Lost but found

Pete DeGraaf takes a hike to Halobox

by John O'Neill

With the release of their well-received third album, Watch It Burn (Chicago's Victory Records), Cast Iron Hike bassist Pete DeGraaf was nothing less than optimistic about his future. Having just completed a successful East Coast tour, a spirited homecoming set on the main stage of the Vans Warped Tour, and a second tour on the horizon, DeGraaf saw four years of non-stop devotion to his band (including designing the cover and graphics of their first release) was finally paying off with national attention. In another year, tops, he'd be able to leave his day job and concentrate on music. The last thing he expected when he showed up for practice was that he'd be fired for "personal differences." After a week of moping around the house, hoping the boys would call him up and say it was all a mistake, DeGraaf picked himself up by his guitar strap and began jamming with anyone he could think of in his now-abundant free time. It was time to start over.

In a classic case of timing is everything, one band's trash was about to become another band's treasure.

Halobox are one of the dozens of Worcester bands who call the shitty confines of Webster Street home for its economic and practical places to practice. In a room that smells like a cross between wet, moldy carpet and a urinal deodorant puck, they smash out the half-dozen originals they've written since forming in May, while pictures of everyone from Charlton Heston and Robert De Niro to two "lesbians" locked in a phony sixty-nine look down on them. Growing increasingly tighter musically with each session, band members knew the only thing they lacked in order to take it out to the clubs was a bass player. Then DeGraaf showed up at their door.

"Pete was a really good find," says vocalist Mark Santoro during a rehearsal break. "We'd heard a lot of bad things from people, but he was highly recommended by the only person who mattered to me, (Cast Iron Hike's) Chris Popecki." Drummer John Ledoux, who played with Santoro in Landslide before hooking up to form Halobox sums it up with, "We knew he would fit based on his love and obsession with Star Wars."

Whatever the explanation, DeGraaf's coming on board acted as a solidifying factor for the young band, who are rounded out by guitarists Jay Carlin and Jay Reslock. Although the group are still in the feeling-each-other-out stage, they obviously enjoy playing together and have a lot of respect for each other. "It was awkward at first with the age and personality difference," says Santoro, "but we're all on the same level now. It's exciting." It appears to be the band consensus; members can't talk about the group or each other without the word "love" eventually slipping into the conversation. "It's the greatest thing," adds Ledoux. "We're all like best friends, and it's fun. And it's the best music any of us has written. I love it."

The group's music will draw comparisons to Sunny Day Real Estate and Quicksand, two of their named influences (along with everything from bands like Miltown, Face to Face, and Chamberlain to cultural touchstones like Planet of the Apes, The Simpsons and Sexy Spice -- the only Spice Girl that really matters). They openly (unknowingly?) sniff around the same tree Superchunk and Pond have peed on, combining old-school '80s punk, lurching guitar pop and distortion, with the ubiquitous melancholy lyrics of pretty much every songwriter born after 1970.

Although everyone pitches in to write the music, Santoro handles most of the lyrics. "I'm pessimistic. I can only write about things that I know about from my heart, and there are a lot of things wrong. I'm more serious, the band bitch." Santoro's somber lyrics range from not believing in true love to coming to grips with the idea of working the old-fashioned, dead-end 9-to-5 job. But if Santoro's lyrics are a poison pill, they are candy coated to go down easy with the guitar work of the two Jays. Ringing guitars segue into heavy riffing and then twist-turn back into subtle nuance just as the songs threaten to break out into full-gallop punk abandon. Ledoux's stellar drumming drives with stop/start rhythms and his cymbals accent the vocal delivery while DeGraaf holds the whole thing together through his bass. Simple to complex and back again, it's a sweet-and-sour mix that is very college-radio friendly. Make no mistake about it, Halobox won't hide their aspirations.

"We're really serious, we want to get signed," explains Santoro. "We'll go the whole nine yards. Before this it was just playing with friends, but now I can't imagine not being in a band. This is the next level. I feel good that all the guys feel the same." A sentiment not lost on Peter DeGraaf. "There's so much I took for granted like writing and playing. To work so long on a single project and to lose that is like losing a piece of yourself. But I dig this. We wanna go forward, but not beyond our means. It's all so new."

You can jump on Wormtown's soon-to-be buzz band's bandwagon (before they get signed) when they play the Space on October 7 with the Promise Ring, Compound Red, and Piebald.