Though Jason Hamacher is known to many underground rock fans as a member of the late, heavily influential, D.C.-area post-punk outfit Frodus, he might be more familiar to Tampa extreme-music scenesters in another role — that of drummer for locally based chaotic noise-core outfit Combatwoundedveteran.
Following Frodus' breakup at the end of the '90s, Hamacher became acquainted with Combatwounded-veteran while filling in behind the kit for another brutal, well-traveled Central Florida act, Reversal of Man. When the drum slot in Combatwoundedveteran opened up in '99, he switched over with the intention of joining full-time, but the logistics of distance forced him to bow out in 2000.
"I really wanted to [make it work]. But the way everyone was with me always having to fly there, we could never write enough songs, or get together enough," says Hamacher, who remains a D.C. resident. "Just the usual crap. But it was really fun."
The end of his tenure with Combatwoundedveteran turned out to be the beginning of the already long, long story of his current project, Decahedron. It's a tale that includes, among other things, an aborted Frodus reunion, Fugazi bassist Joe Lally, unexpected CMJ chart success, a name change, thousands of miles, and nearly four years' time.
And their first full-length isn't even out yet.
And, at the time of a late January phone interview, the band hadn't yet played its first gig.
"It's been four years, man," Hamacher says. "I forgot the effort, how much work it takes to do this stuff. I'm into it, though."
Hamacher's desire to continue making daring music led him to reunite with Frodus vocalist/guitarist Shelby Cinca. After a period of gestation, and after auditioning a few bassists, the pair decided to ask friend and influence Joe Lally of posthardcore D.I.Y. champions Fugazi into the fold, more as a lark than with any real hope that he'd be interested.
"We actually had a real falling out with another guy," Hamacher remembers. "That fell apart, and we didn't know what to do, so we said 'let's just ask Joe. What the hell? Why not? Yeah, that'll happen.' But he said sure."
The trio began writing and recording song ideas in 2002, but various personal and family obligations kept the demos from becoming something more. Hamacher decided to travel to Europe with Swedish political mod-rockers (International) Noise Conspiracy, working their merchandise booth for a succession of tours. While he was gone, however, Cinca and Lalley made some inspired forward steps, and sent the material to Hamacher. During a trip to the Middle East, he first heard the basis of what would be the trio's first released music.
"I'm on the Syrian plain, listening to our new band," he marvels. "Are you familiar with Bible history? I was coming back from the alleged tomb of Job, listening to the new band. It was strange."
The newly christened The Black Sea put out an eponymous three-song EP later that year, an eclectic introduction that, while definitely evincing the angular, propulsive rhythms of their former bands, nonetheless featured a less bombastic, more contemplative vibe.
Because of the group's desire to immediately carry on with developing its sound, and continuing extra-band turmoil — Cinca, for one, was adapting to his family's recent return to their native Romania — there was no tour to support The Black Sea. Still, the group's skills and pedigree propelled the EP onto CMJ's college-airplay charts.
For the next 10 months, Hamacher, Cinca and Lalley patiently crafted their first full-length. As the recording entered its final stages, the band hit two more snags. One of them wasn't too much of a big deal: Threatened with trademark litigation, they were forced to look for a new name, and decided on Decahedron. The other hitch was major: Lalley left the band in order to relocate to California and devote more time to his family. Hamacher, who, with Cinca, has seen more than his share of bass players come and go, says the move was completely understandable; Lalley had spent basically his entire adult life in a van with Fugazi.
"I understood Joe moving, that wasn't the bum-out. The bum-out was when we asked a couple of people to play with us, and they came, and then they bailed. I was like, 'what's gong on?' We needed to have a Q&A period after the rehearsals," he says, laughing. "'Did you enjoy it? No, really, did you? Are we good guys? You're coming back, right?'"
Eventually, and after briefly considering bringing former Frodus bassist Nate Burke (now of The Out_Circuit) back into the fold, Cinca and Hamacher found a permanent cohort in journeyman musician and longtime friend Johnathan Ford.
"His old band and Frodus traded demos in 1990," says Hamacher. "We've just kind of kept in contact. He's the perfect guy for this band."
Though Ford is now officially the third member of Decahedron, it's Lally whose tracks and input grace Disconnection_Imminent, the full-length due out in a few months. The disc splits the difference between the dynamic ferocity of its contributors' earlier groups and The Black Sea's thoughtful identity. It nicely balances a topical, aggressive and almost futuristic sensibility with raw, committed execution, touching on themes of culture and technology while still, you know, rocking the fuck out.
"It's just kind of what came out. There's a complete difference between the full-length and the EP … we weren't going for anything specific, you know?" Hamacher says. "There were some songs that were left sloppy and aggressive on purpose, but there were songs that were specifically crafted."
Now that the lineup is once again solidified, and the record is slated for release, Decahedron is concentrating on giving audiences a live set that stands up to Disconnection_Imminent's intense, rhythmic listening experience. And it may have been a long time coming, but Hamacher says he's as amped about putting this band onstage now as he was when he and Cinca first got back together.
"I think the record is pretty moving, I think it sounds good, and I don't want people to show up and like the record better," he says. "It's gonna be two separate experiences, but I want them to be on a par with one another. I'm really, really excited. About all of it. I've been wanting to play for a very long time, and we finally get to. There's always something going on, but now it's just a matter of us practicing."
He adds with a laugh:
"By the time we get to Tampa, we should rule."
Contact Music Critic Scott Harrell at 813-248-8888, ext. 109, or by e-mail at scott.harrell@weeklyplanet.com.
This article appears in Feb 5-11, 2004.
