THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK; 
Course of Empire has an answer for the gloom of industrial bands 


In the run-down commercial section of Dallas between Deep Ellum and
Fair Park, a group of dilapidated brick buildings has been reclaimed by
artists. Course of Empire, a rock band named after a series of
19th-century paintings about the rise and fall of industrial technology,
occupies one of the smaller shacks. It is here that the five-man group 
rehearsed and recorded demo tapes for its first major-label album, 
Initiation. 

To paraphrase Woody Allen, you don't have to be Fellini to figure out the
connection between Course of Empire's apocalyptic visions and the
surroundings of its practice space. The comparison may be too easy. The
band whose self-titled debut sometimes took itself too seriously has
outgrown its industrial-rock label. 

Initiation, which was released Tuesday by Zoo Entertainment, is less
severe and more sophisticated than Course of Empire (put out by the local
label Carpe Diem in 1990 and reissued by Zoo after it signed the band in 
1992), which sold about 20,000 copies. In fact, the new record is 
downright accessible, at times even funny, if darkly so. 

Rather than pouring on pounding industrial beats and Gothic guitars,
Initiation grooves. During its first half, when each four-minute song
bests the last one, the record has "hit" written all over it. Radio and 
the media are already catching on. Two weeks ago, the single Infested was 
added to playlists at more alternative-rock radio stations than any other 
new song; Request magazine published a feature on the band in its 
February issue; reviews are in the works at Billboard and Musician; the 
group just signed a publishing deal that allowed its members to quit 
their day jobs; and in the middle of an interview last week with four of 
Course's members, a Zoo executive called to say the video for Infested 
had been instantly accepted by MTV for airing on its 120 Minutes program. 

"If we make a lot of money, we'll get a nicer place," 30-year-old lead
singer Vaughn Stevenson half-kids at the start of the two-hour interview
inside Course's rehearsal room. "We'd like to make enough money on the 
record to retire from the music industry and go to culinary school," he 
adds later. "I want to be a pastry chef." 

For a band with a reputation for doom-saying ("Today wild berries still
cling to the vine/though covered with dust and acetylene"), such humor
might seem out of character. Part of it may be attributable to the 
absence of Course's chief philosopher and guitarist, Mike Graff, known 
for his ability to talk at length about many heady subjects. 

But even without being there in person, Mr. Graff adds some laughs to the
interview, calling to say he was running late and then reporting that he
had locked himself out of his house. "Have you ever seen The Absent-Minded
Professor?" asks drummer Chad Lovell. "That's Mike." 

While Course's members still think and write about serious matters, their
focus has turned inward. Initiation is a self-examination, reflecting the
world's problems in each person. 

Breed, the band's consensus favorite track, for example, is about man's
inability to suppress his most basic urges, while Infested is a litany of
apocalyptic images that wrings humor from the issue of population control. 

"You can't be 18 and angsty forever. The angst has turned into
melancholy," jokes bassist Paul Semrad. 

The band, which formed in 1988 around Mr. Graff and now-departed drummer
Anthony Headley (replaced by Michael Jerome in Course's two-drummer setup 
after Initiation was made), will celebrate its new album with a record-
release party and performance at Deep Ellum Live on Saturday. Course's 
members then hope to hook up with an established alternative group for a 
U.S. tour after some regional dates in February. But it's not likely they 
will be opening for an industrial band like Ministry or Nine Inch Nails. 

"We're trying to be an answer to bands like Ministry," Mr. Stevenson says.
"They seem to be so negative all the time. 

Obviously, we still feel a lot of frustration. But when you start
listening to what they're saying in most industrial songs, it's just
really depressing. We wanted to stand toe-to-toe with someone like that, 
but try to be more positive. You can't go around moping forever . . .   
We're just not that way." 

Musically, Initiation is also written and performed on a human scale.
Except for drum programming on a couple of songs, all the parts were
played on conventional instruments, and most of the time, you can hear 
each one. That doesn't mean that Course of Empire doesn't have a larger-
than-life sound, only that it never overshadows the people making it. 

Tightly produced by David Castell at his local R.S.V.P. studio so that not
a hair is out of place, yet full of loud, squawking guitars and tribal
rhythms, Initiation may be the most confident record made by a Dallas band 
since Edie Brickell and New Bohemians' Shooting Rubberbands at the Stars. 

But first and foremost, songs like Infested (whose CD single includes a
remix featuring a horn sample from Benny Goodman's Sing, Sing, Sing),
Breed, White Vision Blowout and Apparition are well-crafted, listener-
friendly pop tunes. 

"There's more melody - I hate to say hooks," Mr. Lovell says anyway.
"There's more of a catchiness." 

Adds Mr. Stevenson: "We wanted to make this record the kind of thing where
if you wanted to get into it and try to really listen to what's being
said, fine, but if you just wanted to put it on and listen to the music - 
you could listen to it both ways. The first record - I don't think people 
just threw that record on at parties, just casual listening. It demanded 
your attention." 

Initiation also can be demanding, but its demands are more subtle, until
the second half of the album. Minions (a live jam with atmospheric guitar,
disembodied vocals and a soft, steady beat that Mr. Lovell borrowed from
Japan's Kodo drummers) and Initiation/The Gate (eight minutes of white
noise) are Course of Empire on the fringes of what Westerners consider
music. 

But even those songs retain organic origins. In fact, Initiation/The Gate
was an accident of technology run amok. The band had left some incorrectly
wired processors and amplifiers turned on in the practice room when the
machines began using the air moving around them to create sound. Luckily,
the band was present and managed to get the "song" recorded. As a result,
Course of Empire had a theme for its new album. 

"You're sitting here and you think nothing is going on," Mr. Stevenson
recalls. "But then when you hear that, you want to rip the fabric and see
what's really happening. It's eye-opening. Just when you think you know 
what's going on, you realize you don't." 

The noisefest is followed by Chihuahuaphile, a sweet little Spanish-guitar
ditty that closes the album on a melodic note. 

Between it and the title track, the expanded vision of Course of Empire
becomes evident. 

"That's just a little joke after all that noise," Mr. Stevenson says.
"After all, we're musicians. We're just guys in a rock band." 

Course of Empire performs at a record-release party at Deep Ellum Live on 
Saturday. Doors open at 8 p.m. The opening bands are Tablet and Trough. 
Tickets are $8. Call Ticketmaster, 373-8000 or metro 647-5700

Photo caption: GROWING EMPIRE: With the launch of its new album,
Initiation, the Dallas band isn't just sitting around.