THE SUICIDE MACHINES

On March 27, The Suicide Machines broke 15 years of studio silence with the release of their seventh proper album, Revolution Spring, on Fat Wreck Chords. It’s been one of the most highly anticipated punk records of the last couple of years. It also comes at the perfect time, as the third wave of ska is experiencing a significant resurgence. While it’s taken nearly three decades, the Detroit quartet is finally in a good place.

Jack Kevorkian and the Suicide Machines were formed by a bunch of teenage, Motor City misfits way back in 1991. They combined their love of punk and hardcore with the more uplifting sounds of ska and reggae, and it resonated with people. After a couple of demos and a split LP, the band shortened their name and signed with a major label, Hollywood Records.

This period produced the fan favorites Destruction By Definition (1996) and Battle Hymns (1998). After a couple more, less enthusiastically received, albums, the band parted ways with Hollywood Records. The Suicide Machines then got angrier and more political, and made two more records, A Match and Some Gasoline (2003) and War Profiteering Is Killing Us All (2005), for indie punk label Side One Dummy. By 2006, the band was burned out and fed up with infighting, and called it quits. ing this music that’s interesting to me. Operation Ivy was showing me, and Bad Brains was showing me, that it could still be very punk. That was it. I didn’t know how I was going to do any of this stuff, but I was going to do it.”

“We played with Less Than Jake, Skankin’ Pickle, and Voodoo Glow Skulls. We’re playing with all these other bands that are doing something similar,” Navarro continues. “It was weird to see all these other bands come in from all these different parts of the country playing punk ska. There were other people that Operation Ivy and Fishbone had resonated with.”

The Suicide Machines once again tapped into those early influences when it came time to make Revolution Spring.

“If you need a reference point musically, the new record is kind of like Destruction, Battle Hymns, and A Match and Some Gasoline,” Navarro says. “Lyrically, it’s not like anything we’ve done before. The lyrics are 100 percent thought-out this time around, and I feel like the songwriting was more thought-out. We really worked on these songs.”

“We took our time,” he continues. “We just waited for the inspiration to hit. We were trying to put something in the world that lifts you up a little bit. There’s some anger on there for sure, but it’s not, like, finger-pointing anger.”

Singer and sole remaining founding member Jason Navarro put The Suicide Machines back together in 2009 for a benefit show. Things evolved naturally from there. Over the last decade, on a part-time basis, the band has reestablished itself on the national scene. Without the pressure of depending on The Suicide Machines to make a living, the band has thrived.

Like a lot of kids, Navarro initially got into punk through skateboarding. Before he became a frontman, he also cut his teeth playing bass in local punk, metal, and hardcore bands. He was already into bands like Bad Brains and Fishbone, but a second-hand cassette copy of Operation Ivy’s Energy, along with seeing another local band live, would end up having a profound effect on his musical trajectory.

“It was bleak and dark and scary in Detroit, and I went and saw Gangster Fun,” he recalls. “That was the first time I got to see a band actually play ska. That was the gateway opening up. Other people are playWhen it comes to ska, Navarro would rather look forward than back.

“There are so many good, new bands playing ska,” he says. “I would hate to see these bands not get any recognition. Hopefully, these newer bands don’t get lost in this nostalgia thing. People should really be paying attention to what this new wave of ska is.”

In 2020, The Suicide Machines have a wiser perspective. It’s one that’s not tied to the success of the band or the new record.

“We’re not going to make this band a job,” Navarro concludes. “Other things in my life are more important, like my kids, and skateboarding, and activism, and stuff like that.”

Revolution Spring is both a new beginning and a chance for The Suicide Machines to write their own happy ending. �� �� ��

INTERVIEWS WITH MUSTARD PLUG’S VOCALIST DAVID KIRCHGESSNER AND THE GADJITS’ DRUMMER ADAM PHILLIPS AND VOCALIST BRANDON PHILLIPS

The same year that The Suicide Machines were getting started in Detroit, Mustard Plug were forming 150 miles to the west in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and for many of the same reasons.

“I loved the energy, and culture, and immediacy, and politics of punk,” recalls Mustard Plug vocalist David Kirchgessner. “I loved that it was accessible and created its own community around it. However, in the late ’80s in Michigan, the punk scene started to fall apart. The scene was getting more violent; there was a stronger Nazi skin element to it, and girls didn’t really feel all that comfortable at shows.”

“Ska had all the good elements of punk, but it was staunchly anti-racist, welcoming, had its own, unique culture, and was super fun to dance to,” Kirchgessner says. “It was hard to come by at first, but there was a cool, little scene bubbling up, with bands like Gangster Fun and the Toasters, and it was starting to get bigger and had all this amazing energy. I loved that the bands all knew each other and helped each other out.”

At the same time, further into the U.S. heartland, three young brothers were forming The Gadjits in Kansas City, Missouri.

“Operation Ivy is what sold me on ska, personally,” oldest brother Brandon Phillips recalls. “There were lots of other records being passed around at the time, but a CD copy of Energy is the one that really put the hooks in deep.”

“As the youngest of three brothers, I got to use my older brothers as musical gatekeepers,” Adam Phillips says. “I was pretty young, so a lot of it is kind of a blur, but I remember walking downstairs and hearing ‘A Message To You, Rudy’ by the Specials and saying, ‘WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!’ A handful more two-tone ska songs mixed in with Operation Ivy and Skankin’ Pickle, and I was pretty hooked.”

Members of Mustard Plug and The Gadjits, to varying degrees, could tell that they were part of something bigger in the halcyon days of third-wave ska.

“It’s like that scene in the Blues Brothers: ‘We’re on a mission from God.’ It totally felt that way!” Kirchgessner says. “Only our mission was to expose people to this amazing music and counteract all the other crap that was out there. In the early ’90s, the bands and fans still owned the music and scene, and it was incredibly exciting to be a part of it.” Brandon is a bit more reticent to fully embrace the phenomenon.

“At the time, the attitude of ‘do what you want’ was so pervasive that I don't know how accurate my sense of any movement would have been,” he says. “Lots of kids, in lots of bands, doing lots of different things, and it was all cool. What I do know is that I was shook the first time I saw a room full of kids start jumping to our band. Like, ‘HOLY SHIT! THEY THINK THIS IS FUN, TOO!’ That part is the one I hold close.”

“I remember feeling really super weird watching our little underground thing turn super popular,” Adam recalls. “One day, I’m getting shit on by the jocks at my school for dressing weird and being a freak for liking punk and ska. The next year, everyone had ska fever and there were skanking lessons being taught by the MTV VJs.”

Unlike most of their peers, Mustard Plug never split up or quit playing. While the scene never completely went away, Kirchgessner has definitely felt the recent resurgence.

“It’s amazing, and quite frankly, it’s thrown me a little off guard,” he says. “We’ve hit the West Coast every January or February for most of the last decade, playing most of the same cities, and this year, it was really phenomenal! With our fans getting older, it’s been tough to get good crowds on off days, but there is this new energy and new fans, and that is really exciting.”

It would seem that Brandon is more interested in looking forward than reforming The Gadjits to take advantage of the renewed popularity of third wave ska.

“I'm not any good at nostalgia, personally, but I am beyond delighted to see my friends doing shows and tours and making records again, and I still love a heap of that music,” he admits.

Ultimately, Kirchgessner and Mustard Plug are reaping the rewards of their perseverance.

“I’ve been pretty cynical about any rebirth of ska for many years,” he says. “But it really seems like it's happening, and I’m really excited about it.”

“It’s really inspiring us to do new things and write new music and keep on being Mustard Plug,” he concludes.