Riddle of Steel

Despite the Internet domain hotdudesrockinout.com and despite having created two full-length albums (Python, Got This Feelin’) that contain a palpable, impenetrable vim and vigor that bridges the white-knuckled rage found in the songs of The Who and Nirvana with the refined intelligence of Shiner, The Police and King Crimson, Riddle Of Steel’s Jimmy Vavak (bass, vocals) and Andrew Elstner (guitar/vocals) come across as two of the most laid back and perhaps even shy guys you’re ever likely to go ear-to-ear with for a telephone interview.

Vavak speaks in a quiet, almost whispery voice. He develops his answers slowly and often says, “Uh, you don’t want me to get into that. That’s something I have very strong opinions about,” or, “That’s something you should really ask Andrew.” Elstner also speaks softly but injects the conversation with humor and surprising recollections - a youthful interest in Eddie Van Halen’s guitar playing; his reluctance to take on vocals in Riddle’s early days.

That said, neither man is naïve and neither is above sounding the bullshit detector when the waft of music industry corruption floats into the room. Vavak spent a number of years booking acts at the Rocket Bar in St. Louis, MO, something that hardened the former skateboard enthusiast’s attitude toward relationships formed in the arena of his present vocation.
“ I made a lot of friends but I think that I also made a lot of enemies,” he says. “Being that position is weird. If everything’s going well, everyone’s taking credit and high-fiveing. But if something goes wrong everybody is pointing fingers. The best part of it is that I made friends with a lot of cool bands. There’s new people doing it all the time and…,” he says, his voice trailing off. “I have some distinctly strong opinions about the music industry and I would rather not publicize them.”

			Pen: Jedd Beaudoin Lens: Lisa Lonning
Despite the Internet domain hotdudesrockinout.com and despite having created two full-length albums (Python, Got This Feelin’) that contain a palpable, impenetrable vim and vigor that bridges the white-knuckled rage found in the songs of The Who and Nirvana with the refined intelligence of Shiner, The Police and King Crimson, Riddle Of Steel’s Jimmy Vavak (bass, vocals) and Andrew Elstner (guitar/vocals) come across as two of the most laid back and perhaps even shy guys you’re ever likely to go ear-to-ear with for a telephone interview. Vavak speaks in a quiet, almost whispery voice. He develops his answers slowly and often says, “Uh, you don’t want me to get into that. That’s something I have very strong opinions about,” or, “That’s something you should really ask Andrew.” Elstner also speaks softly but injects the conversation with humor and surprising recollections - a youthful interest in Eddie Van Halen’s guitar playing; his reluctance to take on vocals in Riddle’s early days. That said, neither man is naïve and neither is above sounding the bullshit detector when the waft of music industry corruption floats into the room. Vavak spent a number of years booking acts at the Rocket Bar in St. Louis, MO, something that hardened the former skateboard enthusiast’s attitude toward relationships formed in the arena of his present vocation. “ I made a lot of friends but I think that I also made a lot of enemies,” he says. “Being that position is weird. If everything’s going well, everyone’s taking credit and high-fiveing. But if something goes wrong everybody is pointing fingers. The best part of it is that I made friends with a lot of cool bands. There’s new people doing it all the time and…,” he says, his voice trailing off. “I have some distinctly strong opinions about the music industry and I would rather not publicize them.”
			Others in the industry seem to have formed fast and strong opinions about Riddle Of Steel. Mainly, that it’s taken up a tradition started by Midwestern acts such as Shiner and run with it, emerging with a fresh and influential sound that’s thus far launched a few bands straight into the rehearsal room and over the moon with superlatives about St. Louis’ new favorite trio. Formed circa 2003, ROS originally featured drummer Ken McCray, who lasted until the unit had recorded a now out-of-print EP. His replacement, Dave Turncrantz, made it through some live gigs and Python, but he was out through the indoor come 2004. Oddly enough, Vavak and Elstner turned to someone at once very close and yet so very far away to fill the drum throne - Rob Smith of Traindodge. Traindodge of Oklahoma City, OK.
Vavak’s old band The Five Deadly Venoms had played a few shows with Traindodge during the dimming days of the ‘90s and a friendship between them and their respective bands developed slowly but surely. “I wouldn’t say that we were super tight with them but I stayed in touch with [Smith’s brother] Jason,” Vavak recalls. When Traindodge encountered financial problems with its then-label, Vavak and Elstner decided to lend a hand, putting the Smith brothers in touch with Hieu Nguyen, who eventually released two of their albums. And when talk of a replacement for Turncrantz started, Rob Smith’s name came up more than once, albeit with some trepidation. After all, he lived, what, eight hours away? And he was already in one band? “ We said, ‘He’s already in the band. We like their band. We don’t want to be part of any weirdness,’” remembers Vavak. But he and Elstner invited the drummer up for a long weekend and jam session which resulted in some impressive playing and camaraderie. “We practiced with him for three or four hours and he knew just about everything. We knew that we had to write songs with the guy.” “ At first, that seemed like a horrible idea,” Elstner says of the decision to bring Smith into the fold, “but it’s actually kept things really focused. Rob’ll come up to St. Louis for an extended weekend and have marathon practice schedule. We get so much more done with a drummer who lives eight hours away than we did with a drummer that lived in town. That’s nothing against Dave. But you can get lazy when everyone’s in one place.” Traindodge and Riddle frequently tour together throughout the Midwest and continue to bond on the personal level. “I feel like we’re secret brothers,” says Elstner. “We all grew up listening to a lot of similar bands, we all have a similar sense of humor. We’re all pretty calm. We were all just such fast friends. They’re incredible genuine guys, they’re really laid back.” “ Those guys are so easy to get along with and so easy to travel with,” says Vavak. “They’re workers; they’re not lazy. They don’t get wasted. They show up early for things. They’ll hit the road at 8:30 or 9 in the morning while we try to see if we can get an extra hour in the motel room. We’re lucky to have made friends with them.” Elstner and Vavak haven’t always been excited about bringing outsiders into the picture. In fact, that reluctance helped them decide that they would be the frontmen for ROS. “We didn’t know anybody who we were excited about having in the band as a singer,” says Elstner. “It was a pretty hilarious scene: Jimmy and I singing into a four-track recorder the first time. It was like, ‘Don’t look at me. I’m going to sing some stuff. Nobody look at me. No laughing.’ I found out really quickly that I liked it.” It only makes sense, he adds. Singing is something of a family business: “My dad sings. My uncles and my grandfather sang barbershop. How’s that for Spinal Tap?” In conversations that are rife with references to long-term relationships and inter-personal stability, the idea of family keeps emerging, in particular when either man speaks about Nguyen. Life at Ascetic, Elstner and Vavak agree, has thus far been idyllic and not something they’re eager to give up easily should someone, say, come waving big dollars in their face. “ We have a great situation right now and it would have to be a pretty amazing step,” Elstner says. “I would not be cool with a situation where it was the name of the label. Hieu is so into what we’re doing. He bends over backwards and is such a nice guy that it’s hard to say that we could get a better deal. I worked in record stores for a while,” he adds, “and I’m pretty cynical of any major label activity. As every minute counts off the clock they’re less and less interested in supporting anything real.” Vavak’s observations echo his band mate’s, almost note for note. “Hieu is a really good friend of ours and he is the most genuine and likeable person and honest guy,” the bassist says. “He busts his butt and if any opportunity was afforded to us he would have to come to along with us. If a label was interested in us they would have to give Hieu a chance to come along. Hieu is an invisible member of this band. He’s been integral to everything that we’ve been able to do. The death of most small, hardworking labels is that their bands get great opportunities and kick them to the curb. That’s not necessary. It’s a simple business. The first label can still be part of it.” While it’s impossible to know the exact specifics of Riddle Of Steel’s future, the pulse of the band seems to be beating as hard and fast and the beats the band plays on the stage and the studio, beating loud throughout the Midwest and spreading toward the coasts, beating, beating, beating. There’s no question.