The almighty riff

Deep in the bowels of a Southeast Portland home, inside a basement covered with bright wood paneling and filled to the brim with drums, guitars and the detritus of various bands, Red Fang are practicing. Or rather, they were.

Deep in the bowels of a Southeast Portland home, inside a basement covered with bright wood paneling and filled to the brim with drums, guitars and the detritus of various bands, Red Fang are practicing. Or rather, they were.

Some stupid journalist just interrupted their rehearsal, and as he fumbles with a digital recorder that never really works the way it was supposed to, the members of the best heavy rock band in Portland are discussing their Internet presence, more specifically, blogging.

This is a new topic for the band, who in their three-plus years of existence have concerned themselves more with writing riffs than updating their Facebook status.

But with a new manager (Cathy Pellow) and a new label (Sargent House), the dudes of Red Fang are gearing up for a sweet spot—a little bit of shine in the national heavy music spotlight on a tour with Clutch, and a national re-release of their first album.

“Most of the people in the world don’t know about us,” says bassist Aaron Beam. “So she’s releasing [the record] like it’s new.”

Culled from two previous tour EPs, the songs on the eponymous debut are stone-cold rockers, with a knack for melody that puts the band in league with the likes of Queens of the Stoneage (pre-suckage) and former Seattle brothers-in-arms Big Business. If you like any sort of rock music, you’ll like Red Fang.

“We have to dumb it down a lot,” says drummer John Sherman. “We’re all recovering super technical music people, so we just have to take things away until it sounds right. All we have to do is find a single, awesome riff and it sounds good.”

Beam describes the writing process in shorter terms:  “Our motto: Keep it simple stupid.”

Red Fang has been in action since 2005, forming mostly from the remains of San Diego band Party Time. They played their first show under the name “Panda” on New Year’s Eve ’05, and have done a bit of touring, and a lot of head banging, ever since.

With most members having spent time in various bands for over a decade, these guys are the quintessential heavy metal lifers. But besides the blood put into songs, what really set Red Fang up in their current cozy situation—label, manager, support staff—was battling in armor suits made of discarded beer cans.

Let me explain.

Last October, the band released a video for “Prehistoric Dog,” which featured, among other things, the dudes launching a Viking-style raid on a group of live action role playing geeks while wearing suits made of beer cans.

Awesome, right? The peeps at Sargent House thought so, hence the recent signing and touring and general awesomeness.

Goals for the band include the often sought “quitting my day job,” but, says guitarist David Sullivan, “Really, it’s just to play heavy music that we like.”

The band is already eight songs into their next album, which they hope to record this summer and release next fall. And while they’re planning on sticking to their winning formula—big-ass guitars, catchy tunes—they’re wary of pigeonholing themselves.

“I don’t want every song to sound the same,” says guitarist Bryan Giles. “I like that we don’t try to restrain ourselves to one sound.”

“The real thing behind the band is that we all just like heavy music,” agrees Beam. “There’s definitely disagreements over stuff sometimes … but that’s what makes it good, we challenge each other constantly.”

So, on the cusp of a big-deal tour, recording an album that is sure to rule—judging by a new song I heard—and continuing rock’s evolution of “The Riff,” Red Fang seem to have one single-minded mission: to rule your eardrums.

“One of the things about this band that is really important, different from a lot of the other bands I’ve played in, and something I’m really proud of,” says Beam, “is that we play shows the same for three people as we do for 30,000 people.”

He pauses before adding, “Not that we’ve ever played for 30,000 people.”

Thorr almighty, let’s hope that happens.