College-Grown “Jam” Band Chingus Still Thrives in Adulthood

Mark Gonzalez is part of a tight-knit camaraderie of musicians and friends specializing in the earthier side of music. The house parties are typically in a secluded part of Chico, Calif., or his former Midtown home with attendees prone to bare feet and swaying. He’s not in a jam band, but he’s also not denying that his band Chingus won’t deliver a few extended exploratory arrangements in its live set.

Most college-grown start-ups don’t last past graduation, but as it flirts with a decade of band-hood, Chingus carries on by having on and off fits of dedication. All of the members play (or have played) in other bands; outsourcing their talents to Ten Mile Tide, 2me and Dane Drewis’s band, to name a few. There are side projects within the group like The Prize Inside and First Man, a fusion jazz project between drummer Zach Bowden and saxophonist Adam Walter. Gonzalez, the lead guitarist, is a classically trained musician that can play your wedding, bar mitzvah or set up on a stool in your local watering hole. “It helps that everyone has their own job and is well off in their job to a point that we don’t need this band to succeed,” Gonzalez said. “All of us at some point have pulled the ‘I’ll do what I can for now’ card.”

I know what you’re thinking. What’s a “chingus?” I did not hesitate to research its origins, not wanting to make assumptions based on perverted impulses that led me to assume it was a dick joke. Turns out, it is Mexican slang for the male sex organ, but it can also be a colloquial replacement of “do-dad” or “thing-a-ma-bob”–take your pick of silly slang used when you suffer a brain fart and can’t recall an object’s proper name. The third definition, written in September 2003, on urbandictionary.com is “a quality jam band from Chico, Calif.”

Bassist Marcus Schmidt was quick to come clean about the online entry. “I think I have to claim some responsibility for that one. I believe I searched Chingus then saw the definitions, just missing one important definition. Now whoever said ‘they get lots of bitches,’ I would guess that was our manager at the time, Joe Reynolds…quite the sensationalist.”

In the truest relation to its name, the band is neither a thingy that is never defunct nor a full-time job. Saxophonist Adam Walter feels the Urban Dictionary entry speaks of the band’s quasi-cult status as a well-kept secret in the jam scene of Northern California. After forming during its college years at Chico State, Chingus recorded its debut, Butter and You Like It, in 2004. Graduation led to employment, putting Chingus on an unofficial hiatus. The friends played together when possible, never calling it quits, with Gonzalez playing under the Chingus moniker even if only one or two of its members could make the gig. “I think we got a big-picture view,” Walter said. “The group can function without some pieces, say the horns or keys, now and then, but we usually try and make sure everyone can make it nowadays. As work, other bands and life take people across the country from time to time, I think the musical connection that the group has is strong enough to stand the test of time.”

The artistic respect shared amongst the group is enough to inspire outbursts like “why don’t you get a room,” which the band would most likely do and make a lot of jam noise. As for the classification of “jam-band,” Gonzalez joked that until they make a habit of locking themselves in a room and dropping acid (which will never happen), it’s never going to play a significant role in the band’s identity. “‘What’s this going toward?’ is my hope for any jam that we get into,” he said. “The conversation has to make sense. It can’t just exist because we want to jam. If you listen, there’s always a cue to wrap it up, but that cue doesn’t come until a certain energy point is reached. You’re never trying to rush out quick.”

The propensity to jam comes from a musical conversation that’s been established since the fledgling years of Chingus. There are no self-taught wildcards in Chingus. Each member wields a strong musicianship that lends to the dialogue of the jam. “When [keyboardist] Glenn [Keithly] is ripping some insane solo out it will start off soft and conversational, then will work its way into a full on explosion of sound,” Schmidt said regarding the chemistry. “And it is through understanding Glenn’s mad scientist brain that we all instinctively know when a change is coming. That happens with everyone in the band, but with all that said, I try to be the glue.”

Chingus maintains its relevancy like most of its compatriots in the jam scene, by playing for friends who never tire of its music. “Being a Chico band, we lived for playing house parties,” Gonzalez said. “There’s an opportunity for us to play resorts up in Tahoe, but our real exposure still comes from parties in Berkeley, where we’ll sell a couple CDs out of the car.”

Not since college have any of the band mates lived in the same city, which does not seem to bother anyone. “We would hang out together if any of us lived in the same city,” Gonzalez said. “But, that separation makes the times we do get together all the more vital. I love the energy.” With the long-overdue follow-up Whose Chingus near completion, the band is as focused as it’s ever been to embrace these vital coming months. Gonzalez, known as Gonzo to his friends, is planning a move to Columbus, Ohio, in November, which will once again strain the productivity of Chingus. “I think Gonzo is following his heart, and I’m proud of him for that,” Schmidt said. “Who knows where the change will lead him or us. I certainly think we’ll still tour in the spring. It’s just a little bitty plane ride.”

The enigmatic nature of the band makes Whose Chingus a fitting title for its new album. Once again, I know what you’re thinking. No, it’s not a grammatical error; it’s intentionally vague. The actual story behind the title involves baffled state troopers and band paraphernalia, but the unwritten story is how long will Chingus carry on, whether in local infamy or obscurity. No one is comfortable with putting a deadline on Chingus. “As far as I can see, this band will continue to play years from now,” Gonzalez said. His band mates echoed the sentiment that despite the distance they expect to tour in the spring.

2Me Adapts to Any Situation

Life can undo the best made plans. However, those who stay open-minded are able to shift gears without much problem, and often find a change in direction a breath of fresh air. Sacramento’s ever-morphing folk-rock group 2Me seems to thrive under this ethos.

Here’s one example of 2Me’s willingness to go with the flow: When Submerge spoke with 2Me’s drummer and co-founding member Reid Foster, he was standing outside the Rogue Ale’s Public House in snowy Portland, Ore. He and his band—currently consisting of guitarist/bassist Mark Gonzalez and second founding member, singer/guitarist Christopher Twomey—were slated to play a show in either Oregon or Washingon. We asked Foster if they had the situation sorted out. He responded, “No, we didn’t actually. But we’ve got a friend who plays in a Jerry Garcia cover band, and they’re doing a party here tonight, so we’re just going to hang out with them and sit in between their sets.”

Since forming in August 2003, 2Me has seen many musicians come and go. Twomey and Foster have been the band’s only two consistent members. Foster acknowledges that the many comings and goings have made life in 2Me rather challenging, but it has also kept things interesting.

“I think it keeps it pretty exciting, but it also keeps it challenging for us to—you know, you’ve got people learning the songs here and there, or not learning them and winging it,” he explains. “It’s always like we’ve got to keep on our toes with stuff like that, but it’s really fun. There are a lot of times when we’ll hear something we didn’t think we’d hear, and all of us will get that same glimmer in our eyes when we’re on stage like, ‘Damn, that just happened!’ It’s cool.”
Other than Twomey and Foster, the only other constant for 2Me has been momentum. Foster describes their growing fan base as “an ever-growing community of people who’d maybe just met, or maybe known each other for years.”

This community has a chance to grow even larger this holiday season. 2Me is planning on releasing a new album, Chasing Silhouettes the day after Christmas.

You’ve had a lot of members, but 2Me has always been you and Chris, since the beginning.
Yeah, it’s always been at least Chris and myself. We had a couple of guys who were with us the first three years, and they ended up going their separate ways; ever since then it’s been Chris and myself and who ever else is down to play with us. We had a mandolin player named Ken Burnett, who’s toured with us here and there the past couple years. He’s a pretty regular fixture, but he had to take this weekend off and stay home.

Most bands kind of shut down this time of year, but I saw you guys were squeezing in three dates right before Christmas.
That was kind of a random whim. We’d been talking about when to do it, and we were at the Blue Lamp in Sacramento, and the owner was right there and he said, “How about the day after Christmas? It’ll be a great day and blah blah blah”¦” So we figure it’ll be real great for the people who are in town and real bad for the people who aren’t [laughs].

I’d read in your bio that you guys clocked 30,000 miles last year. So I’d imagine you guys play out a lot.
Yeah, we did most of that in one trip. Well, most of it. It was two big trips, but one really, really retardedly big trip. We were just talking about that with someone last night, and Chris was like, “I’d never want to do that again,” and I was like, “Yeah, well, me neither, but it was good—in its own unique way.”

How long were you on the road in those two trips?
Just under five months for the first chunk, and then just a few weeks for the second chunk.

What was that experience like?
It was intense in a lot of ways. It was pretty excessive most of the time; a little mellow some of the time, but you get to a new town and stay there for a couple of days, and if you’re lucky, you have a family for that couple of days that you’ve never met before. We had some really good hangs like that, just staying with people we knew, friends of friends, or sometimes who we just met that night at the bar we were playing. We made some lifelong friends on that trip. It’s really come back around for us full circle already. It was amazing.

Can you think of a specific case where it has come around for you full circle?
Some people we met at a bar in Mizzoula [Mont.] came up to us between sets. It was just Chris and myself, and we’d never been there before, and it was freezing that night. It was kind of a slow night, and these guys tore into the bar and came up to us and said, “We’re doing shots!” So we took a set break and did some shots, and when we finished, we met with them at the bar around the corner and ended up crashing with them for a couple of days. Two of those people have driven through Sacramento a couple of times and crashed at our house. We just saw them a couple of weeks ago, and it turned out that Gonzo [Mark Gonzalez] knew them in some weird random way. It’s really nuts. It’s ridiculous how the dots have connected on that type of level.

The more you go out in the world, the more you realize how small it really is, I would imagine.
That’s for sure. That is a fact if I’ve ever heard one.

Practically speaking, when you were on the road back in 2007, gas prices were around twice as much as they are now. How were you able to handle that?
We definitely had some conversations lately about how we wished we were doing that [touring the country] right now. It wasn’t even a thing. Gas prices had been going up gradually for the last few years. It was like, “Well these are the gas prices. That’s what we’re going to have to pay if we want to go on tour.”

Now that they’ve come down, do you think you’ll hit the road again?
Well, I don’t think we’re going to hit the road that big—or for that long—any time again soon. We’re trying to pull in the reigns and let ourselves get back home and rest every once and a while. But we’ve got some two- and three-week runs just scattered through 2009—just mapping out where we’re going to be and how long we’re going to be. I think it will be less hectic; the excitement will be jam-packed, but we’ll have some breathers here and there instead of just coasting the entire time.

It sounds like that will be a lot healthier.
I think so—on a lot of levels [laughs].

I know I’m jumping all over the place, but how did you and Chris meet up?
One of his younger brothers was a drinking buddy of mine just out of high school. Chris was kind of like the older brother who played guitar, and we’d see him whenever we saw him, and a lot of times it would be at 4 in the morning when all of us were like 30 beers deep… well, that’s an exaggeration, but, you know, at 4 in the morning. We never really knew each other all that well, but we were out at the bar one night, and he was like, “Let’s start a band,” and sure enough it happened a few weeks later. It happened real naturally, and it’s been quite a trip ever since.

What was it like when you first started playing together? Did you think it was going to go anywhere, or were you just doing it for fun at the time?
It was a little bit of both. I was seeing big from day one, and Chris was seeing big too. He was like, “Woah, it would be crazy if that happened,” and I was more like, “Let’s make it happen!” It’s been really interesting to see how realistic those dreams were in some ways, and how unrealistic the were in others, because we had no idea what we were doing when we first started playing. We always were seeing big, at the very least, and looking at the way things have gone, and it’s been a pretty cool journey.

What were you thinking that turned out to be unrealistic?
I think maybe it was unrealistic, I think we just didn’t collectively know what it took to realize the things that we wanted to be doing. There’s a lot of work that goes into it, and sometimes it takes a while to figure out how to do it—not to mention what that work actually is [laughs].