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The Tyrades

Chicago punkers on having fun, dancing like a primate and looking stupid for Intonation.

Tuesday Jun 20, 2006.     By Gavin Paul

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The Tyrades might not think they rock the true punk ethos: "The band's a joke. We suck. We're not a good band...it doesn't matter; it's a farce."

Guitarist Jimmy "Hollywood" McCann claims he can't spout one lyric from their entire catalogue; venomous singer/lyricist Jenna "Tyrade" spits them pretty foamy (think the Yeah Yeah Yeahs' Karen O with rabies). Robert "Miscellaneous" McAdams didn't even pick up a bass until the group fused together five short years ago. They buy guitars because "they look cool," not because they "sound good." Drummer Frankie "Dynamite" Jenson replaces an old psych ward patient.

What's not punk? Maybe it's their 15-minute Japanese-hardcore-inspired, spastic, snot-dripping sets. Maybe it's the fact that they stopped using pseudonyms like "Dynamite" and "Miscellaneous" the day they left their hometown of Buffalo, NY and came to Chicago. Or maybe it's because they really just don't give a damn: "Have fun. Dance around. Look stupid," they say.

Whatever it is, the blue-collar kids of the streets take to it like a newfound drug, hosting the band in all sorts of DIY ways. Teens in the Southside Hispanic neighborhood of Pilsen adopted them as an impromptu garage-party act. They played a dangerously packed tent-show at SXSW back in '05, where even good friends were denied entrance. And their proudest venture came when some Austin underground-hardcore promoter reeled 'em in to plug-in and play a midnight show for 150 punkees, strictly word-of-mouth, on a pedestrian bridge the size of Western Avenue, that oddly enough had an outlet on it. "We only played three songs, but it was amazing. Some of these kids, they knew the words and could sing along," says Jimmy.

The Tyrades got their name from the word "tirade," emulatating '70s punk heroes like The Replacements and The Descendants but switching the spelling because "the 'y' makes it look Japanese."

Their shows, pulsating with energy and fury, give definition to the tirade: "We play as hard as we can. What gives me the right not to? Your life sucks so much and there's so much bullshit you have to deal with. This is pure fun, the only time it's socially acceptable to act like a complete savage, like a primate for 15 minutes and just get everything out," says Rob.

This appeals to their fans. One kid even told the band he quit his job after a repeated spin of "Cubicle", their rant on 9-5 working society. They were shocked. "I was like, 'Well, listen, I'm going to write a new song tomorrow called, 'Get you're fucking job back,'" says Jim. "Don't blame me."

As much as they bash themselves, everything's in place for the band to be super successful. They're simple people—a carpenter, a bartender, a skateboard distributor and a fashion student—doing raw things for underground punk in the vein of what Fight Club did for passive/aggressiveness.

While in Buffalo, dubbing themselves the city's "First and Only Punk Band," The Tyrades figured out how to network. Along with connections from Jim's old band, The Baseball Furies, the Tyrades had it easy coming to Chicago as a fresh act, knowing several owners of small but bustling labels who eagerly requested singles (see labels like Big Neck, Broken Rekids, Shit Sandwich, Holy Cobra Society, Rip Off and Smart Guy). Buffalo also helped them score the famed producer Jim Diamond (White Stripes) who's turned Jenna's spitfire vocals and the bands angular guitars into throat-cutting punk rock.

Insignificant bands don't score the Metro either, where they opened for British indie-rockers Art Brut, nor do they get slots at prominent indie fests, as they did for Intonation Music Festival (June 23-24). When asked about the bill they humbly replied, "I still feel it's some sort of weird inside joke. You know like, 'Have these fucking losers start the show. Let's all laugh at these guys.' It's like Carrie at the prom or something."

In the beginning:
Rob: Our first show was at Mutiny. It kind of set the tone for how we are now in Chicago. I mean, the whole ceiling got ripped out, I was bleeding at the end of it and everyone dance around. It was an amazing time.

After a gig we:
Rob: Either throw-up, or try and figure out how not to throw-up. And, if you can drink beer within the next fifteen minutes without throwing up.

What's cool in your neck of the woods:
Jim: I like the Target. That's kind of nice; it's close.
Rob: I like Logan Square. A lot of things are coming up. Like, down on the Square itself. There's a new Belgian bar that's going to open up. And, it's got of lot of trees.

Here I am-rock you like a:
Jim: Retarded monkey.
Rob: Retarded monkey will work for me.

On a Sunday afternoon, you'll find us:
Rob: In bed nursing some kind of hangover.
Jim: You can find Robert making fun of me.
Rob: Throwing aspirin at his head. And cuddling with him.
Jim: We cuddle.
Rob: Jenna would be working and Frank would be sleeping.

I get live at:
Rob: Empty Bottle; it's our favorite place to hang out and see shows.

Most surreal CTA moment:
Rob: Is that the public transportation? Oh, that's for peasants and I don't take that.
Jim: Yeah. I have a car.

Fresh from the woodshop:
Jim: A split, a Spanish single on Holy Cobra Society. And we're writing and recording a new LP that should be out by the end of the year.

Coming soon to a stage near you:
Rob: Intonation (June 23-24). But, nothing planned after that...yet.