Locals Only: : Mallory

Together for a little over a year, 2002 finds local Indie Rock trio Mallory celebrating a debut disc and numerous local music accolades, however the band will tell you their destiny was cemented early on by the sum of its parts.

“The first time the three of us played in that dank basement I knew it was a beginning,” notes drummer Mathew Arnold about his band mates, guitarist Dan Heier and vocalist/guitarist Jim Cunningham. “We anticipated each other with no cues — it was uncanny. We would change mood, feel and tempo at the same time, all on something we had never heard.”

Arnold and Heier were friends and played in a number of Clifton basement bands before hooking up with Cunningham, a high school chum from the group’s hometown of St. Leon, Ind. (apparently a local Indie music wellspring that also lays claim to members of The Greenhornes and Thee Shams). The trio began playing local clubs in late 2001 and a positive and active word-of-mouth heralded the band’s handful of performances as powerful and orchestral.

Named after a fire that destroyed a good chunk of the house Cunningham and Arnold once shared in Clifton (Mallory, we’re told, means “the unlucky one”), the band has been quite fortunate this year with a Cincinnati Entertainment Award nod for Best New Artist and showcasing slots during the MidPoint Music Festival and Cincinnati Music Week. Still, the trio considers itself a work in progress.

“We’re constantly trying to evolve our sound, but we can’t hide forever.

So here we are,” Arnold quips.

Mallory’s evolution included selecting a novice guitarist/singer to be their frontman (Cunningham laughs, “I did not know my way around the guitar enough to fake it”) and the decision not to follow traditional Rock constraints — like having a bass player.

“We actually tried several bass players in the beginning, but nothing really came of it,” Arnold notes. “We’re very particular about how things affect the overall sound, so it was hard to find something and someone that fit. We got used to not having a bass player and looked for ways to fill out the sound. The synthesizer worked its way into our set and also gives us more options.”

Recording their debut disc at Ultrasuede Studios gave the three young musicians the opportunity to work with studio boss and former Afghan Whig, John Curley, which each member says was an exciting learning experience. Heier admits to being a bit star-struck with Curley’s credentials as a producer (Greenhornes, Ass Ponys) and performer.

“What’s a guy that’s done all kinds of cool shit going to think of us?” Heier laughs. “(But) he was really easy to work with, answered all of our stupid questions, put up with our bickering, nitpicking, and our sometimes unnecessary obsession with the tiniest details, and he made things a lot easier for us even though we didn’t always make things easy for him.”

The band has titled the resulting seven-song disc The First One Hundred Years. Arnold explains.

“(The disc is) a beginning, it’s the doorway for the long evolutionary road of the Mallory sound,” he notes. “We’re a young band, and we’re constantly looking for ways to expand our ability to make music. The album is a documentation of us starting to find our way.”

Even though it’s their freshman effort, Cunningham admits he is proud of the results, especially a sweeping, crashing track, “Suicide Artist.”

“I think you can feel the environment at the time of the recording. The lyrics are dark but are reminiscent of a better time. Spaceships, serial killers, burning homes, and love are there. I believe it was written in a subconscious tongue” he notes.

The band is encouraged by the support and inspiration they’ve received from other local artists, but shares the same concerns about the general public’s lack of support for the local music scene.

“It is discouraging that so many artists leave the Cincinnati scene, but I can’t blame them,” Arnold acknowledges. “What does Cincinnati have to offer those individuals who are trying to develop themselves? Yes, we’ve got major facilities for the arts here, but what does that do for those of us who haven’t already made it? Where’s our creative district? I could point to about four or five areas where things are happening on a local scale, but there’s little sense of community, and I don’t see Cincinnati doing anything to help the situation. They’ll eat the fruit, but they’re not willing to grow it. We’d really like to stay here and make it happen, but it won’t be easy.”

Cunningham agrees. “I don’t want to leave because Cincinnati has its problems or whatever it is. I want to make music here and now, and that is it.”

This article appears in Nov 13-19, 2002.