Chapel Hill, North Carolina, has long had a thriving music scene, and it was tipped as a possible Next Seattle in the indie rock gold rush of the 1990s. While the Chapel Hill bands were grouped into a scene, the three most visible bands—Superchunk, Archers of Loaf (who were actually from Asheville), and Polvo—didn’t sound that similar. Superchunk mix more punk into their energetic pop. Polvo swirl progressive rock and Sonic Youth into their noisy, fractured indie rock.
Despite (or perhaps because of) the attention, Superchunk, the biggest band in the scene at that time, had taken purposeful steps to control their destiny, including stepping away from Matador Records to release their 1994 record Foolish on their label Merge Records, which has since become an institution, releasing some of the most important indie rock records of the past 25 years from artists like Spoon, Neutral Milk Hotel, Arcade Fire, and the Magnetic Fields.
Still, labels couldn’t resist chasing the noteworthy bands of the Chapel Hill scene. Archers of Loaf were tipped by many to be the next best option, garnering serious attention from Madonna‘s Maverick Records. Their debut full-length, Icky Mettle, was critically acclaimed and produced a college radio hit, the now-canonical “Web in Front”, which is two minutes of perfection that encapsulates everything that makes indie rock so compelling–inscrutable, smart-ass lyrics with a dollop of sincerity, and jangly guitars. There is a persuasive case for it being the greatest 1990s indie rock song, yet it might not even be the best Archers of Loaf song.
While some Chapel Hill bands made it big for at least a moment, they were not the ones everyone expected. The unlikely mainstream radio successes of Ben Folds Five‘s “Brick”, a song about how inconvenient an abortion is for the boyfriend, and Squirrel Nut Zippers‘ “Hell”, a snappy cautionary tale about going there, are about as telling as any statement I can provide on the strangeness of 1990s popular culture.
Labels like Maverick figured Archers of Loaf had more “Web in Front” in them, but the group had other plans. Their second full-length, Vee Vee, is a defiant statement from a band determined to do their own thing on their own terms. However, even at their catchiest, there is always something in their songs that makes the listener work for it a little; from the distortion to the sometimes inscrutable lyrics, they have never aimed for the top of the charts.
Vee Vee is a triumph of idiosyncrasy, defying expectations throughout and delivering on the promise of Icky Mettle in unexpected ways. As the follow-up to a buzz-building debut, it is the first left turn in a career where each record has a distinct personality, from the subdued All the Nations Airports to the keyboard and barbed, synth-loaded White Trash Heroes to the punk and Americana mashup of their recent reunion record Reason in Decline. Vee Vee is the sound of a group focused on charting their own course rather than aiming for the big break.
Even with the major label interest, there were signs that this was how it would go. Between Icky Mettle and Vee Vee, Archers of Loaf released the incendiary Vs. the Greatest of All Time EP, which leaned into even darker and noisier sounds than the rawest moments of Icky Mettle. The opener, “Audiowhore”, builds slowly before exploding into the angriest-sounding song in their catalog.
The other four tracks are a feedback-heavy burst of pithy lyrics about the industry (“So full of shit / Let’s write some hits / Here comes the A&R, A&R”). The songs retain some pop sensibilities in moments but are just too dark and inside baseball for a mainstream breakthrough, although these five tracks are fan favorites.
The opening number of Vee Vee announces that Archers of Loaf are out to subvert expectations. “Step into the Light” is a pretty, slow burn with a soulful edge, even though it has those trademark discordant guitars breaking through. It is unexpected and disarming. Next is “Harnessed in Slums”, the lead single. It did well on college radio but didn’t break out further. Nevertheless, it is an irresistible, scrappy piece of indie rock, and its chant of “I want waste” recalls the memorable line “All I ever wanted was to be your spine” from “Web in Front”.
While “Harnessed in Slums” has an anthemic quality, its lyrics are withering like the best songs from the Replacements. The references to the thugs and scum and punks and freaks who just want to be free recall “Bastards of Young”, and the line “you let me down for the second time straight” also feels borrowed from the Great Westerberg Songbook. It is irresistible. The video features the band playing in a bingo hall and didn’t make a dent on MTV.
The following tracks, “Nevermind the Enemy”, and “The Greatest of All Time”, each have their own distinct sound. One clear thing is that the group have matured and are coming into their own, charting their own course. They will not be full of shit, writing hits. Archers of Loaf’s jangly guitars have shards of glass, and “Nevermind the Enemy” is an example. Where another band might have cleaned up the feedback in the lead riff, the Erics (lead singer Bachmann and guitarist Johnson) do no such thing. It is this prickliness that endeared them to their fans.
Archers of Loaf had the opening slot on Weezer‘s headlining tour when Vee Vee was released. Weezer were at the height of their first burst of popularity based on the momentum of their Spike Jonze-directed video for “Buddy Holly”. Frankly, most alternative radio fans were not ready for Archers of Loaf. Songs like the blistering Icky Mettle highlight “You and Me” or Vee Vee’s nervy “Underdogs of Nipomo” were not likely to turn up on the same stations with the Weezer nugget on a loop.
Archers of Loaf didn’t curate a setlist of their more accessible songs to win over Weezer fans. I was at the Detroit show on this tour. There were about five of us on the main floor of the State Theater who were more excited for Archers than Weezer, and we found each other pogoing and shouting along to every song. The rest of the audience stood bemused, waiting for the set to be over and for the light-up W logo to be lowered just above the stage to the strains of the Magnum P.I. theme.
Where Vs. The Greatest of All Time took aim at the industry, Vee Vee is more concerned with the mythos of rock stardom, the underbelly of local music scenes, and the rules that both have. It also has a critique of consumerism running through it. That takes center stage on the fourth track, “The Greatest of All Time”, which deals with the exhortation of musicians and the fickleness of the audience.
It has one of Bachmann’s most memorable one-liners (“The underground is overcrowded”) and images of people catching and drowning untalented frontmen and gathering around the radio to hear a transmission from the Devil’s soul. It is a powerful, succinct history of rock stardom wedded with the scene politics that so often emerge and remains one of the essential Archers of Loaf songs. Any introduction to the group without this song is missing something indispensable.
“Underdogs of Nipomo” is another fractured pop song in the vein of “Harnessed in Slums”, but the lyrics target destructive, passive consumerism. Bachmann’s lyrics compile the small purchases that add up to poverty–overdoing it on video games, nachos, and microbrews. However, the energetic verses and taut choruses make what sounds like a scold thrilling. It’s one of the most exciting songs on the record. “Floating Friends” closes the record’s first half on a somber note and, at a slower pace, one of the more accessible tracks.
Vee Vee‘s second half begins with the prelude “1985” to “Fabricoh”, another song that could have been a hit with a little more polish. Instead, it is an in-the-red ripper with a mix of ominous images that ends with a refrain of “rocking out”. Then comes “Nostalgia”, where Bachmann kind of raps the verses, and it sounds closer to one of the punkier experiments on Beastie Boys‘ Check Your Head.
The following two tracks are straightforward indie pop but don’t sacrifice Bachmann’s barbs. “Let the Loser Melt” is a catchy indictment of competitiveness, and “Death in the Park” is even more subdued but no less pointed (“It’s always the same people pissing the same people off”). These songs crackle with a little of Archers of Loaf’s noise, but the hooks make these songs so memorable. Despite their status as sonic outliers, these two songs typify their commitment to creating catchy, beguiling songs that are also ragged and not quite radio-ready.
Vee Vee finishes up with “The Worst Has Yet to Come”, a rager with a killer bass line and insistent guitars, and “Underachievers March and Fight Song”, with its warped call to action “Underachievers, attack at your leisure” and video filled with exploding mannequins and cameos from Superchunk. At a time when many bands hit pay dirt with a clever video and a novelty track, “Underachievers” had a shot at glory. Still, the video is decidedly lo-fi and seems determined to stay out of MTV’s Buzz Bin, a fast track to a moment of notoriety.
The band did sign to a major label for its follow-up, the more subdued All the Nation’s Airports, a record filled with existential dread and slightly more accessible production courtesy of Brian Paulson, who also steered noteworthy albums from Uncle Tupelo, Slint, and Superchunk. It features some of the prettiest songs in Archers of Loaf’s canon, including “Chumming the Ocean” and “Scenic Pastures”, which sounds just enough like “Web in Front” to make an executive salivate. There are also some experiments, like “Distance Comes in Droves”, a glacial, heavy track with foreboding lyrics.
However, Vee Vee didn’t push the band to the next level of success, and their frustration with how things were going is apparent in the song “Form and File”, which features one side of a phone conversation confessing that morale is low and a breakup might be imminent. That weariness is woven throughout White Trash Heroes, the record that ended the first chapter of Archers of Loaf’s story.
It’s an angry album that dares the listener to dive in and revel in its bitterness. It’s heavy with keyboards and culminates with one of the band’s best songs, the seven-minute title track, whose hypnotic keyboard hook provides the backdrop for all the best Bachmann’s lyrics have to offer—images of bored consumerism, “hip half-ravers and techno bars”, and a lost love or friend who has moved on to sleeping with the titular group.
After White Trash Heroes, the group broke up, and Bachmann started his second chapter with the Americana project Crooked Fingers. In retrospect, songs like White Trash Heroes’ “Dead Red Eyes” tipped the musical direction. Crooked Fingers also developed a devoted cult following across several acclaimed records.
Archers of Loaf played occasional reunion shows throughout the 2010s. Finally, they released the timely Reason in Decline in 2022, which takes the best elements of their classic sound and adds a little Crooked Fingers and a healthy dollop of punk aggression. Regarding reunion albums, it is a blueprint for how to do one.
Vee Vee remains a blast of tuneful vitriol aimed at the state of the music industry at the time, but if that were all it had to offer, it wouldn’t have aged as well as it has. The industry is in a much different place than it was 30 years ago. But Bachmann’s observational humor, critiques of consumerism, and the band’s commitment to its unpolished vision are what makes it stand the test of time. While Archers of Loaf aren’t spoken of as frequently as other indie titans of the 1990s, this makes their discography ripe for discovery by the uninitiated.