Q&A with Imperial Teen

The record starts off the way a record should start off, with a "One two three go" and a groove that makes you guardedly ask the dick behind the record store counter, "Who is this?"

"It's the new Imperial Teen," the dick'll mumble disgustedly, without looking up from the latest issue of his roommate's zine (which he's proofreading). The song is called "Ivanka" and the two boys and two girls in the band trade off whispered pants about "a knockout in a sea of faces" with a "basketful of kisses that you pass around."

"It sounds like Sonic Youth did the soundtrack for The Mod Squad," you'll want to tell him. "It makes me think of 60s go-go girls shimmying in fringed bikinis under burgundy lights," you'll wish you could tell him. If only you knew how to reach him, how to penetrate that posture of cool and that thick layer of adult acne, you might say, "Let's shimmy-dance."

And the record ends the way a record should end, with a dirge full of "Ahh-ahhs" underneath whispers about beginnings and endings, bests and worsts that build into a big group chant of "It's the best? That'cha did!" And the whole thing just makes you want to graduate high school all over again.

The record is called On (Merge). Looking over the track listing, you'll see the last song is called "The First." You'll want to show that to the dick behind the counter and say, "Hey dickhead, isn't it neat that they called the last song on the album 'The First'? This song makes me feel better about stuff. Does it make you feel better about stuff, cocksucker?" Just then, his burrito will have arrived and without answering you, he will go deep behind the counter and begin eating his burrito on a folding chair, shaking his head after each bite with the impatience of a young man earning seven dollars an hour who knows everything.

In between, there are songs like "Baby," songs full of handclaps and lyrics like "Shake shake, va va voom vis a vis!" Songs that used to make my ex-wife shout, "These guys are fucking dorks." But in a good way.

"There is a sense of dorking out a little bit," says Will Schwartz, Imperial Teen's singer and guitarist. "There's also, ya' know," he says uncertainly, "we're also kinda cool."

They're kinda cool on a track like "Sugar," a quiet seduction song gliding along with the shake of maracas. Killer lines like "Slashing the tires/Made you late for the christening" lead into the breathy chorus: "And I wanna take you home/Cause I wanna take you back." But they dork out again on "Our Time," a bop bop party track about nothing more than "dancing tonight/Under a strawberry light/And it's our time." Following the jump from a major to a minor and hurdling some other roadblocks to the album's release, this song more than any other could be a state-of-the-band address.

"Merge got our six-song demo and they were like, 'Yeah! We like it! Go!' And we just were like, 'Woo! Okay let's go.' And it was spirited and fun and free," says percussionist Lynn Perko. "And it's not like we were being conscious of like, 'Oh my God I feel so healthful and free.' It just sort of happened."

Rounding out the band are Jone Stebbins on bass and Roddy Bottum (formerly of Faith No More) on vocals, guitar and keyboards. They started out as a San Francisco band but have since spread out with recent moves to L.A. and Chicago. The distance added to the lighthearted vibe when they finally got around to recording, according to Perko. "Being that we live in separate places now, our time spent together when we practice?it's not like the drudgery of three times a week we practice, ya know. 'Okay, we're getting together for these three days for the first time in six weeks, so let's get busy.' So it was kind of fun."

The practice room is also the writing room. On was a collaborative effort; no one walked into the studio with a song and handed out everyone's parts. "Whoever sings the song, like whatever their part is, they wrote that part," says Perko. "Whether it be a handclap or a woo, a verse, a chorus. Whoever's doing whatever did that part of the song. We swap out instruments and we trade off information, say this sounds better than that. It's pretty diplomatic. It's not very difficult. I think it's one of the better things we get along doing."

There are various styles at play from track to track. There's the big party pop that veers into the new-wavy "Teacher's Pet," about a naughty girl who "only sticks when she is wet." A couple of tracks could be more refined Belle and Sebastian tunes. However, the tone of the lyrics often remains the same across the style changes. It's a whispered tone that speaks to "A boy and his guitar" pleading to "Put your ear up to the radio/What you hear is a miracle." There's an innocence to it. That romance of a kid being saved by a rock band.

"I see them as more of a sense of longing," says Will Schwartz, lyricist for many of the songs. "Or idealizing. Or just talking about your secrets a little bit. It's kind of more of the stuff you don't say."

According to Schwartz, the lyrics hold no special place in the songwriting process. In his case they are often written immediately before recording. "Sometimes I have an idea of a lyric, and sometimes I'll just write 'em right before I sing the song. Part of that is having a sense of spontaneity. It also drives me completely crazy to do it that way. It doesn't allow you to overthink it. That's where the dorkiness comes in. It allows you to let your dorkiness out. And not be too controlled about what you're saying."

The dorkiness makes the album. Imperial Teen wrote one delicious pop song after another and didn't make the mistake of slathering irony all over the place. When you hear a song like "Baby" you're supposed to get all stupid and dance to it. Leave the knowing glances of "Yeah, I get it" to the dick behind the record store counter. You're a fucking dork.

Imperial Teen plays Thurs.-Sat. & Mon., Aug. 1-3 & 5, 9 p.m., with the Breeders at Bowery Ballroom, 6 Delancey St. (betw. Bowery & Chrystie St.), 533-2111.