A Partially-Witnessed History of Michigan Power Pop (Part 1)

Guest Post: Ryan Allen (+ Curated Michigan Power Pop Playlist)

This two part series was original published in Remember The Lightning—A Guitar Pop Journal, Volume 4, the final installment of our sadly defunct print zine series, in 2024.

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The Scene That Never Was (Part 1)

A Partially-Witnessed History of Michigan Power Pop

By Ryan Allen

My memory is shit or it’s amazing. Some days I can’t tell.

Some memories will be fragmented; others will be crystal clear. But, I tell myself, “This is what happens when you’ve lived multiple lives between the walls of when you were born and however old you are now.”

This is how I remember it: It’s 1996. I’d just gotten my driver’s license, and was already loading my Discman with catchy and loud guitar music (Sloan, Weezer, et al.) to crank while I drove my blue Mercury Sable around town. When I used the heater, it smelled like pancakes for some reason; but it was my car…my new sanctuary to go and discover a world I was only reading about in magazines alone in my room, pining for some gateway into a cooler existence.

At some point that year I had befriended these two goofy guys named Dave and Karl (no idea how…c’mon memory!). Both Dave and Karl seemed to be connected to a corner of indie rock I was still learning about; they talked about Polvo, Tortoise, and the Make-Up with the same enthusiasm I had for the bands I discovered on my own. I figured I should hang out with these guys so I could add to my precious CD wallet, and upgrade the soundtrack in my Sable.

Since I was the guy with the car, Dave asked if I would drive us out to Ypsilanti—Michigan’s Brooklyn to Ann Arbor’s Manhattan—to The Green Room, a short-lived DIY coffee shop/music venue to see the Make-Up and openers Arab on Radar. Even though I hadn’t heard either band yet, I jumped at the chance to witness what would essentially be my very first “punk show.”

After a short stop at a thrift store (to buy our “show clothes,” I guess?), we arrived at the small space on Michigan Ave. downtown. I’ll spare you most of the details, but I will tell you that the singer from Arab on Radar shoved the microphone up his ass, and the Make-Up put on an amazing show of herky-jerky soul that my brain didn’t fully comprehend at the time (you can actually watch the entire set on YouTube).

The whole thing blew my mind. Welcome to the rest of your life, Ryan.

Where All The Kids Meet

So, where am I going with this and what the fuck does it have to do with Michigan and power pop (indeed, what the title of this article promised)? Well, we had so much fun at the show that we went back the next night; but this time instead of hipster-approved national touring acts, a local band called Spindle was playing. Spindle was fronted by a jittery, floppy-haired guy named Eric Weir, a disciple of all the same pop-infused rock I was feeling drawn to around this time, like Superdrag and Thrush Hermit.

Detroit’s Metro Times once said, “Spindle stands out with an engaging honesty and feeling which drives the hooks and melodies” and from my recollection, that statement holds true. I’m pretty sure they are one of the first local bands I ever saw, and they were awesome. The kind of awesome that made me think, “Wow, there are bands from around here playing the kind of music I like. Maybe I could do that, too?”

I recently texted Weir to ask if he remembered playing this show. He didn’t. Like I said, my memory is shit, so maybe I just imagined it? Either way, I count this as the moment I realized that Michigan might have a space reserved for the kinds of bands that favored melody and harmony over sheer grungy aggression or playing your instrument like a caveman.

You Go In The Opposite Direction

Turns out, according to Third Man Records’ and Dirtbombs drummer Ben Blackwell, I was wrong.

“I’m unsure if there’s a true Detroit or Michigan power pop strain,” Blackwell told me over email. “I think that the folks from Michigan who were doing power pop were teenage guys that grew up seeing the Stooges and MC5 at the Grande Ballroom [Note: An undeniably important, now shuttered Detroit music venue that hosted all the heavy hitters, from Janis Joplin to Pink Floyd]. They saw just the most amazing punk and hard rock at their most formative moments and...how are you gonna ever compete with that? How do you top it? You go in the opposite direction.”

That singular statement poses an interesting question: Does Michigan have a power pop scene? Is there something connecting the music made in the Great Lake State—the state where I have lived my entire life—with what was going on in places like Los Angeles, New York City, and Cleveland in the ‘70s and ‘80s? And if the answer is “yes,” what makes it unique? If the answer is “no,” well, then why the hell not?

Spindle couldn’t have been on an island by themselves in the ‘90s, could they? Let’s see for ourselves.

Search And Destroy:1960-1979

In order to answer these questions, I needed to go back to the start: the “pre-power pop” days of the ‘50s and ‘60s, before high harmonies met high gain. Truthfully, the foundation of what might possibly make up a Michigan power pop scene or sound has been well documented already. So, I don’t need to tantalize you with the history of Motown, nor do I need to impress upon you just how important Alice Cooper, the Stooges and MC5 are to the musical history of this state. You fuckin’ know this shit, and if you don’t you probably shouldn’t be reading a niche power pop magazine only available on Amazon.

That said, I would be remiss not to mention cornerstone Michigan artists such as the garage-y the Pleasure Seekers (featuring a young Suzi Quatro and her sisters) or the good time R&B of Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels. I also can’t not mention the impact of Flint’s Grand Funk Railroad, Ann Arbor’s the Rationals, or even the “Silver Bullet” man himself, Bob Seger; all laid the brickwork for others to come and stand upon. Throw in late ‘60s and early ‘70s groups like SRC, the Frost, the Rockets, and Sonic’s Rendezvous Band—a veritable super group of legends from MC5, the Rationals, and the Stooges—and the power pop pump is primed.

I should also mention what was going on nationally around this time. Pete Townsend is said to have coined the term “power pop” in 1967 to describe the melodic racket the Who were making. Not too long after, other Beatles-and-Who obsessed, guitar-wielding warriors started to appear throughout the ‘70s. These are bands you know: Raspberries, Badfinger, Cheap Trick and Big Star. Blackwell, a writer himself, said of power pop, “I best heard it described once as ‘Bands trying to sound like Big Star’ and I like that. Even if it’s not perfect, it works for me. To me, the signifiers would tend to be an awareness of punk rock without ever really succumbing to it.”

So, the formula is there. Rock music was happening in Detroit, Ann Arbor, and Flint, and by the mid ‘70s power pop was seemingly having a moment, too. With all that said, there must have been, like, a scene…right? Like I said, I wasn’t there, so I asked Matt Smith of the “possibly power pop” combo Outrageous Cherry to weigh in.

“The first underground band I saw play live in Detroit in the late ‘70s was a group called Master Cylinder, who had a pop vibe. There was also a band called Straight Up who made a 45 back then…very influenced by Badfinger. I always tell people that all the bands from the late ‘70s Detroit punk scene at Bookies [Note: Bookies Club 870, a historic punk/new wave venue that hosted everybody from locals Destroy All Monsters to the Dead Boys and the Police] were trying to sound like the Flamin’ Groovies, which I think is true. The Flamin’ Groovies seem to have had a huge influence on these Detroit musicians, in the same way that all the ‘60s Detroit bands were influenced by the band Them. I wonder if the Flamin’ Groovies’ 45 ‘Shake Some Action’ is what started the whole power pop thing?”

Okay. So, there’s some evidence there, but I should point out that I’d never heard of any of the bands Smith mentioned (aside from the Groovies, obviously) which may slightly prove a point. It doesn’t seem like there was much of a national presence for power pop-adjacent bands from Michigan, nor did it seem like there was much camaraderie aside from the occasional Flamin’ Groovies-obsessed locals opening for the Damned or Johnny Thunders when they came to town.

Even bands like the Torpedos (of whom Metro Times said, “Played in tune, which distinguished them from so many other punk bands of the era.”), the Sillies (who put out a killer single called “No Big Deal” in 1979), Sky (featuring a pre-Knack Doug Fieger, that released two LPs in the early ‘70s), and Dwarf (featuring Nick Piunti, who recorded the kick-ass single “Gotta Get Louder” b/w “I Won’t Be Back” in 1975, when he was around 15 years old) flew under the radar. Fieger, who moved to LA to start the Knack in 1977, told the Intermittent Signals podcast in 2010 that he didn’t even know his band was power pop. “We did have an idea of forming a band influenced by the Who and the Kinks—our two main influences. That was the idea, but nobody called it ‘power pop’ in the beginning.”

Talking to Piunti about those days gives me the impression that it was equally a great time to be a power pop band and a difficult one as well; one that might require following in Fieger’s footsteps and splitting from Michigan to get noticed.

“[Dwarf] started in 6th grade, and our first show was our talent show. We played gigs at junior high school dances, then high school dances,” Piunti said. “By the time we got going it was like ‘Beatlemania,’ with young girls screaming. We were always writing songs and recorded our first single in 1975. We continued to grow (kinda) and write and record until we finished college. We eventually changed our name to the Take, moved to LA and could not compete with the hair metal scene. It wasn’t our bag and didn’t try to make it ours. The band disbanded after two years in LA without making much of a bang.”

Someday, Someway: 1980-1990

By the end of the ‘70s, with the Beatles long gone and the Stones flirting with disco on Some Girls, bands and artists like Cheap Trick, Elvis Costello & the Attractions, the Nerves, Nick Lowe, and Dwight Twilley seemed to pick up the torch, marrying British Invasion-era signifiers (namely harmonies and songs about girls) with something more dirty, distorted, and energetic—pre-dating, or perhaps coinciding with, punk. And you know what? People liked it. A lot. (Cheap Trick At Budokan is three times platinum, for cryin’ out loud)

Developing parallel to power pop and ‘80s new wave was the American and British underground, with bands like R.E.M. and the Smiths leading the charge. By the mid-‘80s, sounds had splintered all over the place and guitar pop bands were taking inspiration from everywhere, forming micro-genres along the way including the ‘60s-inspired, psychedelic sounds of the Paisley Underground and groups like the Rain Parade, to the more rough-and-tumble, glass-throated laments of Paul Westerberg and his band of beautiful drunks, the Replacements. Indeed, rock’s spectrum had widened, and Michigan wasn’t about to be left out of the party.

Much like what was happening nationally, a few Michigan power pop acts had their own flirtation with stardom, namely the Romantics with hits like “What I Like About You” and “Talking In Your Sleep,” and a bespectacled, Buddy Holly-loving guy from the small town of Berkley named Marshall Crenshaw (“Someday, Someway” is still pop perfection). As Outrageous Cherry’s Smith was keen to remind me, the Romantics were on American Bandstand in 1980 (a “major moment in Detroit power pop history,” he claims). A few years later, Crenshaw actually played his idol Holly in the 1987 hit movie La Bamba (which was also the first time I saw nude breasts in my life). Needless to say, big time stuff.

But like all musical movements, there’s usually something bubbling under the surface that is even more exciting than what’s going on above ground. And even though it could hardly be called a “scene”—according to Chris Richards (he of Hippodrome, Chris Richards & the Subtractions, and the Legal Matters), something was happening.

Richards told me via email, “When we started in the ‘80s, we were inspired by the southeast jangle scene (the dB’s/R.E.M./Let’s Active) as much as the Paisley pop scene (the Church/the Three O’Clock), as well as where it started with the Beatles/Who/Kinks.”

About the local scene, Richards says, “I certainly don’t remember a lot of power pop bands in the mid-‘80s when we started—as it felt Hippodrome (my first real band) shared many a bill with pop leaning rock bands. Bands I recall loving were Static Alphabet, Orange Roughies, Dancing Smoothies, and a few more my addled brain cannot remember.”

So, once again I feel like I’m getting somewhere and—BAM!— somebody is like, “Dude, there was no scene.” That said, I would be remiss to not mention some of the great pop music that was coming out of Michigan at this time. You have the aforementioned Orange Roughies, who were on a similarly jangly wavelength as Material Issue, and Junk Monkeys, fronted by David Bierman, who gave Soul Asylum’s Dave Pirner a run for his money. Richard’s assessment of his own work in Hippodrome is essentially spot-on, and their song “The Girl You Met Yesterday” is the best song Psychedelic Furs never wrote. Toss in the garage-y pop of Hysteric Narcotics—who’s “Wild As Soul” is 13th Floor Elevators with Attractions-style organ—and you’ve got worthy local equivalents of the cool kids’ club. Hell, even Detroit native Chad Smith (later of Red Hot Chili Peppers fame) got to put as much gated reverb on his snare as he wanted in his pre-Peps, Plimsouls-esque band Toby Redd.

Be My Satellite: 1990-2000

By the end of the ‘80s, MTV had a full stranglehold on the youth of America. All the while, college radio stations were playing more and more obscure music and the punk underground was being built on the backs of aggressive hardcore bands like Black Flag and Minor Threat. Dance, pop, and R&B music was still driving the charts, and a hard version of poetry and rhythm called rap was starting to bubble up to the mainstream. You had groups as diverse as Public Enemy, Milli Vanilli, and U2 all sharing the public’s consciousness. What I’m trying to say is that this shit was primed for what happened next.

1991 hit, and like frazzled, bratty angels sent from the heavens to kill hair metal, Nirvana arrived and blew the damn barn doors off. Disintegrated them, in fact, and the world was never the same. With the success of this ripped-and-stained band from Seattle, rock music was big fuckin’ business all of a sudden, and the record labels immediately started hunting for the next big, loud, melodic thing. In the wake of Nevermind, a newer new wave of guitar bands began popping up like daisies: bands with names like Superdrag, Jellyfish, Sloan, the Posies, Teenage Fanclub, Velvet Crush, Weezer, and, like, 10 million more. To paraphrase what Superdrag’s John Davis told Metro Pulse in 2005, they all seemed keen on combining Beatles melodies with Dinosaur Jr. guitar. And guess what? Like the rest of the country, lots of Michigan-dwelling bands heard these groups and said, “Sounds awesome. Sign me up!”

Back then, I was fully dialed in to my local alt rock radio station, 89X, which debuted on May 13, 1991, and played everything from the Cure and the Cult to some of the more obscure Canadian indie bands of the day, like the Jale, Hardship Post, and Pure (due to being stationed across the Detroit River in Windsor, Canada). They also had specialized programming, including “The Homeboy Show”—hosted by DJ Kelly Brown—where they played local acts. This is where I first started to hear about bands with names like Daddy Long Legs, Breach, and a quirky, jangle-pop band called the Happy Accidents, who had a nerdy pop vibe that fit right in with the Weezer-leaning Generation Blue geek rock that was happening at the time.

“The Homeboy Show” quickly became a resource, and soon I was finding out about other local bands that dug crunchy guitars and impassioned harmonies just as much as I did.

One such band was called the Fletcher Pratt.

“[The Fletcher Pratt singer/guitarist] George Dubber and I began jamming with other middle school friends in St. Clair Shores, back in 1989,” singer/guitarist Stephen Palmer said via email. “Fletcher Pratt grew out of a four-track cassette project called Big Moss, which George and I started in high school in 1993. Big Moss was our version of a Lennon-McCartney-esque collaboration—big surprise. Our tastes also leaned towards current acts like Urge Overkill, Dinosaur Jr., Smashing Pumpkins, Matthew Sweet, Lemonheads, R.E.M., and other power pop bands. At that time, we were blissfully unaware of Guided by Voices or Sloan, who would later become major influences.”

Honestly, I’m not sure if I first heard the Fletcher Pratt on the radio or if I saw them play live (there’s that bad memory again), but either way, they were doing exactly the kind of music that I wished my scrappy band was doing—clear, ringing Rickenbackers, with loud, Keith Moon-style drumming, referencing all the best ‘90s power pop bands, but also British Invasion/mod sounds and styles, in just the coolest way.

They were also playing with my Canadian heroes; I saw them open for Sloan, the Inbreds, the New Pornographers, and more. Listen to songs like “Electrocute!” and “Satellite” and tell me this isn’t the shit. But similar to Richards and Piunti before him, Palmer found it hard to figure out where they fit in.

“When we first attempted to play shows, we didn’t know any bands in Detroit. We had no idea how to go about getting a gig other than calling the venue and asking whoever answered if we could book a show. In those days, it was all about draw: ‘Can you draw?! …how many people?!’ We played coffee houses and occasional ‘audition nights’ at certain bars that would give you a weekend slot if you did okay on a Wednesday. The notion of building a bill with other bands never occurred to us because we had no idea you could do that. We were 18 or 19—we couldn’t actually get into bars. We actually thought ‘TBA’ was a band and marveled at their ability to land so many gigs, sometimes at different venues in the same night.”

That’s a funny joke, of course, but also the Midwestern naiveté of the ‘90s—where information was hard to come by, yet the world seemed to be moving faster all of a sudden—is maybe part of the formula for what makes a Michigan power pop band tick. Maybe “not fitting in” (either out of not caring or being oblivious) was the thing that connected these bands, in some way.

While the Verve Pipe and Sponge were making national waves with alt rock singles “The Freshman” and “Molly,” lesser known bands were making noise all over the state. For instance, Lansing—home of Michigan State University—produced radio-ready rock (think Stroke 9 or Marvelous 3) in the form of bands like 19 Wheels and Fat Amy (weirdly featuring future The Bachelor star Bob Guiney). In 1996, a kid from Royal Oak named Brendan Benson linked up with former Jellyfish member Jason Falkner and wrote and released a power pop masterpiece in One Mississippi (on Virgin Records, no less).

And bands like Hoarse (lead by John “Speck” Liccardello, later of the Fags and HiFi Handgrenades, who were signed to RCA), the Numbers (lead by Kenny Tudrick, who later played with the Detroit Cobras and Kid Rock), and the Atomic Numbers are all regarded as absolutely essential power pop of the era. Listen to songs like Hoarse’s “Diamond” or the entirety of Atomic Numbers’ Electromotive—a band Metro Times said “manage to retro-fit the grand pop sounds of yesteryear (think Badfinger, Elvis Costello) into a walloping, brainy whole of post-modern rock ‘n’ roll”—and it’s hard to understand why these bands weren’t touring with Foo Fighters or some shit.

Still, there’s an amazing treasure trove of bands from this era to check out, including the aforementioned, bubblegum-meets-psych songwriting genius of Matt Smith and Outrageous Cherry, the New York Dolls/Ramones, cross-dressing glam-pop of the Trash Brats (basically the Exploding Hearts well before they existed), the Buffalo Tom-style melodic rock of Grayling, the youthful mod-rock of the Jam/Supergrass/Buzzcocks-obsessed the Sights, and the indie leaning art-pop of Cloud Car (featuring John Nelson, who I now play with in the band Speed Circuit).

So, what’s the deal? Why weren’t bands like the Fletcher Pratt and their peers huge?

Palmer explained: “We never drew more than 80-100 people at our peak and just didn’t appeal to people en masse. We had a ton of help along the way in terms of great gigs with bigger, national acts, [but] we just couldn’t make fire…”

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YOU’RE HALF WAY THERE…KEEP GOING!

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Ryan Allen lives in the suburbs of Detroit and makes music with various outfits, including Extra Arms, Big Life, and Speed Circuit. He fancies himself a prolific songwriter ala Bob Pollard, except less talented, but also younger. Check out Ryan’s Substack interviews.

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Looking for a place to start your Michigan power pop journey?

Ryan curated a “Michigan Power Pop” playlist on Spotify to get you going. Buckle up, and prepare to be smitten by some rock from the Mitten.

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