THINKING FELLERS UNION LOCAL 282

Lovelyville

In Iowa of all places. In Iowa. I'm not from here so I can't really tell you what Iowa is famous for. Let's just say that they have a great telephone system, many beautiful lakes, the giant moose and the traditional Iowa smorgasbord, with its many delicacies and tasty tidbits made from various kinds of dead fish. Iowa can be proud of the rocking youth-combo Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, too; they started out in Iowa in 1986.

A member heard Frank Sinatra on the radio in 1988 and the band decided that they would move to "San Francisco, San Francisco, that toddeling town." Nobody had the guts to tell the band that Sinatra sang about Chicago and the band found themselves in the hostile East Bay area surrounded by street gangs dressed as Indians, construction workers, police officers, leather bikers, and cowboys.

To gain the necessary "street cred," the Fellers kicked out their old drummer (who promptly moved back to Iowa and opened a White Castle franchise) and replaced him with Jay Paget, a veteran of the SF biker rock circuit, and also a man with connections in the wild and wacky entertainment industry since his days with Ladyslipper recording artists World of Pooh.

The first Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 LP, congenially entitled Tangle (SF slang for when the 49-ers jump on top of each other in one big pile), created quite a stir in the indie-rock pond. John Peel played it quite often and bought himself a new tractor with the bills stuffed in the record jacket.

After a depressing 1990 (the Fellers toured the US and found it to be too big and impersonal and somebody told them about the Frank Sinatra song), the band ran into Gerard and Chris from Matador Records at an Iowa-style smorgasbord joint in the Bronx. After exchanging recipes and handy household hints, the band found that what they had signed was not the dinner check as they thought, but a recording contract with Matador written on the back of a grease-stained recipe for "Meatball Delight." The band decided that, what the heck, at least these guys know how to cook, and the brand spanking new full length LP, cassette, and CD of Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 playing mood music from Lovelyville saw the light of day.

The Mother of All Saints

The third full-length from these Iowa-to-SF transplants is a sprawling, exhaustive collection, clocking in somewhere past 75 minutes. Thinking Fellers continue their indiscriminate flirtations with pop fragility, rhythmic propulsion, metallic glamour and idiosyncratic lyrical insight. Which is exactly what YOU want to say about them, but sometimes it just comes out like "they fucking rule." TFUL 282 have an uncanny sense of what's epic and what isn't; when they fall on the side of the former (most of the time), the results are personal, direct and resonant, like no other group we know.

Admonishing the Bishops 10"/CDEP

Seldom have these eyes seen an audience floored by a track the lionshare of them had never heard before in the way that "Hurricane" from this here new EP pulverized the capacity crowd at SF's American Music Hall a while ago. Gentle, spiritual, harsh, nobody plays like the Fellers, nobody comes close to the Fellers. We think this is a record that will bowl over anybody who has ears, heart and a non-linear mind.

Strangers From the Universe

"You're not one of those groups, are you?"

The lady in London had them pegged the second they invaded her favorite neighborhood eatery. Her proboscis wrinkled with distaste.

"I just hate those groups -- always moanin'!"

During their illustrious career to date, the Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 have been referred to variously as the Thinking Cellars, Thinking Feelers, Talking Followers, Stinking Smellers and Thinking Lame Assholes Union Local Fuck You.

One of those groups.

They make their music collaboratively; playing their instruments and singing together on stage and in the recording studio. As they themselves will admit. Then again, the Thinking Fellers (an abbreviation) is comprised of five distinct individuals:

• Mark Davies
• Jay Paget
• Anne Eickelberg
• Brian Hageman
• Hugh Swarts

Some of whom have lived in Iowa, all of whom now legally reside in California.

Their music is an amalgam; a hybrid, if you will. A pundit once remarked: "It seems to come from everywhere and nowhere."

Either way, he's probably right.

A sheriff in Amarillo, Texas pulled them over in the parking lot of a motel one cold, windy night in November 1989.

"Where ya comin' from?"

"Oklahoma City," the driver (a member of the group) answered.

"Where ya goin'?"

There was a momentary silence as they conferred wordlessly. Then the driver replied: "Albuquerque."