Home Grown

Interview With Thee Indigents

Anaheim

July 25, 2018

L.D. Chase is going back in his mind about when Thee Indigents first started.

Their very first show was a 4th of July gig at what they’ve called a “craphole” in Huntington Beach, but Thee Indigents were practicing and playing at parties since 1998, making this their 20th year.

“Oh, that’s right,” Thee Indigents guitarist said quietly maybe surprising himself with the calculation, the revelation.

He’s standing in the tiny parking lot of Dollhut Studios on Adams Street in Anaheim with the rest of Thee Indigents — Richard Salazar (aka Sal on vocals), P.G. (bass) and Gearbox (drums) – and they’ve just capped a two-hour practice. They're sitting on brickwork just outside the building’s entrance. The anniversary’s a milestone that’s hardly acknowledged by the rest of the crew or by anyone outside the band, once pegged by OC Weekly as an act to go see.

Reviews in the past have likened Thee Indigents to derivatives of The Stitches, but they hold court with a place of their own within Orange County’s storied punk rock past — and present. Yes, they play a brand of snot-nosed punk endemic to 90s Orange County. But, it’s a lazy comparison when 20 years should earn a band a nod as something in their own right without having to reference someone else. 

“I don’t feel like you can pin us down really,” Chase said. “We have songs that sound different – yeah, they’re punk or whatever you want to call it. But some sound more blues. Some sound more rock and I’ve always liked Chuck Berry and all that stuff. That’s all in there. It’s just distortion.”

“The roots,” Salazar said.

“I try to make it sound more closely to what you label as West Coast hardcore,” Chase continued. “I don’t know if anybody picked up on that or not. It doesn’t matter if they did.”

It’s a Thursday night, just after 10 p.m., and Thee Indigents are coming off a rowdy show the weekend before at The Blue Door Bar in Fullerton, where they played with The Fag Hags (another long-running OC band) and The J. Allan Band. It was the first time in roughly a year-and-a-half that they’d played with the original Indigents lineup.

“It’s usually clutch,” Sal said. “We usually come through in a clutch.”

“Should we start practicing once a week now?” asked an earnest Chase about 30 minutes prior to their practice wrapping.

“Yeah, I wish we had more freedom....” Gearbox began to say.

“Let’s soak on that for a bit,” Sal says as the thought, for now anyway, fizzles.

They earlier breezed through songs such as “Modern Day,” “Gay Boy” and “American.” They stop every now and then. At one point Chase looks as though he’s on the precipice of wanting to say something, maybe a critique.

“What? What? Out with it,” Sal prodded.

“Do you ever listen to those recordings....” Chase began as if to suggest maybe someone should start listening to it to get the song right.

“Yeah, we’re listening to it right now,” Sal said.

Thee Indigents, even with two decades under their belts, have little in the way of digital traces of the band. Chase, when asked if they’ve got anything on SoundCloud, Bandcamp or otherwise online says he has no idea. There are a few YouTube videos from a live performance and a grip of compilations, if you can get your hands on one: Hostage Records’ “Tower 13” in 2003 with bands such as the Smutt Peddlers, Broken Bottles and Smogtown; OC Weekly’s in 2003; and a few from No Front Teeth. They have one full-length to their name, “No Cerveza, No Trabajo” and the 7” “Brain Dead World.”  

With the original lineup and Chase having written a number of new songs over the years that were swept to the wayside, it begs the question of whether that new material or maybe even a new album might see the light of day.

“Well, there’s a possibility,” Chase said slowly. “George and I want to.” 

“And I’m just really very lazy,” Salazar said with a straight face as he reclined in front of the studio door. “But I will if I have to.”

“We will,” Chase said with conviction.

“We have to get songs together and then give them to him on a silver platter,” Gearbox said, nodding towards Salazar.

“A plastic bag,” added G.P. for further clarity.

“A trash bag,” Gearbox went on to say.

“A toilet seat,” Chase suggested.

“I was trying today,” Salazar said. “I was trying just before – what’d I do with that napkin? It’s somewhere.”

If there is a new release, it would come out in a landscape that’s both stayed the same as it relates to the whole D.I.Y. ethos and, yet, dramatically changed when it comes to factors such as technology, social media or simply a new generation of bands now dotting the scene.

“It’s cool because everybody’s got kids and my kid [Richie Daggers from the Divorces], he’s all into music, too. He’s been in bands,” Salazar said of the change. “I like it because I just can’t stand the radio.”

“Change is necessary and sometimes it’s good. With social media, it’s an onslaught of all this information and everybody’s got it,” Chase said. “The best thing with us being seasoned, if we do put out a new record, I think people will be like ‘Oh, wait a minute. These guys?’ I would hope anyways.’”

“I remember when I started collecting records – I got into it a little late,” Salazar said. “I remember going to Discount Records and looking in the bargain bin where they’d sell stuff for like 99 cents. I remember picking out this 45 called The Dots. I took it home and I listened to that song and it was a fucking great song and I remember thinking ‘Man, one of these days, I’d like to have a 45 so some kid can be looking through the bargain bin and fucking get it for 99 cents, take it home and enjoy it. So we made a 45 and I was like ‘OK, I’m done. I don’t have to practice anymore…. I’m just kidding.”

Maybe.

The four, all originally from Anaheim, started the band because they just wanted to hang out with friends and, for Chase, it was a platform to be heard.

Little has changed, particularly as it relates to what keeps them motivated to continue playing.

“Nobody’s going to say it,” Chase said when the question of why they keep doing it is posed.

“Honestly, I’ll pat myself on the back,” Gearbox said after a few seconds. “We’re a good band.”

“A while back it kind of got a little… but, I mean, when it comes together it sounds, really good,” Salazar said. “We laugh afterwards and have a good time.”

“It can be a total train wreck, falling apart and then we’ll all come back in the same spot," Chase said, "and be playing perfect when 10 seconds ago it’s like running into a wall.”

“I was telling people when we played the other night [at The Blue Door], it’s kind of like when somebody jumps a motorcycle over something,” Salazar said. “They’re either going to make it or not, but it’s entertaining either way.”

“We’ve still got chemistry,” Gearbox said.

“It’s weird to use words,” Chase began. “Words are symbols, right? And we used to scrawl on tables and go ‘Hey, look. I’m trying to tell you something.’ Can we figure out how to use words as symbols here? Anyway, you know, there’s a brotherhood here.”

P.G., who has been quiet most of the evening not even breaking a sweat during practice (he was standing under the A/C), says with a slight smile in a volume barely audible what would seem to be the most apt way to end this:

“It’s fun.”