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The Triangle - Drexel University Student Paper
By Stan Hwang

Once you attend a Bob Schneider show you can really tell that he and his band are true musicians. How many artists could play for two hours and 40 minutes with 25 songs? How many bands have a drummer playing lead guitar with his drumsticks? What a sight!

On Oct. 27, opening act Ike Reilly started right on schedule at 7 p.m. followed by Schneider around 8 p.m. Schneider’s band consists of Bill Harvey on electric guitar, Bruce Hughes on bass, and Mike Longoria on drums, with Schneider himself on vocals and lead guitar. By the time Schneider started playing in the music lounge, the Khyber was packed.

Schneider usually draws a crowd of people aged mostly 30 to 50, plus a few people around the Drexel generation. Most of Schneider’s rock/pop songs relate to themes of love and the hardships of being alone. In addition, Schneider manages to add some humor to sex and drinking.

His real personality, though, comes through his past life experiences. For instance, one song dedicated to his cousin and mother addresses the issue of Schneider’s hope to make his family proud by finishing college. Later on, Schneider mentions that he still owes his last college money so he won’t be returning to school for quite awhile. He truly shows that his music has helped him grow independently from some very rough and awkward times, such as a bout with drug abuse.

The only problem with the show was that nine songs the band played sounded too much like what is on the Lonelyland album. There were a few electric and bass riffs in some of the songs, but that was about it. However, the flowing variety of the music, including, jazz, opera, Hawaiian, and banjo styles, more than made up for the "monotony." To be more creative than they already are and then try to make all their songs more original than their latest CD is a difficult task.

Schneider volunteered to sign CDs and speak with people at the end despite his tiring schedule. I stood in line to get three Bob Schneider CDs signed. In front of me, five ladies talked to Schneider about how they heard his song "Metal and Steel" somewhere and how much they loved it. Instead of riding the same train, I just said, "I’m sure you’ve heard it all before. I would just like my three CDs signed." His reply was, "I don’t mind the comments as long as they’re good."

With Bob Schneider, you get more than your money’s worth — without a doubt.


Relix Magazine
FEATURE: BEYOND THE VERGE
Pg. 42

Here are 20 bands we feel have gone beyond the verge of obscurity, newness and inexperience. They are artists we feel you should know about. More importantly, we think they're artists you will enjoy. They might not be the next big thing, but they've all generated a good word-of-mouth buzz and might be the next small or medium "thing," whatever that means. Now that you know the names, we want you to get buzzed on the music too. Take it in--in any way possible. Maybe it's not your first choice when you saddle up to that great bar of music, but we think that after a couple of rounds you'll be calling them old favorites.

BOB SCHNEIDER

"As much as I’d like to say that I’m in it for the art, ultimately, I’m just basically in it for the girls." Bob Schneider isn’t ashamed of his motives or the fact that he cries during movies. When he says girls, it’s not in a bling-bling, I’m a rock star, pass the Courvoisier kind of way. It’s more for the fundamental value and need for companionship. It just happens that Schneider, on a Darwinian level, has found the best way to attract them-performing his own material in front of an audience.

An Austin resident for the last fourteen years, Schneider first tasted success with Joe Rockethead, a rock-rap outfit that was "kind of like the Chili Peppers, but more rock." With the group breaking up in ’93, he helped form a new one-Ugly Americans. Though he feels they were never a jamband, they were jam-friendly enough to find themselves on the H.O.R.D.E. tour alongside Blues Traveler and Warren Haynes. Hanging on to see what panned out after they signed to a major, he simultaneously formed the Scabs with a homeless guy who was crashing on his couch and a couple of his roommates. Now a nine-piece band that plays different genres of dance music, from salsa and rap to r & b and bluegrass, "it’s the best band I’ve ever played in," according to Schneider. The Scabs still play to packed houses in Austin, but another gig has been taking up a lot of his time: Bob Schneider.

After first releasing it himself, Lonelyland was picked up last year by Universal. The aptly titled solo album showcases Schneider’s diversity and talent. From the softer-spoken "Metal & Steel" and "2002" to the gruffy Waits-cabaret feel of "Blue Skies for Everyone" to the headbob funk of "Bullets" or even the light Weezer-tinged "Big Blue Sea," Schneider nails it. He also re-recorded his track, "The World Exploded Into Love," for T-Bone Burnett’s new soundtrack Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood.

"I’ve never been comfortable in my own skin, around people or groups. I’ve always felt disconnected." His lyrics certainly convey a sense of this, though he’s not one to hang his head (except if it gets him girls). How much of what he writes is autobiographical? "None of it is true, but there is some truth in there." Typical Schneider. "Here’s the deal: You say it in a song, people will believe the fuck out of it. You say it on stage in a song, it’s the bible. Get on TV and say it, it’s written in stone." Schneider likes being able to reinvent himself since he’s not always happy with his own personal reality.

He also reinvents - nix that - creates new music each night he plays, whether it be his solo act band or the Scabs. "I can take a song that I’ve done fifty times live, but play it in a different way and it becomes something new. You are the conduit of something new coming into the world. Of course you can also be the conduit for some crap, which is not so exciting, but that’s the chance you have to take." My advice: take your chances on Bob Schneider.

THE FACTS
Current Base of Operation: Austin, TX
Formed: Debatable; 1993-‘99
Essential Listening: Lonelyland
Band members: Bob Schneider (guitar, vocals), Bruce Hughes (bass, vocals), Mike Longoria (drums), David Boyle (keys), Stephen Bruton (guitars)
Website: www.bobschneidermusic.com

Chosen by Josh Baron
(Notes: Bob is the first artist featured and the article is accompanied by the photo of Bob on the leather chair with the dark-shaded clear rimmed glasses on...a common photo...The above has been condensed for space. Other artists included: Railroad Earth, Voices On The Verge, Reid Genauer, Lettuce, and honorable mentions Addison Groove Project, Aesop Rock, Freeloader, Josh Rouse, Living Daylights, Longwave, Lotus, Mamasutra, Mofro, The Motet, Mountain of Venus, Peach Truck Republic, Psychedelic Breakfast, Starling TN, and Who's The Fat Guy.) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Troubled Orbit
The Satellite’s booster rockets kick in just in time
By John Nova Lomax

When the Fabulous Satellite Lounge hosts Aztex in a no-over June 15 bash to celebrate a decade on Washington Avenue, they're going to mean it. The last 12 months have been some of the toughest in the club's history.

Satellite founder Dickie Malone says the club's troubles are external. It all started with the Great Flood of '01, he says. "Now people stay home if it rains," Malone says. "They're scared, and the TV weathermen make every little shower seem like the Apocalypse."

Add to that the downturn in the economy, a post-September 11 malaise, and the Continental Club's nibbling at the fringes of the Satellite's audience, and Malone's external theory seems pretty solid.

But former Satellite manager David Beebe, who now holds a similar position at the Continental, has another theory. Beebe believes that Malone has brought many of the club's troubles on himself. First off, the Satellite's monthly schedules have grown too conservative, he says.

"They made the decision that they wouldn't lose money on any show ever," Beebe says. "That makes sense in the short run, but not in the long run."

Beebe also believes that Malone erred in ending the club's unofficial midweek band-development night. Beebe concedes that these rep- building gigs don't make much, if any, immediate money. The payoff comes months later. "That's where you pick up the word of mouth," he says. "You get a good cross-section of people who go out a lot. Bartenders at other bars, they come to nights like this and then people ask them what to do or where to go, and they tell 'em. It worked for Jug O' Lightnin's Sunday nights at Rudz, or our El Orbits bingo night or whatever. You lose a little money, but those nights do a lot for you."

Neither, says Beebe, is the Satellite attentive to the cash-strapped among us. "They did away with all the drink specials the minute I left," Beebe says. "You've gotta have something for the people who have no money to get them in and spend what they got."

"I don't do drink specials," Malone admits. "But I don't have high drink prices. Anyway, people don't come here to get 50 cents off a beer. They come to hear the band. I live and die by the bands that I book, and they are bands that have been popular here for a long time. Bob Schneider has been playing here for eight years. He used to play here to 20 people with the Ugly Americans."

Ah, yes, Mr. Schneider. Lately, clubbers might be forgiven for tripping on the bar's bulky name -- it's seemed less like the Fabulous Satellite Lounge than the Continuous Schneiderite Lounge. The multifaceted Austinite has played the Satellite six times in the last two months. (Perhaps the recent split between Schneider and Sandra Bullock was brought about by the singer's too-frequent trips to Houston.)

"That's bad for the Satellite's reputation," claims Beebe. "The big joke around town is 'Oh, Bob Schneider's playing tonight -- and every other night they're open.' That's one of those things where it's just being played out until it won't play anymore."

"There's no Schneider shows the rest of June, and there's none in July," counters Malone. "I'll go head-to-head with Schneider against anything he has over there at the Continental. Maybe he's just jealous because he doesn't have Schneider."

Maybe Malone would be interested in another piece of unsolicited advice: Beebe believes his decision to scrap the Satellite's mailing list was also a mistake. Malone says that mailing lists are too expensive and have been made obsolete by e-mail. Beebe disagrees. "Direct marketing is your most effective way to market yourself in this business," he says. "You gotta send out the calendar."

Malone is puzzled and a little amused by the fact that Beebe seems so engrossed in what goes on at his club. Indeed, Beebe first shared his Satellite theories with Racket largely unbidden during an interview that was supposed to focus on his recent brush with death. Beebe reiterated his opinions a couple of weeks ago in another chat.

Is this just a case of a competitor spitting flak? Beebe denies any financial interest in seeing the Satellite drop out of orbit. In fact, he denies that the Continental and the Satellite are even direct competitors, which Racket thinks is a somewhat dubious claim. "I love the club," he says, more believably. "For everybody's betterment, they need to stay open. It's really important that they don't close."

In Malone's defense, the bookings are getting more intriguing. Yes, staples like Soulhat and Patrice Pike will pop up a few more times over the summer, but Martin Sexton and Nashville legends Jason and the Scorchers will also appear. Later this month, New Orleans funksters Papa Grows Funk and L.A. raunch rockers Nashville Pussy are on the slate. The worst appears to be over.

And maybe if we can get Ed Brandon and Dr. Neil Frank to stop telling us the sky is falling, the Satellite can fly for another ten years

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A+ - Bob Schneider, Lonelyland (Universal, 2000)
Wolfpack Productions
[Album Review]


Hype is a hydra-a gigantic nine-headed monster with an immortal center head. Cut off one of the heads and two more grow in its place. One guy in an Austin club talks about Bob Schneider. His friends don't believe him. They cut his head off and then go see Schneider... and they're converted. Two new heads where there once was one.

Stories make their way east from Texas about this singer-songwriter who sounds like Pete Droge and sells out shows twice a week in Austin, where he is a local superstar. Those of us far away on the coast wonder how much of what filters back is hype and how much is truth because, as those of us back east are wont to be, we are cynical. We don't believe the hype.

So when we hear that this legend has an album coming out, we're prepared. Heracles discovered that the only way to kill the hydra was to burn its roots with firebrands and then cut off the immortal head. I cracked my knuckles and prepared to type, prepared to kill this vicious hype beast.

But a funny thing happened on the way to the chopping block. I listened to Lonelyland, Schneider's major label debut and suddenly, not only did I believe the hype, but I also got knocked flat on my ass by this amazing record.

From the languidly powerful "Metal and Steel" to the groove-alicious "Round and Round" (a song that might become the sleeper hit of the summer), this immensely talented singer-songwriter alternates alt-country with brooding rock and roll, while mixing in everything from reggae to Tejano influences along the way.

Schneider grooves, twangs, kicks out the honky-tonk jams, and then--just when you think you have him pegged--throws in a tune like "Moon Song" that could be as much at home in a ballroom as it could in a grungy rock club. Every track on this disc is a killer--each distinct enough that you never feel like you're listening to the same song twice. Yet, this album has a flow for which many musicians have searched for years.

This disc makes it abundantly clear that Schneider's live performances must truly be as legendary as they are rumored to be. Masterfully produced, this album perfectly balances raw energy with a heart-wrenching mix of confidence and longing that begs for repeated spins. In the haunting seven minute, 34 second "Madeline," Schneider begs the title character to "save me from myself." This plaintive request from a tortured soul solidifies this albums greatness.

Someday, around the same time that Schneider's girlfriend Sandra Bullock is nothing more than an answer to countless bad movie trivia questions, people will put this album in their CD players and think about the first time they heard the first great album of the new century and one of the best discs of 2001.

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Bob Schneider, Lonelyland (Universal, 2000)
by Andrew Arora
Hybrid Magazine
[Album Review]


He's someone whose stage presence and music can make girls swoon hysterically, a sight which can be better described as a courtship than a moshpit. These twenty-somethings who found their grunge-filled adolescence lacking a real heartthrob have now found bliss with Bob Schneider. Schneider really started turning heads about nine years ago when he formed the memorable Ugly Americans. In 1996, convinced his heart wasn’t in the Americans anymore, he created the boundary-less band The Scabs that was able to share equal success from both critics and an avid college party scene. An eventual transition to a more experimental band called LonelyLand led to a solo effort that included songs on a major motion picture starring ex-girlfriend Sandra Bullock and an eventual deal with Universal Records.

Schneider’s debut release on Universal, appropriately entitled LonelyLand, blends a few music styles. It creates more of a funk rock that mixes some jazz and blues – music you can jam and chill to. He finds a way to throw in some bongo drums too, finding this eerie yet? It undeniably is a unique sound, and it would be unjust to categorize it into any culturally accepted variety.

The first song on this 14-track album is “Metal and Steel.” This acoustic soft tune draws you in from the start with its catchy chorus. The metaphorical lyrics and murky undertone radiate throughout the rest of the album. “Big Blue Sea”, reminds us of the roller coaster ride life can be, adequately summed up in the first few lines: woke up in a stupor/guess its time to face the pooper/sometimes I feel like superman/sometimes I’m just recooperating. It is wonderful lyrically, and Schneider succeeds in the song’s requirement of strong vocals to uphold the harmony.

The album does have some hiccups. “Jingy” goes a little overboard with funk to fit in with the rest of the record. Although this maybe a song that Schneider’s is letting loose and having some fun with, it doesn’t help the flow of the album, and just unpleasant to listen too. The opening lyrics: I have a monkey and his name is Jingy, gives you just this disgusting feeling of cycling through mellow James Brown tunes. The pseudo-ska “Bullets” is another song worth skipping, and should just be saved for filler on a live album. At best it could entertain a sit-down bar crowd finding the time during this song to break the seal. These sound more like songs put on the album to boast the musical range of Schneider rather than add any value.

Schneider quickly recovers with “The World Exploded into Love,” and “Moon Song.” These tracks lets you know there is still some happiness in his sometimes-gloomy beats and narratives. “The World” is a gentle ballad that helps Schneider describe love in the simplest way - The world exploded into love around me and every time I take a look around me I have to smile. While “Moon” makes you feel like you are sippin' mai tai’s with Gypsy Kings on a remote beach, somewhere in the South Pacific.

If you want to impress your friends, play “Tokyo” for everyone you know. This is the middle ground that showcases Schneider’s musical intellect with his knack for writing great melodies. This track is adequately placed to serve as the climatic point of the album. The track’s surprising jazzy edge really showcases Schneider’s musical range. The album ends with a couple of strong songs “2002” and “Oklahoma.”

LonelyLand is an album that might not sprint, but will eventually walk, sit, have some pie and may never leave your CD changer.

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Bob Schneider, Lonelyland (Universal, 2000)
by Wil Owen
Rambles Cultural Art Magazine: 15 September 2001
[Album Review]


Usually when I write a review, I have no trouble pigeon-holing the band or artist. Celtic is Celtic, country is pretty distinctive, etc. But now I am sitting here reviewing Bob Schneider and his album Lonelyland and I am having a hard time categorizing this guy. His music is quite diverse. When all is said and done, he is rather talented. But Rambles doesn't have a section marked "talented."

Here is a man who was born in Ypsilanti, MI, but grew up in Germany with his father, who also happens to be a lifelong musician. Bob says that his biggest musical influence was when he was a 10-year-old fledgling drummer. The senior Schneider "would dress him in a leisure suit and take him along to moonlight jobs where they would perform hits from the '40s through the '70s."

Bob now resides in Austin, Texas. As most people in Texas know, Austin is quite the happening place for music. Those familiar with the Austin scene might recognize some of the local acts that Bob fronted for over the years -- Joe Rockhead (a funk band), Ugly Americans (who toured with Dave Matthews at one point) and The Scabs (a "full-throttle" party band). Bob swept the 2000 Austin Music Awards, winning nine awards due to his talents as a singer/songwriter.

Lonelyland starts out with the catchy radio tune "Metal and Steel." This song is mellow "alternative" college-type music with guitars and light keyboards. I really like it and can hear the mass appeal of the tune. "Big Blue Sea" is of similar ilk and might lead one to think that they have the timbre of this album down. That is when Bob throws you with the bizarre song "Jingy," a kind of a funk-based tune that took a while to grow on me, but now I like it more than most of the other works on the CD. Oh! Jingy is the monkey on Bob's back. Need I say more?

"Bullets" wins the quirky lyrics award for this CD. As best as I can make out, the chorus of this funk-based, horn-filled tune goes something like, "You got bullets, I got time. You bring the bullets. I'll bring the wine. You bring the bullets, I'll bring my bat 'cause I can tell you where it is, but I can't tell you where it's at." And strange as that sounds, I have so far been unsuccessful trying not to bounce to the beat and singing along every time I hear "Bullets" played.

"Round and Round" is another radio tune. If I heard this on the radio, I would have thought it was a new Paul Simon song. One of the better tunes on the CD, with cool guitar playing, it evokes feelings of being near the ocean because of the Calypso beat combined with some African (I am guessing here) backing vocals towards the end. "Moon Song" is another tropical beach song but now I think of Jimmy Buffet. (Maybe I just need a vacation.)

While Bob sounds nothing like Sting, "Madeline" sounds like it could be on one of Sting's recent CDs. It has a little bit of a jazzy flavor. "Blue Skies For Everyone" is dominated by what sounds like a banjo. This is a fun tune that is very reminiscent of Tom Waits (if you use your imagination a little). "Oklahoma" is the only song I am not too thrilled with on Lonelyland. At more than seven minutes, it is little too long. (Just because I live in Texas, I am not biased againsts Oklahoma. Honest!)

As you can tell, this CD does not have one distinctive style, although it leans more towards alternative rock than folk. Bob explores many different genres as he showcases his talents as a musician and songwriter. I get the impression from the CD that Bob is more of a live act. As good as the CD is, I bet that he is even better when performing in public. As good as this CD is, I am going to recommend you put it on your list of CDs to acquire in the near future.

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Never mind the Bullock, here's Bob Schneider
Source: Boulder Weekly, 8/2/01
by Alan Scully
Since Bob Schneider's first nationally released CD, Lonelyland, was released earlier this year, few articles have appeared that haven't prominently mentioned that he is dating actress Sandra Bullock. Certainly Schneider, a veteran of the vibrant Austin, Texas music scene, knew that dating such a high-profile actress would become a point of interest. But he's concerned about the impression it might be creating.

"The concern that I have with that whole thing is if I was reading an article about somebody and I had never heard any of their music-if I just saw an article about Bob Schneider and I had never heard a song of his-and during the article I read he's dating Sandra Bullock, I might immediately discount that person," Schneider said. "Well the only reason that I'm hearing about him is because of who he's dating. So that's my only concern. But in Austin, where people know me and they've heard my music and they see me perform, it doesn't matter to me at all. I'm very proud and, you know, I love who I'm dating. So my concern is that people are going to discount me because of that." But those who doubt Schneider or overlook his music will miss out on a singer-songwriter who has delivered a compelling set of songs on Lonelyland. Displaying an uncommonly broad stylistic reach, the CD has easy-going folk-pop on "Metal & Steel," potent funk-rock on "Bullets" and "Jingy," winsome yet sturdy pop on "The World Exploded Into Love" and "Big Blue Sea," and even some island rhythm injected into the acoustic sound of "Moon Song." Still, Lonelyland sounds cohesive-virtually every song is well crafted, with strong melodies and clever lyrics that display plenty of edgy emotion.

Schneider fronted the three popular Austin-based bands Joe Rockhead, the Ugly Americans, and the Scabs before going solo, and sold 15,000 copies of Lonelyland locally before signing with Universal Records. He is aware that the diversity of his music may not be doing Lonelyland any favors. But he credits Universal for continuing to push his CD, despite the fact that it has failed to make a major commercial impact in the five months since its release.

"Normally if it hasn't sold a half million or a million copies (in the first several months), they (typical record companies) would have lost interest in it," Schneider said. "They (Universal) are still totally behind it and they say they're in it for the long haul, which is really impressive. Especially in today's climate, where it's not about vision, for the most part, it's about dollars and cents. Most of the record companies now, including Universal, are owned by these huge conglomerates. At the end of the day it's like how many records have you sold? And we don't care how good an artist is, if you haven't sold the records, you're out. It's a weird situation." Schneider is aware that his eclectic approach to music means he faces an uphill battle in order to have his music heard by mainstream audiences in today's tightly formatted music scene. But Schneider said he tries to ignore those concerns when it comes to creating music. "The thing that would kill you as a writer would be to try and second guess what people might like," Schneider said. "For me, what I've done over the past two or three years since I started pursuing a solo career is to think as small as I possibly can. I try to think of an audience of one, with myself being the audience. Instead of trying to go 'What are the record people going to like, what is the audience going to like,' I try to ignore all of that and I just listen to the voice in my head and go 'What do I want to hear?' And then you just write down whatever comes. "I like being eclectic. You have the entire emotional palette that you can play with. You can be angry or as sweet or joyful or bitter or anywhere in between that you want to go. You can be satirical and just goofy, or you can take yourself really seriously. I love doing all those things. Then you have all these styles of music from all over the world that you can choose from, to play out those little emotional art pieces that you write. I don't know why people don't take advantage of it, all of this stuff that you can do. And my favorite thing to do is use all that stuff. Lonelyland, as eclectic as that album is, is nowhere near as eclectic as we are when we play live. We're way more rocking and we're way more mellow. We're also way more raunchy and way more silly than that record. That record is just one slice of the pie, really."

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Austin's Ugly Americans are funky, bluesy standouts
By Heather Smith

Austin music connoisseurs may remember a quirky funk band called Joerockhead that got its start in the late 1980s. They started rather unpretentiouly, opening for Soul Hat at the Black Cat Lounge on Sixth Street in Austin.

I first saw Joerockhead in 1991 and was amazed by the size of their following, whose ranks I joined. Soon after they put out a CD, the band split up.

While Austin mourned the loss of a great funk band, Joerockhead's lead vocalist Bob Schneider began searching for another outlet for his creativity. So the Ugly Americans were born in 1993 when he joined forces with musicians Bruce Hughes, Max Evens, Dave Robinson, Sean McCarthy and Corey Mauser. The band started off much like Joerockhead, performing at the Black Cat and gathering a large group of fans. Like many successful Austin bands, their following soon became so large that they moved to larger clubs. In 1994 they produced a CD on an independent label out of Colorado, What Are Records? Their debut album, Ugly Americans , has a sound similar to that of Joerockhead except their version of funk is more bluesy and less influenced by rap. The band creates some interesting sounds with a C3 organ in addition to the usual rhythm, lead and bass guitars and drums.

The Ugly Americans' songs have a lot in common with many Austin funk bands since they are concerned with many of the same issues. "Love in the House" discusses the need for love, peace and harmony while "Don't Gimme no Lip" talks about drinking and smoking reefer. These sentiments are found in the songs of other funk bands like Little Sister, Soul Hat and Rhythm Child.

The Ugly Americans differ from other bands, though. They stand out in the crowd of Austin funk bands. Ugly Americans is lots of fun to listen to because of its upbeat tempo. It's the danceable type of stuff that goes over well at parties. I highly recommend their live performances as well. If you ever want to see a fun, crazy band that will keep you in the mood to dance all night long, the Ugly Americans are the band to see. But if you can't make the trip to see them, buy the Ugly Americans CD.

This item appeared in the Arts & Entertainment section of the April 21, 1995 issue.

Copyright © 1996 The Rice Thresher. All Rights Reserved.

This document may be distributed electronically, provided that it is distributed in its entirety and includes this notice. However, it cannot be reprinted without the express written permission of:
The Rice Thresher, Rice University, 6100 Main, Houston, TX 77005-1892, USA.

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LonelyLand CD Review - 12/28/01
By Steven Wine / Associated Press

Austin's Bob Schneider doesn't fit the stereotype of Texas singer-songwriters: There's no twang in his vocals, no trucks in his lyrics. Schneider has more in common with Elliott Smith or Freedy Johnston than with Lyle Lovett or Townes Van Zandt, and his music falls into the nebulous zone of rock-slash-pop, a fringe niche these days. That may be why this marvelous debut album was overlooked this year. Lonelyland is distinctive because of Schneider's wry sensibility, his marvelous gift for melody and the album's thick bass, which enriches the texture, rather than merely serving the groove. Not that Schneider can't swing -- he combines an African beat and operatic descant on "Round & Round," then finds a bouncy Latin pulse on "Moon Song." There are hooks galore throughout the album, making even a pair of 7 minute tunes seem short. Nearly an hour into the record, Schneider serves up "2002," a musical missive from a slacker to his ex-girlfriend that's funny and sad. In another era or a better world, it would be a strong contender for song of the year. ***Worthwhile
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Swizzle-Stick.com Review of Lonelyland
Bob Schneider: Lonleyland (Universal)
If you have loved and lost, wanted for love, sought a return to simpler days, hoped for a simpler life, longed for an end to the grind of an emotional life - all the while feeling uncertain, if not outright hostile towards yourself - then spending a few hours in Bob Schneider's Lonleyland would be well-spent.

Lonleyland, the much-ballyhooed debut CD of the Austin artist, is not itself a state of mind, nor a physical place; it strikes the listener as the meeting point where a series of Schneider's very good songs become tied together to create a cohesive whole that is infinitely stronger than the sum of its parts.

Schneider's songs seem to achieve an optimal balance of power and grace; he is not one to go overboard to make a point, nor is he one bludgeon the listener. This keeps him honest to the content of his songs, which tends to remain simple and almost pastoral elegies to sadness, pain and the lifting off the soul thereof. "The World Exploded into Love" is one such example. It achieves its pleasant meaning by keeping its composition simple. The song allows the voice of its narrator to shine through, and thus is successful with its intent rather than trite, banal or mundane.

While Schneider can carry off the simple ditty, he also succeeds with more aggressive endeavors that communicate periods of psychological dissonance. "Jingy" is one such example - wherein Schneider makes use of askew, jumpy music, echo and background effects to augment his voice as he sings of mythical monkey Paolo Joe Jingy, buried in the backyard, laughing at our narrator. Again, we have balance here, the intent of the song communicated without being overwrought. To put it simply, Schneider hits the right note, on this and almost every track on the album.

Schneider rarely comes up short, and when he does, we are willing to forgive him. In "Bullets," the refrain tends distracts us for its contrast to the music: "You've got the bullets / I've got the time / you bring your bullets / I'll bring the wine," but we're still willing to ride out the song with him. So too "Madeline" allows us, over the course of seven-plus minutes, to sink from active listening to passive disengagement - lulled, perhaps, by its wooden repetitiveness. "Tokyo" which comes on its heels, also fails to draw us in.

These songs, however, are not poor songs in and of themselves. The truth is not every song can be a home run, and Schneider's album is littered with a few bloop singles and sacrifice flies: "Moon Song" can't be called more than a ditty (nor does it want to be); "Better" seems emotionally washed of the longing sentiment is purports - why not ship that one off to Flock of Seagulls and be done with it.

The album is carried by a few triples and home runs. "Metal and Steel," "Big Blue Sea" and "Blue Skies for Everyone" draw us in with their energy, keep us fascinated with their ability to communicate intimate, personal issues without striking us as callow acts of self-expiation; This, in a nutshell, is Schneider's talent. We needn't identify with the pain of his narrators; rather we can recognize and appreciate their honesty.

While many of these songs put ducks on the pond, it is the simplistic story-song "2002" that clears the bases with a towering shot over the fence in right-center. Ostensibly, the song begins with the narrator writing a former love interest about the turns his life had taken since their breakup:

"Had to get out of town/
So I headed out west/
Ended up in Seattle/
Thought I'd start a brand new band/
Thought I'd call it Lonleyland/
Things got a little out of hand/
Ended up hooked on heroin"

For its simplistic rhyme scheme, Schneider is able - with an honest, likable voice and music that starts simply and builds progressively - to string together a powerful tale in which we recognize the narrator's inability to be honest with himself: though he tells his lost love that he hardly thinks of her, he is compelled to update her on every stage of his life since their break up; though he claims he is "doing exactly what I wanted to" he later confesses:

"Moved back tot Austin 'bout a year ago/
Drive a school bus. I don't drink no more/
Go out every once in a while and see a show/
But mostly I just watch TV/

"So I don't know where I'm gonna send this letter/ Doubt things are ever gonna get much better/ Seems like life's one big whatever/ Anyway"

Because we can see him struggling with this fundamental dichotomy - his public persona versus his private assessment, we like him. He is both intimately and classically human at once; he is in pain and does not want to admit it, and we genuinely feel for him. The unformed-band Lonleyland represents this state, something longed for but for whatever reasons not achieved - the theme runs consistently through the album.

In the end, Lonleyland is much more than the band our narrator intended to start in Seattle. Lonleyland is where the sentiments expressed in Schneider's song come to meet: while they can articulate simple pleasure and simple sadness, disconnection and fascination, desire and contention. They are all parts of a greater whole. Song-by-song, the tracks are if not good, then honest. As a whole, the album is complete and satisfying. (Peter W. Brown)
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Short Article about Austin posters with a very small mention of Bob
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Phoenix New Times - October 4, 2001
Tall Poppy Bob Schneider goes nationwide without the -- gasp! -- approval of Austin's hipsters
BY ROB PATTERSON

Schneider's relationship with Sandra Bullock has only fueled a backlash from Austin's hipster elite.

It's Saturday afternoon during this year's South by Southwest, and the collection of independent parties known as South by South Congress is in full swing along the main thoroughfare of South Austin, Texas. Musical acts perform at a variety of establishments along the avenue and in the alley behind it.

The Yard Dog folk art gallery helped originate this tradition with an annual multi-day bash that features the cream, as well as the crumbs, of alternative country. The joint's proprietor, a sometime musician with roots in Austin's New Sincerity days, is doing bang-up business in the front of his store. But at the party out back, an unscheduled performer has sneaked on stage, and the owner is irked. With a hammy expression and sardonic edge, he announces to a crony, "Gee, who's playing now?" The response comes back slathered with sarcasm: "I don't know who that is."

What's got them bothered is that Bob Schneider has dared to mount the Yard Dog hustings for a few songs with his acoustic guitar. As he plays, a local music scene follower makes a "puke me" hand gesture. "Bob Schneider! Ick!" she chirps with a nasty edge.

A few months later, during an idyllic spring afternoon, the incident is related to Schneider over brisket at a local restaurant. Asked how he feels about it, Schneider replies: "Man, I want to be loved by everybody. I want every single person in the world to agree that I'm the greatest musician ever," he says calmly. "[When] I get a negative review or someone says that I'm pretty good or compares me to artists that I don't like -- anything that doesn't fit that level of perfection I'm looking for -- I get annoyed. So you tell me that story, and I go, 'Can't that woman see how great I am?'"

Such braggadocio usually elicits a gag reflex from journalists. But Schneider's comments were preceded by modesty, a humility matched, to be sure, by a calm confidence. The "every person should agree I'm the greatest" attitude seems more apropos of the onstage Schneider that fronted Joe Rockhead, the Ugly Americans and the Scabs, the club-packing party bands that successively ruled the Austin scene for the better part of the last decade. And, as if to prove the point, the boastful talk is quickly followed by words of reason.

"Unfortunately, not everybody is going to dig what I do, not matter how well I want to do it. The more successful I get, the more suspicious people are going to be, especially people who are too cool for school."

Yes, there are a few of those people in the environs of Town Lake. Austin is a hotbed for the hipper-than-thou squad. The local scene purports to be supportive but is marked by vicious backbiting. And Schneider has committed some cardinal sins against the Capital City cool canon. First, he's dared to make a good living, and he doesn't subsist on the meager fare of critical acclaim and tiny select audiences of the hipster elite. Also, instead of displaying the de rigueur postmodern detachment, Schneider is a fervent entertainer who draws -- gasp! -- hordes of hormonal college kids to his gigs. And last, he's won the heart of Sandra Bullock, America's sweetheart and Austin's biggest resident celebrity.

Worst of all, he's done it all without being anointed by the local hip crowd.

One might easily surmise some poorly concealed envy from those who dismiss Schneider with such cavalier nastiness -- tall poppies like Schneider are no match for the razor tongues of Austin's would-be wags -- not to mention plain old ignorance. "They've never seen me play, and they've never listened to my music," says Schneider. "But I do the same thing. There's huge groups like 'N Sync and Backstreet Boys, who I immediately discount, without hearing, as talentless."

But unlike his detractors, Schneider has an open mind. "I just saw part of a show that 'N Sync did at Madison Square Garden, and it was pretty amazing. They were rocking the shit out of that place, way harder than I probably could do. But I've always blown those guys off. Do they suck? I have no fucking idea. And having a little bit of success has made me realize that I'm just as close-minded as anybody. So when I hear that kind of stuff, it sounds like something I would [say]. Who knows? Maybe that girl who turned up her nose might hear a record of mine one day, and go, 'Oh, that guy's pretty good.' Or she may hear it and still hate it. I don't give a fuck, y'know?"

Of course, Schneider probably does give a fuck, although his accomplishments no doubt salve any wounds from such sniping. His Lonelyland album, first released by Schneider on his own label, was the best-selling disc ever, local or national, at Austin's Waterloo Records, selling some 7,500 copies on first release and doubling those numbers since its major-label rerelease. Now Universal, which has signed Schneider to a deal that allows him to continue putting out records on his own, hopes to expand those numbers beyond the Lone Star State's Latte City on the Lake.

The reason that Schneider sells so well in Austin isn't just his party band popularity. The people pooh-poohing him at the Yard Dog party probably weren't disposed to hearing how Schneider's songs, stripped nearly bare, are as well-crafted and imaginative as any heard all week at the mega-event, maybe more so. National critics are dropping names like Prince, Paul Simon, Tom Waits, Randy Newman, Van Morrison, Beck, Sting and David Byrne in reviews of Lonelyland, and not without due cause. Rich in musicality and sincere in intent, the album is a sophisticated pop-rock collection beyond anything else the oft-overrated Austin scene has produced in recent years.

For Schneider, the secret to his long-running success has always been simple. "The one thing that I've consistently tried to do is have something new every time I play," he explains. "I don't think you can play two songs in a row and not have anything new.

"Every time somebody comes to a show, I want them to see something that they're never going to see again, and also hear something they've never heard before."

Now he's hoping to export that philosophy beyond Texas. As his circle of influence widens, however, Schneider has to deal with more than the usual Austin bullshit; there's the inevitable jealousy and conspiracy theories that go with dating a famous actress.

"When you start dating a celebrity, it turns the whole world into high school again," he notes. What irks him is how "people are going to draw the conclusion that I suck, and the only reason they are hearing about me is because of who I'm dating," he says. "I work really hard at what I do. To have it possibly negated because of who I'm dating annoys me."

But having put his party days behind him, Schneider is finding satisfaction in being Austin's hardest-working musician (not to damn the man with faint praise). "I don't know what I'm going to do after I get bored with this," he surmises. "Maybe I'll have to change my name.

"Cleaning up my act has given me a chance to figure out what's going to make me happy, and come closer to discarding the idea that fame and fortune is going to do it," he concludes. "I think what's going to make me happy is being okay with the world and coming to peace with myself and the world."

And, maybe, to one day have that faux hipsterette brag to all and sundry about how she once saw the great Bob Schneider perform solo behind a folk art gallery on South Congress in Austin.

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Redneck Underground.com Lonelyland Review

Album Name Lonelyland
Review Title: Lonelyland
Author: Logan Henderson
Band Name: Bob Schneider
Label Name: Universal Records
Released on 2001

When I first got a preview CD of Bob Schneider's new CD, Lonelyland, I (and by extension RedneckUnderground.com) was quite flattered to have reached the stature of getting prerelease CDs. As I read the attached bio of Bob Schneider, I started wondering why I hadn't heard of him before. The resume is quite impressive; he has sold 15,000 copies of a self released CD at just one store, won nine Austin Music Awards, toured with Dave Mathews (I opted not to hold that against him) and HORDE, and had the wherewithal to have a promotional company that sent the CD to me. How could I not have heard of this guy, what with my finger on the pulse of cowpunk, alt country, and apocalyptic trucker rock?

I soon discovered the reason for my ignorance of him after I listened to the CD, quite simply, he doesn't fit in. I don't mean that in a bad way by any means, simply that his music is not in keeping with the mission statement that Steve and I haven't gotten around to writing yet. But that being the case, here is the rest of the review.

Lonelyland is the inaugural major label CD from Austin musician Bob Schneider. It weighs in at 14 well-produced tracks of varying styles and tempos. This is one of the rare albums I've reviewed that had a flawless song order, and is something of a rarity in the wide assortment of styles exhibited on the album. It ranges from the worst song on the album, the sort of hip-hop Jingy, to the best song on the album, the sort of talking-blues 2002. Come to think of it, that last sentence exemplifies the album rather well; it is "sort of" al lot of things. Not too folk, not too punk (actually not punk at all), not too rock, not too blues, not too hip-hop (except for Jingy), not too happy, not too sad, not too loud, not too quiet. Basically, it's a collection of happy mediums, like the porridge that Goldilocks chose, or Canada.

The album is incredibly smooth, almost on the level of make-out music. This hurts the album slightly; there are very few songs that really jump out at you, which necessitates several hard listens (I use headphones for the first few listens of an album and it was still hard) to really get a grasp of the songs individually. The standout songs on the album are The World Exploded Into Love and 2002. 2002 is essentially a talking blues about (presumably) Schneider's life and travels. As a story, it is well told and interesting. The music also goes very well with the story and delivery. The worst song on the album, Jingy, seems like an experiment with hip-hop that went horribly awry. Enough about Jingy.

In conclusion, Lonelyland is NOT of the genre the average Redneck Underground patron is accustomed to. However, it is smooth, well written, and would probably make a good gift for a friend with more mainstream taste. Lonelyland is something that, upon hearing your friends playing it, you would probably come to the conclusion that although their musical tastes aren't quite up to snuff, at least they're getting better at picking bands.

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AZ Daily - The Wildcat Online - 4/20/01

Singer, guitarist disagrees with consumerism, uses it to promote new album
Musician Bob Schneider says it's not about making hits but about writing songs and creating art that matter most to him.

By Maggie Burnett

Musician Bob Schneider harps on the entertainment industry yet finds himself in a musical limelight.

Most people would not come right out and label themselves a "walking contradiction."

Then again, Bob Schneider, a musician from Austin, Texas, is not like most people.

Despite the successful sales of his latest album Lonelyland - the CD sold over 15,000 copies in just one Texas store - Schneider's far-from-ordinary view on the music business makes him stand out from some of the more mainstream artists in the circuit.

"My motto is 'Steal from the best, fuck the rest,'" he said with a laugh. "The entertainment industry and our entire culture is a consumer-based society. Everything in our society is based on consumption of worthless crap you don't need."

Schneider, performing at Plush, 340 E. Sixth St., Sunday night at 9, could not describe his style of music in one word.

"Talking about music is like dancing about architecture - you can't describe music. You have to listen to it to understand it," he said. "The music is actually touching you. It moves the air. It caresses you and you have an experience with it unlike any other."

Still, Schneider admitted his opinion of the entertainment industry is a perilous one, especially for an up-and-coming artist trying to make his way in the music world.

"It's dangerous and not good for business at all," he said. "We're told that stuff is important constantly. No matter how much we question whether we need it, part of us is going to say we need it so that your life can have some structure and stability even though it never will."

So how does a musician with this kind of attitude get his work signed to a record company? Apparently without much effort.

Lonelyland, Schneider's second solo album, was picked up by Universal Records earlier this year after he released it himself under an independent record label.

"Universal is a bit of an anomaly because the people who run that label are kind of old-school guys and they do believe in art as a vision," he said.

Although it may seem Schneider bears angst toward the entertainment industry and consumerism in general, he takes an ironic approach to his profession.

"You can put on my record and it will be something you can play on the radio or MTV or VH1 and they'll see that side of what I do," he said. "It's great for Universal, it's great for me. I'll make a lot of money which is good because then I don't have to work, and I can keep making more art."

Schneider said he knew he was one of the lucky ones from a young age. Playing the guitar since the age of 3 and the piano since the age of 6, Schneider also attributes his musical influence to his opera-singing father.

"His friends from the opera were always around," Schneider said about his father.

Even so, Schneider said he did not decide to pursue music as a profession until he went to college. Before that, he was headed toward a career in fine art.

"I really think in terms of making art instead of writing hits," he said. "Writing a song is more about the creative process. That lets the listener fill in the gaps for themselves and make it whatever they want to make it."

Leaving the music's interpretation open to the public also leaves room for it to interpret the artist. But Schneider said despite any criticism he may receive, he knows his own self-worth is all that matters.

"Here's my whole goal in life - just to be happy," he said. "To be able to look at myself in the mirror and go 'this guy's OK, a good person' and be at peace."

So maybe Schneider does contradict himself. But even the most outlandish of his assertions about society are based mostly on opinion.

"I'm making all of it up. It's just my opinion, and I have absolutely no idea about the truth of it," he said. "It's just stuff I've learned. I'm just trying to live life, to experience it. What you do while you're experiencing it is what matters."

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Unfortunately, there's a story in the most current issue of the National Enquirer (12/10/01) about Sandra Bullock breaking up with Bob and hooking up with Ben Affleck. Consider the source....Nevertheless, there is supposedly (although I haven't seen it) a photo of Bob accompanying the "story."
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Source: www.m-emag.com
Title:Lonelyland Review
Author:Doug Newcomb
Our View: *** 1/2

Singer/songwriter Bob Schneider has caused quite a stir down in his home base of Austin, Texas, where he consistently sells out gigs and outsells Limp Bizkit and Eminem at Waterloo, a popular local record store. Upon first listen to his solo debut, Lonelyland (Universal), you may wonder what all the fuss is about. But after several more spins of the disc and some careful listening, you start to appreciate what discerning music fans in the heart of the Lone Star State see in Schneider's songs as the music's subtle textures and the lyrics' veiled charm reveal themselves. While an unmistakable pop-music thread laces through Lonelyland, it's Schneider's off-kilter sensibility — as in the quirky funk of "Bullets" and the soft tropic sounds of "Moon Song" — that shapes each tune. Gruff Gomez-style vocals pop up in "Madeline," while "Jingy" sounds like a way-more bluesier Beck. "Madeline" starts out with a dirge-like bassline before going through mood swings that run from cabaret to psychedelia.

"Round and Round" begins and ends much like a typical acoustic-based folk song, but it's peppered in between with operatic voices and world-music sounds. The straight-ahead classic pop of "Metal and Steel" and restless rock-like drive of "Tokyo" prove that Schneider's songs are just as solid in a less complicated setting — and that he doesn't need gimmicks to make them kick. Lonelyland is where it's at.

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Source: Austinlive.com
Title:Lonelyland Review
Our View: Cool, baby, cool

The Saxon Pub is the perfect place to take the bummer ride with Lonelyland. The place provides the right atmosphere with it's ultra darkness and tight, close stage and you would never guess it from it's location in a strip center. All in all, quite conducive to the beatnik feel that goes with Lonelyland.

Lonelyland is made up of several talented members - Bob Schneider, lead vocals & guitar; Bruce Hughes, bass & wailing backup vocals; Mike Longoria, amazing drum man; and David Boyle, king of keys. Those names may be familiar to you as all but Longoria hail from Ugly Americans and The Scabs. Schneider, feeling his talent overflow, had the need to create yet another band in order to express his songwriting talent in a somewhat different style from the Uglies and Scabs. He has scored success with the Lonelyland project.

The style of the music can be described as lounge mixed with alt-country twang done up as mellow depression rock. In other words, doesn't fit into any one genre. The songs are incredibly written and masterfully performed with several layers of sounds going at once. Each artist seems to just drift into their own music wonderland and lay out their intrepretation of the song at hand. It all adds up to one rich sound.

The Monday night show at Saxon has been a regular gig for the band for some months now. Often they have guests join them like they did this night with Stephen Bruton. Bruton knows how to work a guitar and evoke sounds that are hard to achieve. It was obvious that he was well respected by the band as they followed his lead down various musical paths with their pick up on the fly style of playing.

Lonelyland recently performed at Antone's and amazed the crowd with their talented songwriting skills and performance. They are sure to be part of the buzz of the SXSW fest with their songs that include lyrics that range from depression, "life is just a great big whatever anyways", to the touch of Scabs fun, "it's time to go...when your girlfriend's dick is bigger than your own." Be prepared to be taken on a journey from angst to anger to silliness and fun during your trip to Lonelyland.

NOTE: Mike Longoria, the extremely talented drum guru from Lonelyland, will be playing at the Elephant Room on Sunday night during SXSW as the Mike Longoria Quartet. Longoria makes his own drums and uses all sorts of interesting items to create what has to be one of the best percussion sounds we've heard in a long while. This is one talented dude that can keep a great beat!

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Snippet off
www.onthatnote.com
Title:Lonelyland/Superego
Saxon Pub, April 3, 2000

Lonely is not a word that came to mind as I entered the Saxon Pub on Monday night for Bob Schneider and his Lonelyland show. Lonelyland played to a packed, standing room only, house on April 3rd (as they do every Monday night). This is Schneider's (ala Scabs, Ugly Americans) solo project and he is accompanied by accomplished musicians with Stephen Bruton on acoustic guitar, David Boyle on keyboards, Bruce Hughes on standup bass (the electric, skinny kind), and Mike Longoria on drums. The band was seated in an acoustic relaxed setting at this little pub in South Austin.

Schneider's CD, Lonelyland, was released in February and has gotten some attention due to three of his song's being included on girlfriend Sandra Bullock's movie soundtrack for Gun Shy. With this exposure, Schneider became the first unsigned musical performer to appear on The Tonight Show with Jay Leno. Not to mention the truckload of Austin Music Awards he took home last month…

So, things are happening for Mr. Schneider, but he still shows up for his weekly gigs at Saxon Pub. He creates an easy atmosphere, going smoothly from warm up right into their first song, "2002." Schneider's songs move from sensitivity to debauchery, from heartbreak to who cares? with personal lyrics and obscure references. A common theme is being stuck in between, as in "Metal and Steel" ("left me here in the twilight zone") and "Big Blue Sea" ("Sometimes I feel like superman, sometimes I'm just recuperating"). While "Round & Round" has an obvious hook, he added texture by including Bullock's mother Helga, with a sampling of an operatic aria on the CD version. In this show, bass player Hughes added the high brow touches and it worked.

Schneider is a charming host for the evening. He led the band through a recollection of their past five years at Saxon (a joke, I think it's been a little more than a year?) with each member rising to the challenge with some witty repartee. Bruton professed a blackout of the experience, Hughes mentioned the night he was married (to which Bob remarked "whatever happened to that guy?"), with Longoria citing the night he received his Ph.D (in filthy lucre). Boyle just ranted in an undecipherable manner about Guinness and Hughes' gay marriage (also a joke).

Later Schneider played "Madeline" and "Loreena," his songs with women's names in the title. He is challenged by the audience to sing another. Melissa is thrown out and Schneider dishes up a freestyle "Goddamn Melissa, I Miss Her Melissa." He introduced his "mid 20s breakup song" saying that in the first two months all you can do is angry stuff (he actually screamed out Goddamn to illustrate). He also told a tale about opening for Dave Matthews a few years back and how he tried to piss people off with raunchy numbers like "Hanging Out with the Horny Girls."

Schneider mixes styles in the acoustic format, from ballad to rocking. His expertise is with his rapid fire hip-hop delivery which I particularly appreciate in the acoustic setting. He played for two solid hours, was funny, cute, sexy (although a bit scruffy with the facial hair this night), and serious all at the same time. They finished up the set, as they do every Monday, by singing their "It's Time to Go" song, but in the fashion that the audience picked. Tonight it was Santana, which threw a bit of a snafu to Schneider, who eventually pulled off "Oh, it's time to go… right now" to "Evil Ways."

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Tonos.com has three interview video clips of Bob.

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Yahoo!/BigJam.com 18-minute
Lonelyland Performance and Interview, 3/12/000, Saxon Pub, SXSW (Performance of 'Lorena')

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Find a 1-hour interview with Bob on
GetMusic.


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SOURCE: Houston Press
DATE: July 25, 1996
TITLE: Nasty Conquers All
AUTHOR: Hobart Rowland

Determination, and bad manners, rescue Ugly Americans from a sorry fate

It's only been a year, but it might as well have been a lifetime ago. Flash back to 1995. Austin's Ugly Americans were living the rock star lifestyle they'd always felt they deserved, touring the country with Big Head Todd and the Monsters and the Dave Matthews Band, staying in fancy hotels and generally partying their funky shorts off. Already well-known at home for their blistering live shows and considerable way with a fat, white-boy groove, the Uglies had never really needed a reason to be cocky before; it just seemed to be a standard part of their makeup. Now, for once, they had a decent excuse: a major-label deal with Warner Bros. subsidiary Giant. Life, as the saying goes, was good.

Then the roof caved in.

What unfolded afterward is the sort of ripe, rise-above-adversity saga that threatens to be more intriguing than the actual band at its center -- though I doubt the Ugly Americans would see it that way. A group of seasoned Austin veterans, the Uglies is an inherently privileged sextet. They've never had a problem with self-confidence, which makes them a hard bunch to feel sorry for, especially given that things have tended to come easily for them.

Case in point: in '94, less than a year after they formed, the Uglies slipped smoothly into the H.O.R.D.E. lineup for some select dates (and, ultimately, into a jam-band stigma they have yet to shake). They recorded a self-titled live CD that was released independently in early '95, and soon accolades came pouring in from all over. The group managed an appearance on MTV's Week in Rock, something Uglies frontman Bob Schneider chose not to participate in, preferring instead to watch a favorite Roseanne rerun. Even Entertainment Weekly found some space for the Uglies, praising them as one of the country's best unsigned bands.

So when it came time late last summer to record their Giant debut, the Ugly Americans seemed on the speedy track to stardom. They headed to Los Angeles to work with big-name producer Don Gehman (R.E.M., Hootie and the Blowfish) and walked away a few weeks later with Stereophonic Spanish Fly. It was the rarest of first-effort souvenirs -- a CD that made everyone involved happy.

"It was a very collaborative effort," says Ugly Americans bassist Sean McCarthy. "You always hear those quintessential stories about the whole negative producer thing; that didn't happen with us at all."

But if the work in the studio was a dream, what was happening in the corporate offices of Giant promised a nightmare. The relatively young label had decided it was time to restructure and fine-tune its image, and the Uglies, it became clear, were not going to be part of the project.

"It's just the way it goes, and I speak from having dealt with a lot of labels," says Ugly Americans manager Mark Bliesener, a man who also handles the affairs of Big Head Todd and the Monsters, a band that survived the overhaul of Giant. "All the labels are equally good or bad. If you're getting a lot of airplay, they're good; if you're not, they're bad."

The Ugly Americans, though, never had the chance to prove themselves on the airwaves. Summer stretched to fall stretched to winter, and Stereophonic Spanish Fly's release was still on hold. Then in January '96, Giant cut the Uglies loose. They were left to fend for themselves with only a small supply of advance CDs, some of which had already made their way to radio stations in anticipation of Stereophonic's release. A few weeks later, Giant changed its name to Revolution. Some year.

"It wasn't like one day we just woke up and didn't have a label. They were very subtle," recalls McCarthy. "They were kind of wussy about it -- saying they weren't sure whether they wanted us or not. What made it worse was knowing that we had come back from Los Angeles with this amazing record. We'd play it for our friends, and they'd be like, 'That's great, when does it come out?' And we'd be like, 'Well, uh, we're not sure now.' It was frustrating."

It was a lot to stomach, but the Ugly Americans managed to stay sane by staying active. In the months after its falling out with Giant, the band performed almost nonstop, playing regularly in Austin, Houston and Boulder, Colorado -- all Uglies hubs -- and trying not to wear out its welcome. Then this spring, they finally found a new label, Nashville-based Capricorn, which has a national distribution deal with Mercury Records. Last week, Capricorn released the long-delayed Stereophonic Spanish Fly.

Even though the CD has finally surfaced, it's hard for McCarthy not to sound a little exasperated. After all, the time that's been spent this year pulling in weekend crowds on Sixth Street and filling the Fabulous Satellite Lounge a few times a month could have been used to gain a foothold in other markets. "We do well in Houston for a city of, what, four million people," he quips cynically. "[But] we couldn't tour anywhere else because we didn't have a label. We were in limbo."

McCarthy founded the Ugly Americans, an outfit conceived out of an admiration for the fierce grooves of funk demigod George Clinton and the sex-soaked rhythm and blues of James Brown, in 1993. The Uglies were a casual, soulful union of misfits and outcasts from other bands that, as it happened, were pretty well-known.

Before starting the Uglies, McCarthy played with Mojo Nixon's Toadliquors. Uglies drummer Dave Robinson and organist Corey Mauser (who was replaced last year by Australian export David Boyle) came from Loose Diamonds, while guitarist/singer Bruce Hughes had been with Poi Dog Pondering and Cracker. Add to that mix the somewhat less impressive resumes of Schneider (Joe Rockhead) and lead guitarist Max Evans (the Thangs), and what you had wasn't exactly a superstar lineup, but at least one with affiliations snazzy enough to give the group a good head start.

As much as they helped, though, those credentials also threatened to overshadow the group. The gigs came easily, but getting people to recognize the Ugly Americans as a true band, and not just a haphazard collection of "formerly withs," was more difficult. Three years down the line, the Uglies still see stories that play up their heritage more prominently than their current exploits.

"It's good and bad," McCarthy says. "As an introduction, it's good for everyone to know our backgrounds. But then it should be like, 'Get on with it.' It is valid; it gets your attention, so it's a good start. And if we mislead someone, I'll guarantee their money back."

From the looks of things now, the Ugly Americans needn't worry about misleading anyone. Live, the group's soul-drenched bravado can rock a sturdy venue right off its foundations. Led by Schneider's strong lungs and free-spirited machismo, the band operates smoothly to a single throbbing pulse even as its members retain their individuality. There's the hammy lady's man, the weight-lifting jock, the hippie-looking freak with a nasty streak, a few artsy, quiet types: the Uglies are an unlikely bunch who find their connection in music.

The Ugly Americans could squeeze an orgy out of a funeral wake, and they've never been ones to pine over lost love -- or lost opportunity. Now, with their hands-on seminar in music industry politics behind them, they are concentrating again on staying true to their name. For evidence, one need only go back a month or so to a performance at the Fabulous Satellite Lounge. Before taking the stage, the Uglies' Hughes waltzed into a packed men's room and ordered a patron to zip up and surrender his urinal; he had to take a leak and didn't feel like waiting.

Was Hughes joking, or was he serious? It's hard to tell -- probably a little of both. Whatever the case, his prey acquiesced, finishing fast and graciously offering up the porcelain to Hughes, who made water and then made it back in time to join the Uglies for one of their finest Houston shows to date. It was a fun tale, one that found its way easily back to the crowd in front of the stage. But this time, the story couldn't hold a candle to the band.

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SOURCE: Houston Press
DATE: June 7, 2001
TITLE: Tall Poppy
AUTHOR: Rob Patterson

Bob Schneider goes nationwide without the - gasp! - approval of Austin's hipsters

(Schneider wants to kill - creatively, at least - all those who pooh-pooh his work.)

It's Saturday afternoon during this year's South by Southwest, and the collection of independent parties known as South by South Congress is in full swing along South Austin's main thoroughfare. Musical acts perform at a variety of establishments along the avenue and in the alley behind it.

The Yard Dog folk art gallery helped originate this tradition with an annual multi-day bash that features the cream, as well as the crumbs, of alternative country. The joint's proprietor, a sometime musician with roots in Austin's New Sincerity days, is doing bang-up business in the front of his store. But at the party out back, an unscheduled performer has sneaked on stage, and the owner is irked. With a hammy expression and sardonic edge, he announces to a crony, "Gee, who's playing now?" The response comes back slathered with sarcasm: "I don't know who that is."

What's got them bothered is that Bob Schneider has dared to mount the Yard Dog hustings for a few songs with his acoustic guitar. As he plays, a local music scene follower makes a "puke me" hand gesture. "Bob Schneider! Ick!" she chirps with a nasty edge.

A few months later during an idyllic spring afternoon, the incident is related to Schneider over brisket at Green Mesquite. Asked how he feels about it, Schneider replies: "Man, I want to be loved by everybody. I want every single person in the world to agree that I'm the greatest musician ever," he says calmly. "[When] I get a negative review or someone says that I'm pretty good or compares me to artists that I don't like -- anything that doesn't fit that level of perfection I'm looking for -- I get annoyed. So you tell me that story, and I go, 'Can't that woman see how great I am?' "

Such braggadocio usually elicits a gag reflex from a journalist. But Schneider's comments were preceded by modesty, a humility matched, to be sure, by a calm confidence. The "every person should agree I'm the greatest" attitude seems more apropos of the onstage Schneider that fronted Joe Rockhead, the Ugly Americans and the Scabs, the club-packing party bands that successively ruled the Austin scene for the better part of the last decade. And as if to prove the point, the boastful talk is quickly followed by words of reason.

"Unfortunately, not everybody is going to dig what I do, not matter how well I want to do it. The more successful I get, the more suspicious people are going to be, especially people who are too cool for school."

Yes, there are a few of those people in the environs of Town Lake. Austin is a hotbed for the hipper-than-thou squad. The local scene purports to be supportive but is marked by vicious backbiting. And Schneider has committed some cardinal sins against the Capital City cool canon. First, he's dared to make a good living, and he doesn't subsist on the meager fare of critical acclaim and tiny select audiences of the hipster elite. Also, instead of displaying the de rigueur postmodern detachment, Schneider is a fervent entertainer who draws -- gasp! -- hordes of hormonal college kids to his gigs. And last, he's won the heart of Sandra Bullock, America's sweetheart and Austin's biggest resident celebrity.

Worst of all, he's done it all without being anointed by the local hip crowd.

One might easily surmise some poorly concealed envy from those who dismiss Schneider with such cavalier nastiness -- tall poppies like Schneider are no match for the razor tongues of Austin's would-be wags -- not to mention plain old ignorance. "They've never seen me play, and they've never listened to my music," says Schneider. "But I do the same thing. There's huge groups like 'N Sync and Backstreet Boys, who I immediately discount, without hearing, as talentless."

But unlike his detractors, Schneider has an open mind. "I just saw part of a show that 'N Sync did at Madison Square Garden, and it was pretty amazing. They were rocking the shit out of that place, way harder than I probably could do. But I've always blown those guys off. Do they suck? I have no fucking idea. And having a little bit of success has made me realize that I'm just as close-minded as anybody. So when I hear that kind of stuff, it sounds like something I would [say]. Who knows? Maybe that girl who turned up her nose might hear a record of mine one day, and go, 'Oh, that guy's pretty good.' Or she may hear it and still hate it. I don't give a fuck, y'know?"

Of course, Schneider probably does give a fuck, although his accomplishments no doubt salve any wounds from such sniping. His Lonelyland album, first released by Schneider on his own label, was the best-selling disc ever, local or national, at Austin's Waterloo Records, selling some 7,500 copies on first release and doubling those numbers since its major-label rerelease. Now Universal, which has signed Schneider to a deal that allows him to continue putting out records on his own, hopes to expand those numbers beyond the Lone Star State's Latte City on the Lake.

The reason that Schneider sells so well in Austin isn't just his party band popularity. The people pooh-poohing him at the Yard Dog party probably weren't disposed to hearing how Schneider's songs, stripped nearly bare, are as well crafted and imaginative as any heard all week at the mega-event, maybe more so. National critics are dropping names like Prince, Paul Simon, Tom Waits, Randy Newman, Van Morrison, Beck, Sting and David Byrne in reviews of Lonelyland, and not without due cause. Rich in musicality and sincere in intent, the album is a sophisticated pop-rock collection beyond anything else the oft-overrated Austin scene has produced in recent years.

For Schneider, the secret to his long- running success has always been simple. "The one thing that I've consistently tried to do is have something new every time I play," he explains. "I don't think you can play two songs in a row and not have anything new. Every time somebody comes to a show, I want them to see something that they're never going to see again, and also hear something they've never heard before."

Now he's hoping to export that philosophy beyond Texas. As his circle of influence widens, however, Schneider has to deal with more than the usual Austin bullshit; there's the inevitable jealousy and conspiracy theories that go with dating a famous actress. "When you start dating a celebrity, it turns the whole world into high school again," he notes. What irks him is how "people are going to draw the conclusion that I suck, and the only reason they are hearing about me is because of who I'm dating," he says. "I work really hard at what I do. To have it possibly negated because of who I'm dating annoys me."

But having put his party days behind him, Schneider is finding satisfaction in being Austin's hardest-working musician (not to damn the man with faint praise). "I don't know what I'm going to do after I get bored with this," he surmises. "Maybe I'll have to change my name."

"Cleaning up my act has given me a chance to figure out what's going to make me happy, and come closer to discarding the idea that fame and fortune is going to do it," he concludes. "I think what's going to make me happy is being okay with the world and coming to peace with myself and the world."

And maybe to one day have that faux hipsterette brag to all and sundry about how she once saw the great Bob Schneider perform solo behind a folk art gallery on South Congress in Austin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


SOURCE: Houston Press
DATE: September 27, 2001
TITLE: Minibill
AUTHOR: Greg Barr

The last time this writer spoke to Bob Schneider, it was nearly 3 a.m., and he had just played his butt off with one of his now semi-defunct bands, the Scabs, at the Fabulous Satellite Lounge. He paid the band, and then hopped into his rented BMW Z3 and took off. He had packed them in and whipped them into a frenzy, as usual. Women we had never met wrapped their arms around total strangers and screamed "Pussy Fever" until they were hoarse. So it will be interesting to see Schneider's transition to big-room status as he brings his music-for-grown-ups to town. He will likely stage a performance focusing on the present and future rather than his illustrious and notorious past. He hasn't forgotten his funky roots, though; he'll still toss in a bad word or two, because he's the last one who'll forget where he came from.

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SOURCE: Houston Press
DATE: May 1999
TITLE: Scabba-Dabba-Do
AUTHOR: Bob Ruggerio

Guitars, horns and irony fuel Austin band The Scabs

It was the kind of career that hundreds of bands would gladly give up at least some groupie privileges to reach: two releases on a mid-level record label (also home to nationally known acts such as 311 and Cake), a spot opening up for the Dave Matthews Band on tour and the chance to join the traveling rock caravan known as the H.O.R.D.E. tour. But for the Austin-based groove band The Ugly Americans, all these circumstances merely led to break up -- though not "break up" in the usual sense. Out of the Ugly Americans wreckage, The Scabs, a musical outgrowth that at one point had the exact same band members, simply took over the Uglies' deteriorating form.

"The Ugly Americans are dying a quiet death," says bassist Bruce Hughes. "The two bands had completely different attitudes and sets of material. And with The Scabs, we can do any crazy fucking rock and roll thing we want to do."

Says singer Bob Schneider: "This band is where my heart is, not the Ugly Americans. That's because there's no musical boundaries or limits with The Scabs." But while the band still struggles with an identity crisis and the low-level confusion that comes with morphing one unit into another, it's clear that the better musical menagerie has emerged in the nine-piece Scabs.

ANd though The Scabs' members play in black suits and have a horn section, one spin of its records or ten minutes at a live show will prove that this is not yet another (Oh, God! Make them stop!) neoswing revival band. In fact, the biggest strength of The Scabs is the diversity of its music.

Its CDs are like minitours of every musical genre. Swinging from hard funk ("Staysha Brown") to stone country ("Pudding and Cheese") to salsa ("Woman") to soul ("So Fresh & So Fine") to rap ("Bones") to jazz ("Man of the Year") to Tex-Mex ("Tarantula') to even doo-wop ("Hanging Out with the Horny Girls") with an anarchic sense of no rhyme or reason, the band seems determined not to get pegged with any one musical style.

"When people ask what kind of band we are, I just say we're a dance band," says singer Schneider. "Our shows are a big party, and that's what keeps people coming back."

Or it could be people's taste for raunch that keeps them around. Schneider calls the band's music in-your-face, party-oriented music to which you can dance but which also has tongue-in-cheek vulgarity in it. What else could you expect from guys who write little ditties such as "Big Butts and Blow Jobs," "Pussy Fever," "Fuck Me," and an epic, which indirectly led to the band's very formation, "I Fucked Your Daughter in the Ass, Boy"?

"Those songs are done in a way that's playful and honest," says Schneider, who writes most of the lyrics. "It's not misogynistic, like 'Smack My Bitch Up,' and you can see that clearly in the live show. We're not going out of our way to offend anybody. And, let's be real, they're also pretty damn funny."

In concert, you might find any one of these songs immediately followed by a torrid rendition of REO Speedwagon's "Can't Fight This Feeling." But to understand how the band has come to this juncture, you have to go all the way back to 1993.

That's when the Ugly Americans formed as a side project for a group of Austin musicians that included Joe Rockhead, Schneider, Hughes (who had played with both Cracker and Poi Dog Pondering), drummer David "Snizz" Robinson and a supporting cast of rotating musicians. The band landed a spot on the 1994 H.O.R.D.E. tour, which led to similar gigs with the Dave Matthews Band and Big Head Todd and the Monsters. The groove-rock-oriented band released a self-titled, self-produced debut in 1995 before signing with Capricorn Records, which put out Stereophonic Spanish Fly the next year. It yielded a minor radio hit, "Vulcan Death Grip of Love."

But by 1996 Schneider had amassed a dozen or so songs, including "I Fucked Your Daughter in the Ass, Boy," that he felt wouldn't fit into the sound the Uglies had established (not to mention within the somewhat simmering musical conflicts between band members). So he forme The Scabs as an offshoot band with Robinson and guitarist Adam "Slowpoke" Temple.

"I knew the Uglies would never play this material and wouldn't even think about it," Schneider says. "It jsut wasn't valid for some people in the band. And with The Scabs, I just wanted a grab bag of stuff, everything from a polka or a snippet of a song to a full-blown rock-opera." And indeed, during regular Tuesday-night gigs at Austin's fabled blues club Antone's, The Scabs might segue from an original art-rock piece to a Neil Sedaka cover to a Tipper Gore-cringing track called "Butt Pussy." Eventually, the band's set lists began to reflect more dance-oriented tunes, which people clamored to hear.

In the meantime, the Ugly Americans continued to play on weekends around the region. The summer of 1996 saw the band members in the studioto record Boom Boom Baby, which they hoped would be a breakout hit. The band says Capricorn sat on the disc for more than a year and a half, effectively freezing any momentum the Uglies had at that point.

But a funny thing happened to the lineups as the months dragged on: They began to look more and more alike. Uglies would leave the fold to join The Scabs, then play with both bands and vice versa. On the Scabs side, Robinson quit, then returned after his replacement began to suffer asthma attacks on stage. Charles Reiser replaced a guitarist who had a bout with schizophrenia (once telling Schneider ominously, "There's a battle between good and evil in this room"). And Ugly David Boyle joined on keyboards.

"Bob definitely siphoned people into The Scabs," Hughes says with a laugh.

But by far the most important addition to the group was a horn section, which at first consisted of Carlos Sosa (saxophone) and Fernie "Maddog" Castillo (trumpet). The pair also convinced the band to add their horn-blowing friend Rolo on trombone, despite objections about the group's spinning-out-of-control size. Now it's impossible to listen to The Scabs and imagine the absence of horns. "They're brilliant," Hughes says of the trio. And Schneider, who was vehemently against becoming "a fucking horn band," was eventually won over by the trio's impeccable musicianship.

By late 1997 only one member separated the two bands. But when an Ugly guitarist left, instigating another interband transfer and the institution of Hughes into The Scabs, the nine-piece lineups were identical, though neither had a record out at the time.

The Scabs, desperate to fill the void for some product, last year released Freebird, a live disc culled from its Antone's shows, which, according to Hughes, could have been considered a serious breach of contract by Capricorn. The label finally released Boom Boom Baby shortly thereafter. Confusion between the bands, their music and their shows was perhaps inevitable, and Schneider says that people who hadn't seen the Ugly Americans in several years couldn't recognize the band that played under the name now. Stuck and unhappy with what the band viewed as a "less than satisfactory" relationship with its label, the Ugly Americans asked to be released from its contract. Capricorn complied earlier this year.

"We wanted to continue with what we were doing as the Ugly Americans, but with a fresh start," Hughes says. "That name had a lot of historical baggage, and we were tied to [the label] with it. In the end, it seemed better just to [dissolve]."

Now firmly ensconsed in one group with one direction, The Scabs entered the studio to record the follow-up to Freebird, a disc called More Than a Feeling, on the band's own Shockorama label. It was released last month and is selling well at gigs.

But even though Schneider casually mentions that he's also involved with yet another side band, he is completely comfortable with the current Scab lineup, which he hopes stays permanent.

"It's like a puzzle where the pieces just kept falling into place," says Schneider. "I mean, you couldn't pick nine guys out of anywhere and get the same mix of talent and [feeling] that we have now and didn't before. It's just a weird, mysterious chemistry that works."

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MusicMatch Interview

Fame vs. Carrot Cake
MUSICMATCH: So how are things going with you?
Bob Schneider: Good

MM: You're on tour right now?
BS: Getting ready to go in a week. Actually I'm on vacation until Friday.

MM: So I'm cutting into your vacation time right now?
BS: Oh, no not at all.

MM: You're going to be on tour with Stevie Nicks?
BS: Yep, doing a month with her. Maybe longer.

MM: How did that come about?
BS: I don't know. I'm sure it's a combination of my manager and the record company.

MM: The album is out, came out in March, though it's not your latest album.
BS: I actually put out another one about six months afterwards with a guy name Mitch Watkins who lives in Austin. He's a jazz guitar player. I've put out three records under my own, but Universal wanted to re-release the second one. The first and the third are just guitar and vocals so they're not real commercial.

MM: How do you feel about that? Are you okay with whatever they think is going to sell? Would you prefer to get those released later with wide distribution?
BS: I can do whatever I want with those records. I can distribute them. I sell them at shows. I sell them on the Internet. If the record starts doing well nationally, then maybe I'll look into distributing those records so people get them, but right now if people want them they can go to the website and get them.

MM: It seems like you're taking the whole fame thing pretty laid back. Any secrets to that? How is life different now?
BS: I've been doing pretty well for quite a while. The only thing that's changed is that people know my name a little bit more than they used to. Whereas before, they used to just call me the guy from whatever band I was in. I don't think fame changes too much. It changes a few things a little bit, but for the most part you're the same person. You've still got the same problems and the same difficulties. The same things that made you happy, make you happy, and the same things that made you sad, make you sad.

MM: So what does make you happy right now?
BS: Carrot cake. Chris Rock. I don't know, a t-shirt that fits right.

MM: What makes you sad?
BS: Damn, what makes me sad? Going to the casino in Canada and Niagara. That made me real sad. Checking out that humanity.

MM: Seeing other people...
BS: I don't know, just that desperation.


Breaking The Rules
MM: I see in your songwriting you take the position of an observer of life. Would you agree with that? You've written over 600 songs. Is that where it comes from, you being an observer of people and of life around you? BS: I guess. My drama teacher in college told me that to make an artist you should observe and stay out of the way. I've always felt more comfortable trying to be inconspicuous and stay in the corner and watch things than try to be the center of attention. The only time I like being the center of attention is when I'm on stage. The rest of the time I like being a fly on the wall, so maybe there's some of that.

MM: I've read where you've said you're more comfortable on stage than in day-to-day life. Is that because you can step outside yourself?
BS: I think its because in real life you kind of have to live, you have to be what society tells you that you have to be, or whatever your company is that time you have to abide by those rules. There's all these rules. There's religious rules and cultural rules. There's all the ways that you're supposed to act it's hard to keep track of everything so I usually just try to pipe down. If you're out at dinner and you jump up on the top of the table and start making crazy screaming sounds people eventually will consider you a danger to society and lock you up, but if you're on stage and jump on top of the piano and do it people go 'Ooh that's a good show.' So, on stage I feel that I can do and say anything because its my show and people are cool with that, but in real life you can't really say whatever's on your mind, because people might not like it or they might lock you up or you might get killed or get beaten to a pulp. I don't like any of those things.

MM: You can say whatever's on your mind now, and I promise you won't be looked upon as a crazy person.
BS: (laughs)

MM: The title of the album is Lonelyland.
BS: Right

MM: But you used to use that as a performing name.
BS: I did. When I first started I felt uncomfortable with my name Bob Schneider. I always have, and I've always romanticized about... I had this romantic idea that I would change my name to a more rock 'n' roll type name. Even today, I wish I had, at some point, changed it to something like Bobby Sanyo or, I don't know, Walter Two-heads -- anything that had a little bit of zing to it, that didn't sound so damn Dukes of Hazzard.

MM: Do you get a lot of that?
BS: Not a ton. It's just like anything, its not really the name that matters. I mean the Beatles was a pretty sh*tty name for a band. but the band was so f**king good that eventually when you think of the Beatles you think oh that was a great band name because the band was great.

MM: I heard a quote by Ringo Starr where he said that if radio in 1964 had the attitudes that they have today, that people would never have heard of the Beatles.
BS: Probably not. They probably wouldn't have heard of a lot of bands actually. Radio's... radio's not what it used to be.

MM: Do you think it will ever change? will people demand a change?
BS: I don't have a lot of hope at all really for society in general, and radio's part of it, because radio's owned by huge corporations. The way radio works as far as I can tell from what I've been able to glean from my few encounters at the folks at these radio stations is that they go for four-second soundbites and the only thing that people are going to recognize from four-second soundbites are classic rock songs. I don't know how it works, but to me there tends to be a climate of fear whenever I go into those radio stations and it's all about producing results and producing numbers and its not about vision its not about somebody going with their gut and saying oh I like this or this is good so I'm going to play it people might not get it right away, but they'll eventually get it because it's good. It's not that way at all anymore in radio It's 'at the end of the month, how many advertising dollars have you made? How many people are listening to the radio station?' That's it. It's not about vision. The record companies are the same way, too, for the most part. There's not a lot of vision. It's all about selling records and the bottom line. There's not a lot of development. The only thing that's going to get played is something that you hear for ten seconds and it sounds great or it sounds like everything else that's out there - for ten seconds.

MM: You got a deal, you got a record deal. Obviously, exceptions happen.
BS: Exceptions happen. I think there are exceptions in that there are still independent stations out there that are owned by visionaries and they play whatever they feel like is good. There are still radio stations like that out there. There's not many and you add them all up and it's about one watt.

MM: Do you buy the argument that the Internet could change all that?
BS: It might. And it has and it will. Satellite radio. The thing about rock 'n' roll and music and the world is that it's always changing. No matter what you do you can't go back to 1973... or 84... or 92. So yeah, it's definitely going to change it.

Fast, Cheap and Out of Control
MM: I know you said you don't have much hope for society in general. That's a pretty telling statement as far your outlook.
BS: Have you ever seen that movie Fast Cheap and Out of Control? When I look around me that's pretty much what I see. Just that title, not that movie. I think I came away from that movie thinking that maybe there's no God. They kind of hinted at that the whole time where they were talking about the robots and they'll just keep reproducing themselves and we might be extinct, but they'll still be reproducing themselves. I was like man that's like us. Maybe God created the universe, maybe God's extinct and we're just cruising along.

MM: I think a lot of people share that vision that we're machines, and really just doing what our genetics program us to do and we don't really have as much say as we think we do.
BS: If you think of God as like this comforting idea that will help you get through life with death looming on the horizon which I kind of do, that movie was a bit jarring for me. Anyways, that's not what I was talking about when I said fast cheap and out of control. We're just living in a world where convenience is king and or at least the United States convenience is king and it's matte consumerism run rampant.

MM: You look at things like the G-8 protests... people are getting their fill of globalized corporate control. It may not be the most constructive way to push back, but I think a lot of people are getting fed up.
BS: I think riots are definitely the answer. (laughs)

MM: You think we need to be shocked into change?
BS: Yeah, well definitely. Life's pretty easy. It flows pretty good in the States. You can get your Doritos whenever you want. You've got TV to put you to sleep. We're pretty set in our society. I mean, I'm disgusted when I look around the world at what's going on. But, at the same time... I was reading in The Onion... you know they have those quotes by all those people.

MM: Right, the supposed person-on-the-street.
BS: They had this one from this lady. 'I'm appalled by what's happening in the world, but I'm also adamantly opposed to lifting a finger to do anything about it.' That's so great, because that's the way I am. I'll talk about how disgusted I am with everything, but when it comes to actually doing anything at all about it, I don't do anything. I don't think I'm alone.

MM: Definitely not. I think that things like that bubble up inside you and then maybe at some point you'll just say enough is enough and explode with something.
BS: I mean I'm pretty appalled by my apathy when it comes to the global... you know, whatever.

MM: Does any of that come out in the music?
BS: I'm not political at all. I don't spend a lot of time. I don't read the paper. I don't watch TV. I don't listen to the radio. I try not to spend any time you know putting that stuff into my head because I end up thinking that I might be losing my sh*t or something because it just doesn't make a lot of sense to me -- feels real made up. I feel real inadequate after a while, like I need something more than I have. I don't know. It just drives me crazy so I stay away from all that stuff. Probably because I don't put a lot of that stuff in my head, there's not a lot of stuff to write about, so it's more abstract. Most of my stuff is real relationship-based because that's the stuff that I deal with usually on a day-to-day basis.

A One-man Riot?
MM: Well bringing up relationships, I have to ask about Sandra Bullock...
BS: Now why do you have to? That's what I'm curious about. Is that part of the rulebook?

MM: I think that is part of the rulebook.
BS: It might be time to re-write the rulebook. It might be time for some rioting. Lately there's been some rioting, a one-man riot. You could be that one-man riot.

MM: To stand up and finally say no...
BS: I like that one-man riot concept. That might have to be a song. It's like that.. I just read some book of poems it was called Blizzard of One. That was kind of cool. All right so anyway what was the question?

MM: So how did you meet, how is that going, anything that may be on your mind, any rumors... I don't know, what's the deal there?
BS: (laughs) I don't know, we met in Austin. It's been going pretty good.

MM: Still going good?
BS: As of today, yeah.

MM: You sound pretty mellow about most things, that included. That's working, so no real big grand plans?
BS: Grand plans? No, it seems to be okay today.

MM: That's cool. That's really all you can ask for in a relationship, from my standpoint. Would you agree?
BS: I agree.

MM: When you think of the most ideal relationship you could possibly be in, would that be what you're in now?
BS: The only possible answer that I can give you to that question is. Yes. Unfortunately... not unfortunately, but there is a rulebook, and there's no rioting. There's no riot of one that's going to be happening in this interview. The only answer to that question is a resounding... yes.

MM: I hear you.
BS: Any other answer would be foolish.

A Musician not a Monkey
MM: So... you say you don't listen to the radio a lot or watch TV. Are there any other artists out there that you think are worthwhile that you particularly like but you don't think anyone has heard of?
BS: I don't think I know of anybody that nobody's heard of. I just saw Mike Doughty from Soul Coughing. He's cruising around doing these solo shows. That guy writes the best lyrics of anybody. He writes these beautiful poems and sets them to music. I think he's amazing. Truly a super-genius. I like Pedro the Lion a lot. I know a lot of people have heard of him. I think that guy's incredible. That guy's a super-genius as far as I can tell. I saw him when he came to Austin a couple months back. He's got that original magic, pure thing that you hardly ever see. I really like that group Grandaddy. I've been listening to that Sophtware Slump for about the last three months. I guess I got on that bandwagon a little late, but I think they're amazing. I love that record. Every time I hear it I'm like 'these guys are amazing.' Of course I like Elliot Smith and Ben Folds Five I like anybody who like writes their own stuff and performs it. Even if it's sh*tty.

MM: As long as they put in the effort.
BS: Yeah, I mean I have a hard time with pre-fab. Pre-fab's good, it's just not my thing. I'm more into the grow your own, smoke your own. Instead of, you know, don't grow sh*t, smoke everybody's... but that's fine too. I grow my own and smoke my own, but you can do it anyway you want, really. It's just a matter of what you like. I like what I do. That's probably why I like that kind of music. If I didn't play music maybe I'd like the other variety.

MM: On your album and in the music you play, there's such a wide variety of styles that you seem to dabble in.
BS: Music is so wide open. You can convey any emotion and you've got all these ways you can do it. You can be real soft and sweet, or you can be real loud and sweet, or you can be real soft and angry, or you can be real loud and angry. You can use all these different styles of music from all over the world. They all kind of convey a different emotion. You can mix and match. I mean, my favorite thing in the world is to do a straight up country song and follow that up with a straight rap song on stage and then follow that up with an art rock piece and then follow that up with a sweet syrupy ballad and then follow that with a song where basically the whole message is 'f**k you' but real soft and sweet. Because you can. I'm amazed that people don't do that. If you've got Ice Cube and you've got Pink Floyd and you've got King Sunny Ade and you've got Tom Waits and you've got all these things you can draw from. Why not use them all? It's not like nobody's ever heard of that stuff. Not everybody but a lot of people have. I listen to stuff from all over the world and there's so much good stuff out there, that if I hear something I like, I like to use it.

MM: I was just in the record store yesterday and thinking that there's almost too much good music and that it can drive you crazy if you think about everything that's good that you're not even able to hear yet.
BS: Yeah, but more than that there's way more sh*tty music that you'll never be able to hear.

MM: That could be the one cheering factor.
BS: That's the salve on that wound. By the way, Steve Poltz? That guy is a super-genius, by the way. He was on tour with us, and he's one of the most interesting dudes I've ever met in my life.

MM: I haven't met him, yet.
BS: He's like the nicest guy you'll ever meet. Genuinely nice, genuinely cares about people, genuinely angry, genuinely pure and no-bullsh*t artist. I can't say enough good things about that guy. He's the real deal as well. He'll be doing what he's doing when he's 80.

MM: That's the goal, that's the dream, I guess. Where do you see yourself when you're 80?
BS: I don't know. I have no idea. As long as I'm writing stuff. A few years ago I used to play in these funk bands and stuff like that and there was no way that I wanted to play in a funk band when I'm 50. I wouldn't want to do what the Rolling Stones do at their age or Aerosmith just because it doesn't look good to me at all. But the idea of doing what Tom Waits does or Merle Haggard does or John Lee Hooker did when they're their age, now that looks good to me. The Grateful Dead, that looked good. I just feel like the music I'm playing now, and what I'm doing now I'll be able to do when I get old. if I want to. The option will be there. But it'll mainly be. I just saw Sting, and Sting's got to be 50, and that was a great show too, because he's still making music that people like, still seems to matter to a bunch of people. So if I'm still writing songs that matter to me and people are still digging it then I'll be doing it my whole life. I always told myself that I'd never be in a cover band, so if it got to the point where people would only want to come and see me play because of songs I'd written 20 years ago, I would never do that. That's not what I want to do with my life. I like making art, so if I'm still doing that with music then I'll still be playing. But being a performing monkey doesn't sound good to me at all. Not that those guys are performing monkeys by any stretch of the imagination...

MM: I'm sure if you asked them when they were 22 'what are you going to be doing when you're 50?' they would never have said that they would be playing the old hits.
BS: I just saw... who's the lead singer from Aerosmith?

MM: Steven Tyler
BS: Steve Tyler on something that I'd say I don't watch but just happened to be on while I was walking through a room -- 'Oh there's Steve Tyler' -- and he was saying you have to have a sense of humor if you're still around after your expiration date. I just thought, you know, that dude's a cool dude and he's got it going on. But again, that's not necessarily what I hope to do or want to do, but you know, it's different strokes. Definitely doesn't make me right or them wrong at all. That's the wonderful thing about life, that you get to choose whatever you want to do and you get to do that, every day. Maybe people forget that or something.

MM: A lot of people forget that, they think that they're locked in their job or they have to get up and they don't see that they could try something else once in a while.
BS: Everybody needs to read that book that came out a couple years ago by the Brazilian dude, The Alchemist. It's a good book. It's a real short quick read. It's about forgetting what your dreams... you know, when you're a kid you have all these dreams but as you go through life you come up to all these roadblocks that stop you from pursuing your dreams, so you do something else. What happens is that eventually those roadblocks don't exist anymore because you're an adult and you have means and you have more options available to you but then you've forgotten about your dreams, and you end up doing something else and not doing what you really want to do. Its a kind of cool book actually. It was an international bestseller. I can't think of the author's name I'm so bad with names.

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SOURCE: The Orange County Register
DATE: September 5, 2001
AUTHOR: Ben Wener
TITLE: Bob Schneider wants to break out of Austin, but not with gossip

There is something every self-respecting celebrity watcher would deem worthy to know about Bob Schneider. Only, if you haven't heard already, I'm not about to tell you what it is. Rev up your favorite search engine and I bet you can name that factoid in five clicks -- maybe less.

Before you gossip-mongers start frothing at the mouth, relax. It's nothing juicy. Far as anyone should care, it's a very good thing.

My reasons for not regurgitating it are simple: It's really not that fascinating; save for maybe a bit of inspiration, it has nothing to do with Schneider's music (actually, I find it clogs ears before they hear anything); and, as I gathered from his why-bother demeanor at the outset of our interview, the mere thought that he might have to speak about it yet again seems to drive the guy nuts.

Can't say I blame him.

So instead we talk about what matters: Lonelyland, the major-label debut from the singer-songwriter (a term that makes him groan) who is more of a fixture in Austin than even Joe Ely. The album has been the toast of the town out there since it was released on an independent label more than a year ago -- so ballyhooed that it recently helped Schneider nab 10 Austin Music Awards.

It's a hugely enjoyable disc, partly because it rarely settles in the same place twice. After a lovely opener (the genteel Metal and Steel), it shifts from Tom Waitsian clatter (Jingy) to sassy funk (Bullets) to cheery Paul Simon pop (Round and Round) to Brazilian romance (Moon Song). And that's just the first half.

Schneider, who a few archivists might remember as a member of Joe Rockhead or the Ugly Americans, says such an eclectic approach is the only way to record.

"My favorite albums were always ones where you were never sure what you were gonna get. Like Queen records -- you had no idea where those guys were going from one song to the next. The Beatles were the same way.

"I just like anybody who throws surprises in there. I can't listen to music where it's the same song over and over again. I know record companies like to have things neatly compartmentalized so they can sell it to people, but you won't last unless you change."

Though Lonelyland, which came out on Universal Records in late March, hasn't scored any nationwide hits, Schneider nonetheless is being touted as a breakout hopeful -- which explains why he landed an opening slot on Stevie Nicks' tour, coming Saturday to the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater. Obviously Schneider would like to "get my music heard beyond Austin," but frankly he doesn't seem entirely sold on the idea that it will happen.

"I'm completely clueless when it comes to what people want or think, so I have no idea if what I do will ever be heard," he says.

"All I know is what I like. I want to see someone play stuff that's all over the place -- mellow and fast and strong and raunchy. That's how life is.

"Life isn't all beautiful songs or depressing songs. One minute it's (crappy), then it's nice, then it's goosebumps ... and the next minute you're knocked to the dirt. Music should be a reflection of that.

"If it isn't, then it probably isn't honest."

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Source:Austin Chronicle
Date:1998
Title:Sophisticated Boom Boom
Author:Andy Langer
(See the accompanying article on Bruce Hughes
here.)
Bob Schneider may front two of Austin's most popular bands, the Ugly Americans and the Scabs, but there have always been a lot of people in town that don't like him. To them, the 32-year-old singer is simply offensive: a drunken misogynist with a rock-star complex. "That perception is fine," replies Schneider. "I know there are a lot of people who think they know who I am because of the person I am onstage, or the person I used to be years ago, off-stage. And I have to admit, I've made a lot of mistakes and done a lot of things that I'm not necessarily proud of. I can't change that. The only way I can change that is to actually meet those people. And as I meet more and more of them, I do believe their perception of me changes."

Whereas the onstage/off-stage Bob Schneiders used to be interchangeable, they are now distinct personas. Onstage, he's the same as he ever was, having changed very little since the earliest days of Joe Rockhead, the local funk outfit he fronted and the band that gave way to Schneider's virtually identical current bands. He's never outgrown the cheap thrills of grabbing himself, offering long stage raps about anal sex, or encouraging the front row to undress. And then there are the songs: "Pussy Fever," "Big Butts & Blow Jobs," and "I Fucked Your Daughter in the Ass, Boy."

Off-stage, however, Schneider has become almost unrecognizable. He's been sober for more than three years and spent the better part of a year involved in a seriously monogamist relationship. Now, he's not only on time for shows, he goes straight home afterwards. Somehow, the guy known for having never met a mixed drink he couldn't slam or a University of Texas freshman he couldn't seduce now has no interest in either.

Not surprisingly, though, it's the former version of Schneider many locals are most familiar with. While Jimmie Vaughan and Storyville may occasionally draw larger crowds, nobody of late has filled Austin clubs as consistently as the Scabs. Nearly 800 people attend the Scabs' weekly Tuesday night gig at Antone's, and after a brief drop-off, the Ugly Americans (man-for-man the same band as the Scabs) are back to drawing similarly well on weekends. Not likely to raise any eyebrows, either, is that fact that both groups have new albums out; the Ugly Americans sophomore release for Capricorn Records, Boom Boom Baby, and the Scabs' self-released debut, Freebird.

The real surprise? That anyone cares. In lieu of any real re-invention and in spite of all the local competition and a general lack of national interest in his bands, Schneider is, for the third time this decade, fronting what is arguably this town's most popular live act - make that most popular live acts. Why Schneider? Why so long?

The easiest explanation is that Austin is a town with many musicians, but only a handful of rock stars. Real rock stars not only hold your attention over the course of a show, they make you want to come back again and again. As with Joe Rockhead at the Black Cat, or the Ugly Americans at Steamboat, Schneider and the Scabs have forged a fanbase that's willing to come out as many as three times a week to see the band.

"When you don't have a song on radio or MTV," explains Schneider, "there's only so many people that are going to come out just to hear songs. So when you're playing week in and week out, you have to offer something more. In all these bands, we've tried to make sure that if you missed a week, you missed something. We want to make sure that for every time we play, we do something that we've never done and may never do again."

Whatever the similarities between Joe Rockhead and the Ugly Americans and Scabs, one thing is certain: All three of Schneider's bands have been as much about local scenes as the music itself. Joe Rockhead's scene, the Black Cat, 1991-92, is in essence no different than current day Antone's, where the Scabs rule the roost. Critics may charge that the Scabs/Ugly Americans crowds are largely underage and perhaps musically unsophisticated, but Schneider says that's not the point. In fact, he believes the musicianship or songs may not be the point either.

"I think the simple reason we do as well as we do every Tuesday is because we provide people a place where they can go and dance," says Schneider. "That's the bottom line."

It's a bottom line Schneider says he came face to face with last year when the Ugly Americans toured with Leftover Salmon, a Colorado-based hippie-jam band. Night after night, says Schneider, Leftover Salmon's crowd greeted his group with "confusion, contempt, and hatred," even though both bands ply similar sounds, the Ugly Americans a rock & roll-based groove, and Leftover Salmon a bluegrass-grounded groove. Schneider says he simply couldn't understand the reception the Ugly Americans were getting.

"Just over two weeks into the tour, I went into the crowd to try and do the crazy hippie dance," says Schneider, "to try and understand what the fuck it was all about. And I felt really out of place in this sea of patchouli oil and sweat. But nobody was looking at me; they were all doing their own thing. So, I did the dance and flailed around even more on the next song. That's when I got it. I came to this place where I lost all of my self-consciousness and just danced. It was cathartic. After that second song, I hoped [Leftover Salmon] played another song like that. If they'd busted into a ballad, I wouldn't have been able to do that hippie dance again. But the next song, and the songs after that, and so on, were the exact same thing."

At the end of the tour, Schneider returned to Austin with a new plan: Weed out anything from the Scabs' and Ugly Americans' set that wasn't danceable. Already, both bands included the identical core six members, but whereas the Scabs were an outlet for the funk, Latin, and soul songs with horns, the Ugly Americans were reserved for rock, pop, and ballads. Under Schneider's new scheme, both bands began to play each other's material, further blurring lines between them.

"The Leftover Salmon experience made a big impact on me and later in our crowds," says Schneider. "We got rid of the slower art/drama pieces and the stuff that was a straight joke you couldn't dance to. And because the whole set is now fast-paced dance material, people come and dance the whole night. You can hear the songs on the CDs if you want, but with this, it's about people participating.

"Now, I look back and I realize that's also why Joe Rockhead had so much success. At that time, we were providing the same high-paced outlet."

While it may sound clichéd, or like part of a story on tennis prodigies, Bob Schneider was a song and dance man almost from birth. Born in Michigan, but raised in Germany where his father, an opera singer, moved the family when he was 2, Schneider and his sister were exposed to the nightlife early on.

"My parents partied a ton," says Schneider. "They'd come in late and knock on the bedroom door asking my sister and I to sing for the guests. We'd go downstairs to a roomful of drunk friends, and with sleepy eyes we'd sing, `Row, row, row your boat.' And the drunks went crazy, loved us. That's pretty much been the pattern my whole life. By the time I was 10 and she was 9, my sister would tell them, `Go fuck yourself, I'm sleeping.' But I'd go down, because I still enjoyed it. It made me happy to go down and perform."

Spending third through eighth grade in El Paso, Schneider and his family then returned to Germany just in time for him to attend high school there.

"All that moving was very traumatic. It fucked me up bad," says Schneider, who tells a Howard Stern-like story of daily beatings at the hands of El Paso bullies. "If I'd have just stayed in Germany, I'd be an accountant now - something not so deep in dysfunctionality."

In Germany, Schneider spent his senior year jamming with drummer Jeff Linderman, now an Austinite, with whom Schneider got his first taste of rock stardom after the pair, as Bitter Lemon, played in the high school talent show.

"All these chicks got out of their seats and ran towards the stage screaming my name," remembers Schneider. "I couldn't believe it. You have to picture me: 5'4", the youngest guy in my class, and no friends. The only people I hung out with were teachers. I was hunted by bullies and just generally hated. No chicks would talk to me and now they're going crazy. After that, I was the hero of the school, actually suspended for the naughty lyrics we sang that night. The seed was planted."

Nonetheless, Schneider was determined not to follow in his father's footsteps and chase music. Instead, he enrolled in a German branch of the University of Maryland's art school. Although he would later apply his graphic arts skills to many Joe Rockhead, Scabs, and Ugly Americans posters, T-shirts, and album covers (as well as freelance artwork for the Chronicle), Schneider dropped out of art school after returning to America for his junior year at the University of Texas in El Paso.

"A sculptor came in and gave a lecture my last semester there," recounts Schneider. "It was a guy named Terry Allen, little did I know. He walked in with a leather jacket and sunglasses, smoking a cigarette, and looking completely hung over. He said, `If you're going to do art, you need to drop out of school and fucking start doing art. Your degree is worthless.' It totally made sense to me. Plus, there were no chicks in art."

Schneider decided he could chase chicks and music in Austin. At the tail end of the Eighties, Brainiac, his first band, played the UT party circuit, while the Spanks played just one gig: a "Fresh Blood Night" at the Ritz for Chronicle music columnist Michael Corcoran. Before long, Schneider decided he really wanted to front Clang, a band with bassist Steve Bernal, guitarist Bruce Salmon, and drummer John Nelson. Unfortunately, another local, fast-talking extrovert got the gig: Wammo. When Wammo left Clang, Schneider got his chance, only to have Bernal quit for the Killer Bees and Nelson leave for his first tour with Poi Dog Pondering. Salmon eventually, and somewhat reluctantly, invited Schneider to jam with another band, Spunker, a group that ultimately became Joe Rockhead and eventually coerced Bernal back into the fold.

After a year and a half without much success, Joe Rockhead accepted an invitation to enter into a year-long residency at the Black Cat. About half-way through this commitment, the band began drawing respectable crowds of 300 or so, a number that soon doubled thanks to local word-of-mouth.

"We had 700 people a night, twice a week - Tuesdays and Fridays," says Schneider. "And when you put 700 people in a club with virtually no exit and no place to go, and you realize you're surrounded by crazy mobs of high-energy people, it gets scary. Eventually we decided it was just too scary."

The band toured regionally and set up shop at Steamboat, but their drawing power started thinning fairly quickly.

"Joe Rockhead at the Black Cat didn't take itself very seriously," explains Schneider. "It was a complete party, and when we moved out and played other places, the music got more serious; it got more heavy and rock-oriented, with tempos you couldn't necessarily dance to. It got too far away from what made us popular."

Even though all three of Joe Rockhead's self-released discs made better live souvenirs than albums, major labels like Ruffhouse and Island Records saw national potential. After a long courting process that ended with Island deciding to sign Dallas' Tripping Daisy instead of Joe Rockhead, the band decided it had had enough.

"We were heartbroken," says Schneider. "We'd been at it four and a half years, and some of the guys in the band were at a crossroads and wanted to do some other things in their life that didn't involve music. And why bust their ass doing this without a payoff?

"Plus, I was out of control and thoroughly convinced that the reason [Joe Rockhead] was doing so well was because of me. At every turn I was, `Fuck you guys' and they were, `Fuck you, too.' We just weren't getting along."

Although he didn't realize it at the time, Schneider had committed one of showbiz's cardinal sins: believing his own press.

"Deep down, every musician thinks of themselves as rock stars," admits Schneider. "When they go to bed at night, they think, `I'm a rock star.' It takes that kind of mentality to get up in front of people and play some stupid song you wrote. If you didn't think that way, you couldn't do it. And that's why you have so many conflicts within groups, because everybody is the rock star. And when you're the lead singer, and maybe writing songs as well, you're getting all the attention. It's easy to believe you're the reason it's happening. But as you get older, you realize you're just one-fifth or one-eighth."

During the last six months he fronted Joe Rockhead, Schneider had also been playing with the Ugly Americans, a group he saw as a side project. Luckily, everyone else in the group saw it the same way; co-frontman Bruce Hughes was playing with David Lowery's Cracker, while bassist and founder Sean McCarthy was still employed as one of Mojo Nixon's Toadliquors. Meanwhile, drummer Dave Robinson, guitarist Scappy Jud Newcomb, and organ player Corey Mauser were all committed to the Loose Diamonds. With Rockhead dead and Schneider admittedly devastated, he agreed to focus on the Ugly Americans, because it was available and had begun to pay decently.

"It was an easy gig, because I always considered myself the weak link," says the singer. "These were great musicians, so I could practice a little or just show up at the gigs and wing it. And once Rockhead was over and I put a lot of energy into it for a few months, we kind of settled into a groove and I backed off. For a couple of years after that initial push, we didn't change much. We were still writing a song or two a month, but there was nothing more depressing than being three years old and playing virtually the same exact set from a year before."

Perhaps the only thing more frustrating was the band's experience making their first major-label album. By mid-1993, with guitarist Max Evans having replaced Newcomb, the band had finally solidified into a full-time project. Local crowds ebbed and flowed, but overall, the group's draw was enough to support regional touring, ultimately landing them a large theatre tour with Dave Matthews, a stint on H.O.R.D.E., and a recording contract with Irving Azoff's Giant Records. By the time the Ugly Americans got to Los Angeles to record with Don Gehman, who was coming off his multi-platinum success with Hootie & The Blowfish, Schneider was more obnoxious, drunk, and generally destructive than ever before.

"I had no friends, no transportation, and no rock stardom," says Schneider of his time in L.A. "Everyone there is a rock star, movie star, or producer. I'd go out to a bar and say, `I'm out here making an album,' and they'd say, `Who gives a fuck? I'm out here making my dreams come true, too, and I don't know who you are.' Everybody was as self-absorbed as I was, and because they reminded me of myself so much, I hated it. It should have been my career high point, but I was not in a good place in my personal life. It was definitely time for a little change."

After the album was completed, the Ugly Americans returned to Austin without Schneider, who instead took a detour to Colorado, where he checked into a rehabilitation facility. While there, he learned there was no need in rushing back home, because a shake-up at Giant ultimately led to a year-long delay and the Ugly Americans' eventual dismissal from the label. By July of 1996, Capricorn had picked up the band and released the album to relatively little fanfare. Despite several tours and some serious AAA radio play, the album was essentially dead on arrival. Not that Schneider was that bothered by the situation; he had already moved onto another side project, the Scabs, a collaboration with guitarist Adam Temple, whose premise was simple: "Wear suits and sing about pussy."

"Everything I've wanted to do musically, I've been able to do in the Scabs," states Schneider. "A few years ago, when the Scabs started, there were some really serious ballads the Ugly Americans didn't want to do. I'd bring in a tender or touching song and they'd laugh at me. But with the Scabs, I could make them play it and put it right next to, `I Fucked Your Daughter in the Ass, Boy.' If it had been all joke songs all night long, I'd have admitted it was a novelty band.

"But we didn't know what was coming next, so how could the audience? It could have been a crazy fuck-me song followed by a Simon & Garfunkel thing. The more I did the Scabs, the more I realized this was something I was proud of. The Ugly Americans is and was a really good band; it just wasn't something I liked."

In late 1996, Schneider says he began turning the Ugly Americans into something he liked: a slightly safer version of the Scabs. Neither McCarthy nor Evans were impressed by Schneider's new vision and eventually opted out. Hughes, a bassist by trade, replaced McCarthy, while the Scabs' guitarists, Temple and Charles Reiser, stepped in for Evans. When Ugly Americans keyboardist David Boyle and Hughes agreed to join the Scabs as well, the morphing together of both bands was complete.

Although Schneider maintains that he wanted to merge both bands under one moniker - the Scabs - in time for the Ugly Americans' second album for Capricorn, he lost that battle. Nevertheless, despite the new album's title track and the skeletons of some genuinely great songs like "The Wrong Direction" and "Orlando," Boom Boom Baby often sounds like two bands competing for attention. Schneider disagrees.

"We know we're going to be slammed by critics," acknowledges Schneider. "The record is about sex, the groove, and dancing. There's no angst or philosophical introspection that will open minds up. It's about sex, the whole record."

Schneider is more adamant in his assessment that what may have started as a joke has grown into something more. Isn't "Pussy Fever" evidence to the contrary?

"I say the words `fuck' and `pussy' a ton when I'm speaking," says Schneider. "I'm not the most eloquent of speakers or writers, and I've never claimed to be the most clever or intelligent guy around. I can't sit down and say this is going to be an alternative rock song about the feeling you get when you first realize you've lost your innocence or some other bullshit. `Pussy Fever' comes more naturally."

Seeing as "Pussy Fever" has wound up as a surprisingly lively piece of songwriting, both on the Scabs' live debut, Freebird, and in both bands' sets, whatever comes naturally to Schneider would seem to be the key to both groups' success. Better still, a summer of national touring for the Ugly Americans may ensure that both bands don't burn out the local populace. Not that a lot of people in this town probably still don't like Bob Schneider.

"I think at this point, we get the respect from anybody that sees us live," says Schneider. "The fact of the matter is that all these guys onstage are really talented musicians. I don't care if you're a music critic, musician, just don't like this kind of music, or don't dance; if you see the Ugly Americans/Scabs play live, you'll walk away from the experience saying, `That's a great fucking band.' You might say, `I don't like the guys in the band or what they're talking about,' but you'll have to admit we're good at what we do.

"And I also love the fact that some people are simply going to hate us. I love watching people leave the shows angry, upset, or offended by what they've seen or heard. Then I know I'm doing something right. And I know for every one of those people that are offended or upset, there are 10 people with huge smiles on their faces, laughing, dancing, and having a good time.

"I`m glad we're not politically correct. Hootie & the Blowfish sold 22 million records not because the music was so good, but because they didn't offend anybody. We're not going to have that kind of success, because there are a huge number of fundamental right-wing people who will always hate us. But as long as we continue to grow as musicians and performers, it's going to be exciting to get onstage with the guys every night and play the music we play. At this point in my life, it's all good."

Thanks to Brian for this article!


Find a streaming video interview with Bob & a performance of "2002" at CollegeMusic.com.


Find an interview with Bob on iVillage.


Find a new interview with Bob on HipOnline.
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August 23, 2001 - The Arizona Republic (The Rep Supplement)

Arizona Republic

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Citysearch Online: SXSW

By Tara Hall

He's an Austin enigma, a musical chameleon. The vocal genius behind not one or two but four distinctive bands, Bob Schneider walked away with seven Austin Music Awards and eight other mentions at last year's gathering. But before the accolades came the labor. Consider his yearlong stint at the Black Cat with Joe Rockhead, his time at Steamboat with the Ugly Americans—and don't forget the Scabs' Tuesday night party at Antone's, for which there were lines around the club. His present-day act showcases him as the introspective singer-songwriter fronting Lonelyland, also billed as the Bob Schneider Show. Regardless of his personality du jour, whether it's dirty funk or intimate feeling, it's obvious that people like him-including Universal, which recently added him to its list of artists.

What CDs define this time in your life?
Pedro the Lion, Randy Newman, OutKast, Ricki Lee Jones, Dr. Dre 9, Elliott Smith. Anything by these artists.

What inspires you to write songs?
The world around me. I just get real still and write whatever comes to mind down. It's pretty simple.

There seem to be two separate Bob Schneiders—the uninhibited, outspoken lead singer of the Scabs and the contemplative leader of Lonelyland. Which one is more like the everyday Bob?
It depends on how well you know me. The demure, soft-spoken one is the one you'll get if I don't know you well. If I know you well, you could get anything and everything.
Where do you see yourself in five years?
Writing, recording, suffering and smiling.
Who do you look forward to seeing at South by Southwest?
The Good Witch of the West.

You spent a lot of time shopping around for the right record label. How does it feel to have Universal accept your album "Lonelyland" as is?
I feel that they really connected with what is special about the album and didn't want to mess with that magic.

You've explored a variety of musical styles with Joe Rockhead, Ugly Americans, the Scabs and Lonelyland. How do you explain Lonelyland's success in comparison to the others?
I feel that this album really stands up as an entity unto itself, where the other projects were more about what was happening in the live show environment. This doesn't take away from the other albums, either; it's just a different approach.

You have a busy schedule playing with Lonelyland, the Bob Schneider Show and the Scabs. What do you consider the best part of being a notable musician?
People tend to come out to see you play if they know who you are. It sucks when you are the only one in the house when it comes time to play.
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August 3, 2001 - The Dallas Morning News
Flying solo
By ROB CLARK

Bob Schneider has turned plenty of heads with Lonelyland. It's his first solo album, an impressive collection of introspective and thoughtful tracks. And frankly, that wasn't expected from the frontman of bands the Ugly Americans and the Scabs. The reputation was for raunchy funk and bawdy party tracks, not for smooth harmonies and mellow maturity.

"I've always toyed with the idea of doing a solo project," the Austin singer-songwriter says. "I've always written the type of songs on Lonelyland. But in the Ugly Americans and the Scabs ... quieter songs didn't fit those formats. It wasn't necessarily about the band, it was more about the songs." But those songs have opened his music up to a whole new audience. Lonelyland, released independently in Austin last year and nationally in March by Universal, is remarkably diverse. There's the dreamy beauty of "Big Blue Sea" and the easy pace of "Round & Round," which throws in an operatic loop for the chorus. It's jarring at first, but seamless soon after. And he's funny. He wrote "Tokyo," the gloomy rant about isolation, the night after a party where "no girls would give me any play" and he "felt like a ... [expletive] leper."

Such self-deprecating comments are standard for Mr. Schneider, who seems completely taken aback by the interest in Lonelyland. (It has sold more than 13,000 copies just at Waterloo Records in Austin.) He swept the Austin Music Awards two years in a row and earned widespread acclaim upon the album's national release. And now he's opening for Stevie Nicks on a tour that stops at Smirnoff Music Centre on Friday. "I'm always a little suspect with that kind of attention and that kind of excitement, to tell you the truth," he says. "Believe me, I was tickled pink that I received all those awards and that people were excited about the record. At the same time, you can't take that kind of stuff too seriously. You start to think you know what you're doing, and I don't. I have no clue. I'm still amazed I make a living doing what I do."

The spotlight has inevitably glared into Mr. Schneider's private life. He's dating actress Sandra Bullock, as has been widely (and at times, overly) reported.

"Well, I never know what to say," Mr. Schneider admits about the media attention.

"My concern is people could write me off. The only thing they hear is that 'he's dating a celebrity.' I can't stop people from thinking that. But it worries me, for sure.

"It doesn't indicate whether I'm a good musician and whether the songs are good and whether I'm a good entertainer. That's my only concern."

Despite that combination – an acclaimed record and a high-profile relationship – Mr. Schneider remains grounded. He's open about his own awkwardness, which he explores in "Tokyo" and the wistful "2002."

"I've always been uncomfortable," he says, "especially in groups and with people I don't know. ... There are all these rules: Who you're supposed to be and what you're supposed to say. It's hard to keep track of all that. It kind of shuts me down."

Onstage, it's a different story. He's built a reputation as a charismatic live act, both as a solo artist and with the Scabs (the band still plays an occasional gig). Entertaining the crowd has never been a problem.

"It's complete freedom and where I feel most comfortable," he says. "I love that feeling, being able to do or say anything."

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