If you have any memories of modern rock radio in 2000, I’m guessing they aren’t fond recollections. The dominance of rap-metal, as defined by Limp Bizkit and Korn, was starting to wane ever so slightly, and that had to be a good thing, right? But at its best, rap-metal at least offered something new. Soon, playlists would be flooded with the ironically coined nu-metal, which manifested in the likes of Nickelback, Staind, Godsmack, and Puddle of Mudd, old fashioned grunge bands who imported rap-metal's misogyny, regrettable facial hair, and nothing else. When the pendulum has swung so far in one direction, a correction is likely already underway and this can be exciting for people who see the big picture; but we were still about a year away from the Strokes, White Stripes, Bleed American, Songs for the Deaf, I Get Wet, or anything that offered a reprieve. This gap in time proved perfect for At the Drive-In-- if you caught the video for “One Armed Scissor”, the vocals kinda sounded like Rage Against the Machine, the band sliced and diced like Fugazi, and rocked like hell, but seriously, THOSE AFROS…who the fuck are these guys and where did they come from and how many times is he gonna throw that microphone in the air?
In image, sound, and presentation, At the Drive-In were a fully-formed real deal, a Next Big Thing to most, even though their arrival on rock radio was six years in the making; by the release of Relationship of Command, they'd already accumulated an impressive discography and a live reputation. But the typical music consumer was still relying on MTV, Clear Channel, and Sam Goody as prime conveyers, so El Paso might as well have been the actual middle of nowhere. Less than a year after the release of Relationship, they broke up in a way that resembled a broken bone more than a torn ligament-- nasty and fast, but so clean and unmistakable that you could imagine they might patch things up. Who knows what was expected of ATDI as a commercial entity, but they stuck around long enough to have an unequivocal impact, burned out before they could wear out their welcome, and left a whole lot to explore and a whole to the imagination. And so a year removed from their big Coachella reunion and without much fanfare, At the Drive-In are reissuing their 1996 debut Acrobatic Tenement and their swan song Relationship of Command, the two ends of a compelling arc that foretold both their explosive music and implosive interpersonal relationships.
It stands to reason many ATDI fans discovered their discography in reverse order, and if you take the headfirst dive into Acrobatic Tenement, you’re shocked at how the same people responsible for “One Armed Scissor” sound every bit as naïve and scrawny as you’d expect of a band who named themselves after a Poison lyric. It’s not exactly their Pablo Honey: many early adapters still will vouch for it as their best and most honest record and they sound like a younger version of themselves more than a completely different version.
They more or less had an idea of what they wanted to sound like. Whether it’s the murky, almost clean guitar tone, the dual-frontman vocal interaction or just a tendency to get as strident as possible on the chorus, much of Acrobatic Tenement was on loan from Fugazi and their ilk. Bixler-Zavala’s vocals are likewise fully formed and while his lyrics tend to be a lot more grounded in tangible goods than they were later on, there’s still a lot of decoder-ring jabberwocky; “Initiation” is rumored to be about ATDI groupies, “Ebroglio” documents a friend’s suicide, but even the hardworking commenters at songmeanings.net think most of these tracks are about breakups, a sure sign that they’re out of ideas.
But the most startling aspect of Acrobatic Tenement is its anemic sound*,* which allows you to visualize At the Drive-In at the “Bandcamp with local gigs” phase of their career. It’s meant as a souvenir and possible replacement for their “you had to be there” live show; I use that term in the most literal sense, since even if their exhausting touring regimen is still spoken of in hushed tones, it rarely got them out of the Southwest. And Acrobatic Tenement struggles with the same quandary that faces bands whose live performance far outstrips their songwriting and recording skills: considering that the budget was taken from couch cushions (a rumored $600), why not just, you know, record a live show? I couldn’t imagine Acrobatic Tenement sounding any less slick-- even compared to the brickwalled Relationship of Command, the intended dynamics of “Skips On The Record” and “Schaffino” are rendered theoretical at best, the guitars mostly sound like someone forgot to hit a distortion pedal, and there are several times during the otherwise excellent “Ticklish” where it actually sounds like someone forgot to hit their distortion pedal until midway through a riff.
There are still good songs on Acrobatic Tenement-- “Initiation” and “Star Slight” in particular stand out as strong examples of where post-hardcore was at the time and where At the Drive-In could’ve taken it. But really, the reissue of Acrobatic Tenement is better used as a means of scaling At the Drive-In’s subsequent leaps and bounds-- guitarist/vocalist Jim Ward praised it for its “earnest and pure excitement,” relative to Relationship’s “craftsmanship.” In other words, both artist and listener alike can appreciate Acrobatic Tenement as the record At the Drive-In made because they really didn’t know any better.
What’s interesting about Relationship of Command in retrospect is just how much of it remains etched in 2000. For one thing, it was released on Grand Royal, the Beastie Boys’ boutique label which served as a late-90s booster for cosmopolitan, kitschy, and quirky acts like Bis, Atari Teenage Riot, and Luscious Jackson that mostly strayed far away from alt-rock’s mainstream. Relationship, along with the pre-9/11 vinyl pressing of Jimmy Eat World's Bleed American, was one of Grand Royal’s final releases before it shuttered in 2001 and also one of its most successful, selling over 1 million copies. And most crucially, there was the duo responsible for capturing ATDI’s sound. Relationship of Command was produced by Ross Robinson, nu-metal standard bearer, five-star general in the Loudness Wars, and the very person responsible for many of the records that made Relationship of Command sound so bold by comparison. And much to the band’s eventual regret, Andy Wallace mixed the LP, ensuring it was as juiced-up and steroidal as any number of sluggers restoring the nation’s faith in Major League Baseball at the time.
While guitarist and eventual Mars Volta member Omar Rodriguez-Lopez discredited the mixing of Relationship of Command, it’s hard to argue with Wallace’s decisions because it totally fucking worked. That At the Drive-In could go moonshot for moonshot with the heavy hitters without drastically altering the content of Relationship was its biggest success-- here was a band smuggling in post-hardcore, emo-punk, and math-rock in between whatever MACHINA/Machines of God or Californication single was poppin’ at the time. But if you liked omnidirectional anger, big choruses, and loud guitars*, Relationship of Command* was an album that could easily be taken at face value before the subversive aspects came to the fore.
From the very first seconds of “Arcarsenal”-- the kind of hardcore Pornography that even the Cure couldn’t replicate on their Ross Robinson album-- Relationship of Command grabs you by the collar and does not stop. A lot of the advances they'd made on In/Casino/Out and Vaya-- electronics, Latin percussion, more ambitious song structure-- were simply blown up to scale. Meanwhile, Bixler-Zavala’s cloak and dagger lyricism went even deeper into garbled SpyTech communiqué while becoming unintentionally anthemic or resonant-- “have you ever tasted skin?,” “hypodermic people poking fun at the living,” and of course, “this station is non-operational.”
Make no mistake, Relationship of Command is also ATDI’s best album on account of having its sharpest songwriting, most explosive hooks, and catchiest guitars. Sure, there’s a piano somewhere in the mix, but the windup leading to “I must’ve read a thousand faaaaaaaaces!” on “Arcarsenal” is about the only reprieve you get within the first 15 minutes. The chorus riff of “One Armed Scissor” would’ve been a major hit on Beavis & Butthead’s couch years prior. Bixler-Zavala’s eventual shift towards prog-metal operatics aren’t as much of a surprise in retrospect listening to the belted chorus of “Sleepwalk Capsules.”
But while Relationship of Command is a juggernaut, it’s not invincible. For one thing, you can sense the fissures forming in ATDI’s songwriting team-- the undeniable chorus of “Invalid Litter Dept.” (you know, the “dancing on the corpses’ ashes” song) is necessary to make up for its stilted interjections and even if “Enfilade” is about half as long as a standard Mars Volta song, it packs in every bit as many chintzy production tricks. Iggy Pop shows up to whisper a ransom note at the beginning of "Enfilade" and shows up somewhere indeterminate on "Rolodex Propaganda", because he was available and this was a major label rock album in 2000. Meanwhile, Relationship’s second half anticipates the utilitarian modern rock of Ward’s Sparta; Wallace and ATDI are equally complicit in turning “Quarantined” into a leaden slog and “Cosmonaut” into an undifferentiated flurry of pugilistic guitar.
ATDI’s recorded output appears to have been a parallel to their internal dynamic-- Relationship of Command represented the culmination of everything they’ve done to date, their passions and ambitions given a healthy infusion of money. Their implosion appears to have been the result of the same ol’ rock‘n’roll bullshit often abetted by a healthy infusion of money and subsequent hype, i.e., rumored drug abuse, van accidents, cancelled tours at the worst possible times, “creative differences,” and ultimately the sort of long-standing resentments that inevitably fester when you spend nearly every waking moment of an entire decade with the same five people.
At the Drive-In never made a perfect record, though the bigger questions here have more to do with the actual reissuing than the records themselves. Bearing only a single track of bonus material, it’s tough to imagine what the public gets out of increased availability of what are, by far, the weakest and the most popular At the Drive-In releases. Moreover, the timing just feels unnecessarily cruel. ATDI were so frank about their motivations for a reunion tour in 2012 that you had to take them at their word when they said had no plans to make another album. But that was before the dissolution of Mars Volta, a band that allowed Bixler-Zavala and Rodriguez-Lopez to achieve greater commercial success while simultaneously driving up the nostalgia and cred value of At the Drive-In. What’s stopping them now, other than Omar’s 12-dozen side projects?
And if you do feel invested in rock radio, it’s easy to mope about, thinking, “we sure could use another At the Drive-In.” This is a complaint that rings true on multiple levels: while I have plenty of anecdotal evidence of artists claiming to have been blown away by Relationship of Command as a teen, now that Thursday’s called it quits, the only bands that strike me as bearing any ATDI influence are dudes like Biffy Clyro or Alexisonfire, who are probably even further from the “indie” purview than Mars Volta. Or, maybe the cold administration of At the Drive-In’s legacy is its own sort of command, i.e., “this station is non-operational unless we say so.” They may have once been emo, but no ever said they were romantic.
