By M. Stephanie Murray
Arizona Daily Wildcat
September 8, 1997

Punk-band Phonoroyale socially undistorted

Robert Henry Becker Arizona Daily Wildcat Pate doesn't fret over his bass, just plays it with a smile. The band came down from Phoenix.

This was supposed to be a review of the Social Distortion show at the Cage on Friday, Sept. 5. It is not. Instead, it is a short moral fable about the evils of publicity firms and the joys of happy accidents.

As a big, important punk-rock band, Social Distortion uses a publicity firm to convince the listening, buying and concert-attending public that they really are a big, important punk-rock band, (although one wonders how punk-rock a band can be now that they sing "How can you love when you don't love yourself?"). We reporters, kind and giving souls that we are, often acquiesce to the wishes of these firms and agree to cover their bands. The deal is, since we (the reporters) are covering these bands as a public service, we are placed on the guest list and do not have to pay our own hard-earned money to see the show. At the show in question, this did not happen.

Which was how this reporter was freed of the tyranny of the publicity firm and allowed to go to the show she really wanted to go to: Phonoroyale at Club Congress. And that is what this article is really about.

Here's the scoop on Phonoroyale: Based, as singer Mary Katherine put it, in "beautiful midtown Phoenix," Phonoroyale is a hard-working band, bringing a swanky brand of swing to the wilds of Arizona.

This is not your father's swing band, however. Phonoroyale's main distinction is the phonophone, a marvelous contraption which allows guitarist Jake Randall to create the illusion of a horn section without the bother of having those flaky brass types around.

And Phonoroyale is not without their own brand of punk-rock credibility. First, guitarist Ben Edmonds has the smokin' and playin' thing down. And, when solicited for a sound bite, bassist Kevin Pate announced that he was "a bit disgruntled. I blew up an amp. I'm blowing up a lot of fucking amps lately." So there. This blown amp happened in the course of the band's attempt at a more intimate sound in the notoriously loud Club Congress. This reporter was most impressed by the fact that they actually got the Congress kids to turn the damn sound down.

As the old rule goes, a band you can listen to comfortably is a band you can dance to, (well, I may have made that up. It's still true). Apparently, way back in fifth grade, when we girls were dragged off to learn about the natural miracle of menstruation, the boys were being taught how to swing dance. How do boys naturally know how to do this? This reporter, well-lubricated by cool summer drinks, still struggled to not lead, much to the dismay of my boy companion. At any rate, there were a couple of boys, all decked out in their D.A.'s, bowling shirts and big-cuff jeans, rockin' and strollin' and lookin' spiffy, while their equally spiffy girls struggled to follow the spins and dips. (Another note: There is a proper way to dance to this music. Interpretive dance is not it. Save that for your hippie bonfires. Please).

Robert Henry Becker Arizona Daily Wildcat Singer Mary Katherine, guitarist Ben Edmonds and bassist Kevin Pate of Phonoroyale do the swing thing at Club Congress' scene last weekend.

Soon, though, we swing-impaired (but menstruation-knowledgeable) will be able to practice in the privacy of our own homes. Phonoroyale will be releasing a CD sometime in October. Drummer Scott Hay promises that "the sound [will] be the same," mixing "fast and slow and everything."

And that is how a happy accident and an evil publicity firm conspired to create a pleasant ending to our little moral fable. Go see 'em, buy the CD when it comes out and live happily ever after.