THE MUMMIES UNWRAPPED

THE MUMMIES UNWRAPPED

Just don't call it a reunion

Tim Abbondelo

A Master Class on Budget Rock™ is long overdue and would benefit every band out there. The central figures of that seminar would surely be the Mummies, with lessons covering how to spawn your own rock subgenre, “acquire” cheap vintage gear without getting caught, buck industry trends like releasing new music on the most current and popular formats and platforms, and touring—all that without showing your face in public EVER, even four decades in.

That’s exactly how the Mummies created their own world. A world where a band, bandaged from head to toe, driving around in a 1963 Pontiac Bonneville ambulance, taught hipster doofuses-of-the-day songs by the Wallers, Devo, and the Beatles. A world where an invite to Sub Pop’s Singles Club spurred the band’s own record spoofing the series, accompanied by their rejection letter to the label, signed: “So Fuck Off. The Mummies.”

By the time I got into the Mummies as a teenager, I’d missed their brief reign over the late-’80s and early-’90s rock ’n’ roll underground. Their legacy remains peerless, though, thanks to recordings so raw and bombastic they escape the earmarks of any specific era in music. Similarly, future archaeologists will struggle to date the Mummies’ records, the cover art of which depicts black-and-white antic scenes of the four mummies in question, wailing on thrift-store instruments and mugging for the camera in Converse.

Rules aren’t punk, but the Mummies are. As the CD market faded and prices for vinyl soared, the Mummies rethought their “Fuck CDs” credo and embraced the shiny little platters. It’s this kind of economical logic and independent thinking that drives the band and has gotten them so far. Hence, when the Mummies wanted to start performing live again, they did, and do—just don’t call it a reunion. In recent years, the Mummies have flung far, playing: Australia, Brazil, Japan, Spain, and throughout Europe.

I finally got to see them play in the late aughts at Maxwell’s, in New Jersey. Afterward, I wore my Mummies T-shirt for a month straight (again, punk). But if there’s a blessing AND a curse of the Mummies, it’s that they always get the last laugh, and the joke is probably on YOU. It wasn’t until throwing that coveted T-shirt in the laundry that I realized why I’d been on the receiving end of attacks at the feet of strangers, simply following the instructions printed on the back: Kick Me.

Now, with a Mummies MOVIE forthcoming, it seemed high time to get in touch with this band, long expired, that won’t retire.

I was relieved when the Mummies agreed to meet up at “a bar or pizza joint,” and not a sarcophagus. But after pricing out airfare and accommodations in the Bay Area, where the band is based, I was the one priced out. As much as I could stand to learn a thing or two about our 31st state (demonstrated below), not breaking the bank to cover the Kings of Budget Rock™ felt right. So we met over a rare videoconferencing prototype, only available as a prize in vintage boxes of Corn Flakes. And yes, from what I could see, they were wrapped.

Who are you and what do you do in the Mummies, on stage and off?

Russell: I’m Russell. I play the fool on and off. Trent: Trent. Singer. When we’re not playing, I'm trying real hard to give a damn. About anything. Maz: The name is Maz and I try to play the electric bass guitar. When not on the stage I’m either eating, sleeping, or junk shopping. Wait a minute...where the fuck did Larry go?

Trent: I think he had to go to the can.

Maz: Well, Larry plays the guitar. [Whispers] He’s pretty good at it too.

Larry (yelling from the bathroom): Fuckin’-A right I am!

Not unlike a certain publication, the Mummies came back after an extended dormancy. Why bother?

Trent: I ask myself that every time I’m walking out on stage.

Russell: We’re just late, we weren’t done having fun, we thought this place is for fun.

Maz: Russell’s right. We’re not ready to grow up. There’s still a lot of fun to be had in this life. And there are a few things that us Mummies can agree on—like that eating and traveling make us happy, for example. So when random people around the globe started bugging us to play, it was hard to refuse. Trent: Come on, Larry, quit fuckin’ around. Shit or get off the pot!

Beyond a Facebook group with 5.8K members and counting, what is Budget Rock™? How did the Mummies ascend to its throne as the rightful kings?

Trent: We didn’t want to get lumped into a generic "punk” or “garage rock” bucket, so we came up with Budget Rock in the late ’80s as our own genre of one, to reflect our skinflint approach to making music. Naturally, it later got appropriated by a bunch of people who can’t come up with their own stupid ideas.

Russell: Maz made [the Facebook group], so he wears the crown.

Maz: I think it’s more of a dunce cap. For me, Budget Rock was more of a lame way to describe our lifestyle. We like old stuff and the way things used to be. We were always digging around thrift stores and antique shops. We would find the most oddball stuff and be thoroughly inspired by it. It wasn’t that we decided to start a ’60s-style garage rock band and then went looking for cheap old guitars and drums. We sorta found the old guitars and stuff FIRST and then it became obvious what to do with it all. Cool old shit was everywhere. As far as being the kings? We were there first, I guess. Too bad it wasn’t profitable. We packed a lot of creative ideas in the short time we were around back in the day. We were doing it to entertain ourselves, for sure, but in the end other bands just came across as fucking bores by comparison. We also had two things going for us that other bands don’t have: One is that Trent can write a decent, catchy song every once in a while, and the other is RUSSELL QUAN.

Trent: Yeah, if we had found a bunch of BC Rich guitars and Tama drums, things would have turned out differently for us. Probably would’ve made CREEM a lot earlier, too.

“fl BAMD DOESN’T HAVE TO PLAY mUSiG YOU CAM BE MORE SUCCESSFUL AS A CRIMINAL START A BAND OF PICKPOCKETS, MAYBE.

Russell: Hey, Larry! How about a courtesy flush? It’s starting to stink over here.

The Minutemen gave the world Jam Econo from their hometown of San Pedro; a few years later, the Mummies reigned over their Budget Rock Kingdom from San Mateo. What’s with these fiscally shrewd rock ’n’ roll movements coming out of the Sunshine State?

Russell: The only movement is from our bowels to you.

Larry (from behind the bathroom door): Are you talking to me?!

Trent: First off, California is not the Sunshine State, that’s Florida. We got enough problems as it is without being mistaken for coming from Florida. Anyway, it just shows how people can approach DIY and keeping things low-cost differently.

Maz (adjusting his tie): I don’t know how the Minutemen got their name, but if you asked the ladies around here at the time, they would tell you that the Mummies were Three-Minute Men.

Trent: He’s like a Chesterfield.

Any advice for new bands starting out in this economy?

Russell: Don’t learn to play anything. Form groups, play “shows,” go on tour, clog bins and landfill with cutout records, do everything wrong.

Trent: No one should take advice from me, but if I were starting a band now, I would just do what I want, the way I want to, for my own jollies.

Maz: A band doesn’t have to play music. You can be more successful as a criminal. Start a band of pickpockets, maybe. Gather your friends and play videogames together. You could go fishing as a group, too. Please, just SPARE US.

Trent: And if Sub Pop comes knockin’, tell them to fuck off.

The Mummies feature prominently in Estrus Records’ bountiful coffee-table book Estrus: Shovlin’ the Shit Since ’87. How important was that label in launching and sustaining the band?

Russell: Dave Crider has been very kind to us. He’s broke now as a result, but at least he got rid of the ambulance.

Trent: Estrus didn’t launch the band. We actually met Dave Crider after the tapes for our first [self-released] single had already been sent to the pressing plant. Estrus and Crider have been good to us, and I’m glad to be part of their story. They were more important than most of the other labels that put our stuff out, but we were just an anomaly in their catalog, like the Teemates on the Audio Fidelity label.

Maz: Speaking of shovlin’ the shit, [ye//ing toward the bathroom] what the hell is wrong with Larry? Larry: Don’t worry about it!

You’ve gotten a lot of mileage since Never Been Caught, your sole studio album from ’92—playing shows all over the world and inadvertently inspiring a funk-band knockoff. Would you ever record again?

Trent: We still record all the time. We might get around to releasing some of it, but we need to focus on finishing this stupid movie we’re working on first. Maz: The hardest part about recording is finding a place to do it. If we could, we’d rent a small warehouse somewhere, set up our stuff, and just leave it set up for rehearsing and recording. We’d be on the 10th album by now. We can’t do that, though, because rents around here are outrageous. So we have to search for a spot every time we want to record and then set up and break down again and haul the shit all over town. I’m over it.

Trent: People should really be THANKING us for not putting out 10 albums of horseshit.

Larry: Hey, the reverb in this bathroom sounds pretty good! Huge...

What are the real Mummies driving nowadays? Would you ever go hybrid or full-on electric? Trent: I’d never own a cool old car again. Fuck that shit, I’m not 23 in the 1990s anymore. I need my car to work, and I don’t want to work on my fucking car. Plus, I live in California where gas costs more than $5 a gallon, so anything that gets me around cheaper with less hassle is the goal.

Russell: The car we’d like to drive is a blown fuelinjected top fueled, but the only one we can afford is a 1/24 scale plastic model kit.

Maz: My trusty 2010 Honda Element is starting to fall apart. When it finally dies, I'll be out there looking for another one. If it’ll make your rock ’n’ roll readers happy, I’ll paint some flames on the side. If gasoline

gets any more expensive, I’ll be at Vai’s asking for the old grease from the fryer.

Larry: Goddammit. Where the fuck’s the toilet paper?! Yo! Can I get an assist?

Trent: Larry drives a Mazda but enjoys working on VWs.

By my count, the Mummies joined the mainstream this year by making your discography available for streaming. Welcome! And thank you for enabling me to listen to Party at Steve’s in the lobby at my shrink’s office. Why the wait? And what’s your preferred format for music, a quarter into the 21st century?

Russell: Great to be in the garbage can of every home! Fave format is still the same, beats a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.

Trent: Thanks for the reminder. We didn’t actually authorize any of our music to be streamed online, so we need to follow up with those shit-asses to have it pulled down, and forgo the $0,001 we will make off you for streaming Party at Steve’s House from your doctor’s office again.

Maz: What a fuckin’ scam. Fortunately, I bought so many records in the ’80s that I still have some I haven’t listened to yet. The flea market crates are still coughing up the occasional neat-o record too. I only have 20 years to live if I’m lucky, so I don’t have to worry about formats.

The Mummies made a movie—not a question, because you did, and there’s a trailer to prove it! What can viewers expect from the flick? And when?

Trent: Imagine the back cover of Never Been Caught moving.

Russell: The film is available on Betamax but since has been erased to preserve reruns of Seinfeld, My Mother the Car, and It’s About Time.

Maz: It’s like a cross between Night of the Living Dead and The Monkees. It has a cast of thousands, but a budget of hundreds.

Larry: Okay, let’s get this thing started! Did I miss anything?

Maz: Before we end this, Russell has a request.

Russell: Please assign Mike Saunders to his previous writing duties on the CREEM staff. That’s where he belongs.

I’ll put in a good word. Viva la Metal Mike!