Everthus the Deadbeats

Everthus the Deadbeats

by Josh Flynn

The floor of the Ball State student center cafeteria is cleared of tables and chairs. People congregate in the corners, some talking and laughing, some watching the Indianapolis Colts play the New England Patriots. On the stage in front, Everthus the Deadbeats are setting up their equipment. When the opening notes of “Some Terry’s” bounce across the empty expanse of dance floor, fans mob the stage and their bodies twist and turn, their arms move through the air like so many conductors orchestrating the music. On stage it’s equally chaotic. The Deadbeats pound at their keyboards, thrash their guitars, pummel the drums. In the middle of it all stands John Muylle, singing, “We’d always like to be a bit more than your average, day-to-day, boring personality.”

Everthus the Deadbeats is a glam rock band that began in Muncie, Indiana in 2004. But it was a long process for the five Ball State art students to grow into one of the most talked about bands in the state. “The band was a supplement to our partying,” says drummer Dan Fahrner, one of the three original members still playing, including Benny Sanders on bass and guitarist Allen Banister. “We would fill our basement with two hundred people and everybody would scream and push each other and break bottles over each other’s heads."

The band started by performing grungy instrumental pieces, but after a year together, they weren’t evolving into anything more than background music to get drunk to. Enter John Muylle, and all that would eventually change. But not immediately. It wasn’t a match made in heaven initially. “I went and saw them play and they didn’t have a singer,” he says. “They played this kind of jammy, surfy rock music and I told them they needed a singer. I auditioned and they didn’t like me. Dan was the only one who wanted me in the band.”

“Everybody was like, ‘Forget it. We can do it ourselves.’ Which wasn’t true because we were awful,” Fahrner confesses. “I took it upon myself to bring him in. They were receptive to it because it worked well.”

Muylle added a new dimension to the music, taking previously recorded songs and adding his own lyrics, creating twisted landscapes within a pop song format. He appears a musical mastermind in the vein of Danny Elfman, and possesses a similar dynamic vocal range that can go from singing simple la-la-las one minute, and the next becoming absurd and theatrical. Muylle acts as a pied piper, luring Deadbeat fans with melodies that make them want to dance and sing along, and ensnaring them with a maniacal laugh.

“There has always been a sort of crooner aspect to the music,” Muylle says. “There has always been this loungey, sleazy, kind of circus aspect and I think that’s just our personalities showing through.”

The other personalities compliment Muylle. Fahrner, Sanders and Banister draw from diverse musical tastes, ranging from The Beatles to Bowie, Sonic Youth to Latin music, Tom Waits and dance beats. The band can do separate recordings, bring everything together, and allow each other to fill in the blanks.

Despite the new creative energy Muylle brought with him, he still felt something was missing. He’d find the last ingredient in a shy art student named Lisa Berlin.

Lisa Berlin doesn’t look like a Deadbeat. She’s often found with a smile on her face and seems to be one of those people overflowing with positive energy. Once she is behind her keyboard, though, she undergoes a chilling transformation. She brings a haunting atmosphere to the band. Almost schizophrenic onstage, her singing mutates from a deadly staccato drone to soothing and lovely and back again in a matter of seconds on songs like “Blackout.” On “Some Terry’s” she happily bounces around, and her smile is so infectious you wonder how this sweet girl got mixed up with these guys.

“ We were all in art school together at Ball State,” Berlin explains. “I was in a class with John and I had them play at a student art gallery. Me and John, when we hung out he would play guitar and I would sing harmonies with him. The way he writes music, there is always a lot of backing vocals. When he joined the band he asked if he could bring in a back up singer.”

In January of 2005, the band took its last step to get to where it is now, accepting Berlin into their fold. “I went over to John’s and he said, ‘I have a surprise for you. I talked to the guys and they want you in the band.’ I had no idea he was even going to ask them and I was like, ‘Oh my gosh. Okay.’”

With their lineup now set, the Deadbeats expanded outside of Muncie, playing more shows in Indianapolis and around the state. A mystique developed around them. It became an event when the Deadbeats arrived in town. The demand for them grew so great, they found it more profitable to scale back on local shows and build anticipation for future performances.

“ Muncie bands like Everything, NOW! were huge inspirations to us when it came to performing. They passed out instruments to the audience and had papier-mâché sculptures on stage,” says Berlin. “They’re just an interesting band to watch and to participate with. That was something important to us. Not to just stand up there and look cool or something, but we try to get everyone in on it. We pass out instruments a lot when we remember. We’ve lost quite a few.”

“We play to two different crowds,” Muylle says. “It’s either drunken bar people dancing or college students sitting and thinking really hard at you. Head scratching.”

In the summer of 2006 the Deadbeats released a six-song EP entitled Addicts Stuck in Traffic. They spent hours crafting handmade CD covers, each an original collage made from magazine photos. The number of covers ranged from 400 to 1000, depending which Deadbeat you ask.

After the launch of the self-released CD, contact was made with Standard Recording. Playing shows alongside Everything, NOW! and Arrah and the Ferns, both appearing on Standard, allowed them to become friends with the label. They were eventually signed and Standard officially released the EP.

Relocating from Muncie to Indianapolis was also in store for four of the band members. Farhner, Sanders, Muylle, and Berlin all moved in together while Banister stayed behind to finish school. “Dan said, 'Instead of graduating and deciding right away what we wanted to do with our lives, let's buy some time and keep playing in the band,’” says Berlin. “When we saw the house in Indy and thought of all we could do together, we just decided it was a good career no matter how long it lasts.”

“ We moved to try to get closer and that worked really well,” Fahrner explains. “We became a tight family. It’s a really close knit group and it feels really good.”

It’s time for the student center to close down. The Deadbeats wrap up their set, thanking the fans. “One more,” the audience begs. “A short one.”

“ We don’t know any of those,” Berlin jokes. It appears the night is over. The band looks to start disassembling their equipment. Muylle is defiant though. He rests his hands on the keyboard and begins playing the opening of “Human Paraquat.”

The people trudging toward the doors begin to writhe on the dance floor again. The lights come back on, tables and chairs are moved back into place, but Everthus the Deadbeats play on.