William Morris
Justin Nickelson for Utah Valley Review, Oct. 14, 1986
Thrones of Stupor, Zeezrom & the Zeboamites (LP, 1986, River Rose Records)
★★★½
If Rind, the debut EP of Zeezrom & the Zeboamites, suffered from a frantic belatedness—an over-mannered awareness that punk had already broke and then fallen apart, reconstituted as post-punk, and then corrupted into new wave before any of the band’s members had even picked up a guitar—their new release, Thrones of Stupor, sinks into their failures with reckless abandon (and, admittedly, a small dose of depression), but in doing so forges something truly unique and worth seeking out, even if the band still doesn’t quite feel like it’s reached its fully finished state. Aided by new, teenaged bassist Tamara Terklesen (the previous bassist left on an LDS mission, which could be said of almost every band that’s formed in the three years since post-punk finally arrived in Utah) adding a metronomic stoicism for the other members of the group to scrabble nervously around, Thrones of Stupor is both tighter and messier, less self-conscious and more ambitious. The result is a provocative, delightful mess that somehow coheres into an actual album and, just maybe, even a sound.
As lead vocalist, synth player, main song writer, and overall driving force of the project Dennis Cooke (22) puts it, “We got better but also worse.”
Returning for the album are the old men of the group: drummer Wesley Flaubert (24), and their guitarist, who goes by the pseudonym Mobrow but will admit to his “dangerous” age (25).
Tracks range in length, tone, and style from the Ramones-play-the-Primary-picnic “I Want a Gold Star” to the plodding seven-minute elegy for all religious and political martyrs who’ve lost their lives to fire “Flames May Burn the Flesh but Your Spirit Burns Brighter.” If you were looking for a band named Zeezrom & the Zeboamites to shy away from their Mormon roots, your hopes have been in vain and seem likely to remain so for nigh unto eternity. It may be time for you to move on to groups hiding their faith under a bushel like Surging Tide and The Deciduous Men. The rest of us will enjoy the theological and cultural references and the almost refreshingly unabashed approach.
As on their previous release, Cooke’s crooning vocals are a little too reminiscent of Ian Curtis (which is to say: of Jim Morrison), although the harmonies with Terk and Mobrow on about half of the tracks add a nice change of pace as does Flaubert’s arrival at almost competence on the goat skins, which has its own lurching charm, especially now that that the other half of the rhythm section is capable of holding down the beat.
Images recur throughout the album: windswept high-desert plains, distant stars, weathered faces and fences, empty church parking lots, the aforementioned fire, and the titular thrones of stupor.
On “The Work of Death,” Cooke spits out “The jungle at night / burns with an intensity / that sizzles uncontrollably / we’re all hungry / where is our succor,” while Terk sings soothingly, unnervingly, “I sent you a letter” over and over.
Although neither the politics nor the exact nature of the aesthetic project can be clearly pinned down, and all the members were cagey when asked ut right (the most I got was a “The great and spacious building is always with us” from Cooke), Zeezrom & the Zeboamites do not seem to be a fan of the Reagan era. But then again, who is, other than BMW salesmen and hairspray purveyors?
On album ender “I-80 All the Way to the Sea,” Cooke repeats “Enjoy your prosperity” over and over as the track reaches a crescendo, bashing minor chords on his DX7 while Terk plods up and down her P-Bass, and then, as the rest of the band goes quiet and Mobrow jams his Telecaster against the amp to generate waves of feedback, the vocalist wails: “the moths are legion and on their way.”
With this new set of eleven songs added to their arsenal and a brief tour from Boise to Flagstaff on the horizon, Zeezrom & the Zeboamites seem well on their way to, well, not popularity, but a certain regional cult status. That is, if they can stay together for a few more years and eke out enough competent live shows and a couple more releases. Not a given. Indeed, almost an impossibility in today’s scene: if the mission doesn’t get you, marriage and children and the need to make an honest living will.
Still, one suspects that having ingested all of the Brits and a handful of the Americans (Pere Ubu and Sonic Youth, most obviously), Cooke is in this post punk/no wave game for the long haul, and by hook or by crook (and maybe with a little help from prayer), he’s determined to prove that Mormon culture can be poured into even the most unholy of vessels.
William Morris began his career with the Salt Lake Herald, but gained fame as the cartoonist while working for the Spokesman-Review. His work has since appeared in the New York Tribune, the New Nauvoo Mail, Harper’s Weekly, and many other fine periodicals.
PHONY
