The Animalcule Story

Animalcule is a purely analog outfit that creates perpetually transforming landscapes of gyroscopic waveforms. The group's unique cornucopic melting pot of fusion, progressive rock, psychedelic freeform and avant-garde experimentation provides the listener with a kaleidoscope of sonic goodies to draw pleasure from. Animalcule is consistently impressive when performing live, often enveloping themselves in liquid light or bathing the stage set in intense film projections. Their audience is presented with an invitation of sorts; to accompany the band on a journey through audible slides, chutes, corridors, and up ladders of gilded clover.

The nucleus of the band was formed in 1995, about a year after a bound and determined John Leffers won the South Dakota state "AA" middleweight wrestling championship. Longtime friends Josh Hilpert (bass guitar and vocals) and Ryan Kickland (guitar, sitar and vocals) began a musical project called "Apparatus," even going so far as to call it "Roth-oth-'Amon" at times. Their first noteworthy work was a piece called "The Headmaster's Daydream," eighteen minutes of psychotropic musical balderdash captured on tape just days after the duo's inception. Crude as this first recording may have been, it wasn't lost on those listening at the time that a
refreshingly original seed had been planted.

The next few years saw a significant blossoming of talent and vision,  as evidenced by the 1998 recording sessions that included the freeform  classics "Just To See How Old I Am" and "The Dinner Party." The impact these tracks had in certain circles cannot be overstated. Perhaps it was  best summed up by James Whermchat Sides, a longtime Animalcule devotee,
when he stated "Hearing that music was a turning point in my life. When I laid down on that big, fluffy blowup mattress and took in 'The Dinner Party' for the first time, I turned into a motherfucking retard. The room turned into a big, chuckling bowl of jello and I couldn't help but throw up all over the front of myself. Ever since that day, I've been rolling my tongue out
over my top row of teeth, stuffing it up there behind my spitty lips." 

Despite such encouragement, however, the comrades-in-arms were beginning to feel some disillusionment by this time. They had had their sights set all along on forming a complete band, and even came close at times (drummers Tom Craig and Mike Corenza and keyboardist Tim Fair had all spent brief tenures in the lineup along the way), but were never quite able to pull together the right mix of devoted musicians to help realize their unique vision. So they parted ways for a time, pursuing their own interests, though never losing hope that the band would eventually come together. As Fate would have it, they wouldn't have long to wait. By mid-1999, significant developments were beginning to unfold on Ryan's end. He had teamed up with the young virtuoso Patrick Ondrozeck, who  in turn provided some of the instrumentation on the groundbreaking
Kickland solo album, "The 3-D Collapsing Star." 

Being a formally trained pianist and  percussionist, Ondrozeck brought an exciting new sense of cohesion to the table, and the music he and Ryan recorded together at the time is a portrait of renewed vigor, displaying an almost tangible sense of new found confidence and anticipation. It was also during this time that Kickland truly hit his  stride as a songwriter, and with the creative engine moving full speed ahead, the two of them launched headlong into a second series of
recordings that would serve as the debut album for the new band. "Animalcule" is an impressive CD by anyone's standards, loaded with a generous helping of impressive original material, including the now widely beloved classics "A Bit Too Far" and "Monkey Business."  It was time. Armed with such convincing evidence, Kickland had no trouble convincing Hilpert that the hour had arrived for the band to be united. 

Josh: "I was living out in the Black Hills then, pretty much going it alone musically. And I was on a totally different path than he was. It had been a while since we'd really played together, and a lot of my interest at that time was focused on some of the old country blues men like Son House, Robert Johnson and Skip James. I think this artistic hiatus from one another actually turned out to be pretty beneficial in the end because we  each explored our own new musical avenues and were able to bring what we had taken from them back to the table when it was finally time to put the band together. Hence, we ended up with a more complete musical foundation collectively."

And so it was - the birth of Animalcule proper - October 2000. At long last here was the band, armed and ready for the journey that lay ahead. What sweetened the pot even further was the addition of saxophonist and "special guy" Guthrie Graylobe, a curious fellow who smiled a lot and had brown hair. Guthrie served the band in more or less a jack-of-all-trades capacity, often squeezing himself behind multiple instruments in one song. There was a strong sense at the time of history in the making, and together these four gifted young men grew a 'garrow as thickie as a thief.

To celebrate, the new four-man regiment played their first live show as such on Halloween of that year. "The Red Masquerade," held at a banquet hall in the band's hometown and widely advertised for weeks via a series of colorful posters - the rare "Have you ever made your father hate?" version soon becoming a collector's item - was a grandiose costume ball that showcased not only the band, but also the traveling poetry of Nate "Diamonds" Miller and the abstract artwork of David Kitzler, who had contributed the painting featured on the cover of Animalcule's debut
album.

 The band was introduced by a man dressed as a sea cucumber, and from that point on the evening was characterized by frenzied dancing and an impressive array of puzzling lights that would have made Ken Kesey proud, not to mention the proverbial "network of colored steam" flowing forth from the band's amplifiers. For one profound evening at least, the audience was transported back in time to none other than Swinging London's UFO club.
And what's more, the entire musical score was captured on state-of-the-art audio gear and subsequently released as a two-disc album, complete with the poetry and Kitzler artwork. This new Animalcule had delivered, and those fortunate enough to have been present wouldn't soon forget. 

Over the course of the next year, our heroes took to the stage in shirts, slacks, shoes and socks, treating folks all over the nation's breadbasket to heaping platefuls of their colorful repertoire - a "grande olde tyme," as it were, being had by all. Kickland, upon speaking of the experimental nature of the performances, commented, "When presenting a Mid-Western audience with 30-minute heaps of cheek buckling, psychedelic sound storms, you can guarantee there will be a few stunned looks. People just don't expect to walk into a South Dakota bar only to find themselves swimming through liquid light while riding a high-speed sonic caterpillar through an ocean of audible madness. The typical passerby may or may not be ready to be rendered mentally retarded by this type of scenario."

The most noteworthy occasion during this, the proverbial "coming-of-age" period, was the show the group presented on Valentine's Day 2001. As the official guests of the National Music Museum, Animalcule performed two sets at the ceremony for the formal induction of the
infamous trumpet from "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band." This was truly a one-of-a-kind event, held in the cavernous sanctuary of a century-old cathedral. After the hors d'oeuvres were served, a strident marching band in full regalia brazenly paraded into the room to kick things off, holding the silver-plated instrument aloft on a velvet pillow, with all the pomp and pageantry of the union army. A dashing man in a tuxedo, serving as the evening's emcee, then made his rounds, allowing audience members a closer glimpse of the specimen. Thin, white cotton gloves were passed out to those persons who, upon closer examination, hungrily succumbed to their strong urge to take and examine it. 

After a brief history was given, Animalcule was introduced. At this point the lights went out, the amplifiers began rumbling, thirty-foot high motion picture video images were cast over the band, and those still present lost all sense of reality. Afterwards, one individual (who would only refer to himself as "The Liquidy Kid From New York") was prompted to exclaim, "I'm out of my goddamn mind! I've never seen anything like that in my entire life. Who the hell were those guys? What the hell just happened?" 

The phenomenon was spreading; everywhere this foursome went, members of their audiences frequently found themselves asking questions akin to those of the Liquidy Kid. Just who were these mysterious animals, bending and shaping minds with their curious analog devices, and how on Earth was this happening? Were these events even aptly called gigs, or were they some
type of science experiment? Why now, and why the Great Plains? The answers were few and far between and the members of Animalcule, stitched shut and bone-taut, were mum. The band also managed to surface with something else during this time -  a three-track EP of new and bizarre material. Dubbed "Once Removed" forits apparent dissociation from the rest of the band's work, the disk's back cover describes the contents as "a sonic assembly of majesty and lunacy
that severs all ties with contemporary music." This isn't far from the truth. A wide variety of sounds are heard, ranging from the unmistakable golden timbre of a vintage Steinway & Sons baby grand piano on down to untamed, primal screaming reminiscent of what one might expect to hear from a desperate, dying caveman being savagely torn apart inside of his own home.

Engineered and mixed at Gray Matter studios and adorned in the classic fashion with exclusive David Kitzler artwork, this CD is a must-have for Animalcule completists and those looking to explore the genre from an alternate angle. 

The latter part of 2001 also witnessed a significant structural change in the group. Lured away by the likes of Immanuel Kant and Friedrich Schlegel, Guthrie parted ways with his counterparts to pursue a higher education in philosophy at St. John's College in Santa Fe, New Mexico. In the face of this adversity, however, the band showed a remarkable amount of resilience. Rather than try and tediously rework old arrangements to fit the new three-piece lineup, the streamlined Animalcule made the conscious decision to forge ahead by going into virtual hibernation and devoting all of their efforts to the creation of a new album. Hilpert says, "For the longest time, we had wanted to go into the studio without any kind of deadline and just see what kind of a collection we could come up with if we really put our minds to it. We wanted to be able to present a complete and total representation of what this band is all about and what we had to offer. To a certain degree, we didn't feel like we had done that yet. In the end, I think we succeeded." 

And succeed they did - Josh's remark was an understatement. The new album, "Cerebellumusic," was a milestone of twenty-first century music. Requiring a full year to complete, it showcased the raw talent and instrumental prowess of an energetic and dedicated Animalcule free from all restraints. There's something here for everybody, from the satirical opener "The Suited Man" to the light and comedic "Accessory to Man-napping" to the rich, demented undertones of epics like
 "The Wandering Eye" and "Animal Kingdom." This album stands on its own, serving as the be all/end all of latter-day psychedelia. "Somebody get me a drink," said acclaimed DJ Ray "The Zebra" Kello. "I can't believe what I'm hearing right now! Hey, while you're at it, you might as well get me a new pair of undies, because I just wet these! Who the hell ARE these guys, anyway?"

As the recording sessions for "Cerebellumusic" were being wrapped up in the fall of 2002, the group was blindsided with an enormous stroke of luck.  Clint Wood, a seasoned percussionist, Gulf War veteran and, coincidently, a dedicated fan of the band, made it known that he'd be interested in joining  forces with Animalcule. After only one invitational "jam session," it was unanimously recognized that Fate had intervened again. Wood's new contribution was a godsend. It meant that each member of the ensemble could now devote himself fully to his own instrument of specialty and that, once ready, they could finally take to the stage again as a complete four-piece lineup. It was an almost unbelievable twist of events, and it couldn't have
happened at a better time. As Kickland later commented, "Clint Wood's arrival was truly a thunderclap of motivation for everyone involved. Not only had we found ourselves the right man for the job, but also a fresh perspective can do wonders for a band. Clint's energy and enthusiasm for Animalcule was definitely what the good doctor ordered. It truly dawned on us that we had a mercenary on our hands. We had blood on our hands." 

Animalcule forged on to play a fury of shows across the Midwest in 2003-2004. They also self-produced and released one of the finest bodies of work in the history of Animalcule, "Mystery Vs. Majesty". In April of 2004, there was another big change. Reaching a plateau in the Midwest, Ryan Kickland and Clint Wood (with Pat Ondrozeck to follow) decided to leave for the West Coast to introduce Animalcule to a new audience and new possibilities. They relocated to Oregon and joined forces with bassist Chris Brady, and a new incarnation of Animalcule was born. Animalcule is currently rocking the Northwest United States.