Interviewed by: allyson Beth

It's strange how much a live performance can influence the way a band's listeners perceive their music. It's even stranger how little we notice it until a show almost ruins it for us. As a big fan of The Juliana Theory, a seemingly friendly small five-piece emo band from Latrobe, Pennsylvania, I was excited when I heard they were coming to San Francisco…and it wasn't just San Francisco. It was Slims, the best venue in the Bay Area - perfectly sized (small, but not too small), voted best Bar/Club in San Francisco by the San Francisco Chronicle and best nightclub in America for five of the last eleven years by Pollstar - and they give you free water! On top of the amazement of one of my favorite bands at one of my favorite venues, I was anxious to see them reflect the progression they had made from their first and second releases (Understand This Is A Dream in 1999 and Emotion Is Dead in 2000) to their latest EP, Music From Another Room. I expected great things.

Never having seen them live before, I had my own preconceived notions of how they should perform - as we all do prior to a first show. I assumed I'd see a bunch of shaggy-haired skinny boys hunched timidly over their guitars and mikes, singing their emo songs with pre-rehearsed energy. There ended up being more honest energy in the band than had been expected (however, as usual, the crowd stood unenthusiastically, tapping their chest with one hand and swaying their shaggy black hair ever-so-slightly). Their set was a great mix of all three albums; the crowd rallied for the less mature, but nevertheless awesome Duane Joseph from Understand This Is a Dream, and I was impressed with Understand the Dream is Over from Emotion is Dead - a perfect demonstration of their growth from whining about girls in UTIAD to the poetic story telling in true emo fashion of EID. Into the Dark was the one song that fed Brett Detar, the lead singer, exactly what he was hungry for: praise. Like most bands do, they too "play off the audience, getting as much a high off of them as they get off [the show]" as Chad Alan, their bassist claims; but there's a definite line between "playing off the audience" and getting downright cocky from it. Generally, the majority of the band carried through with the ideal I had created for them - however, the Brett Detar proved otherwise.

Sure it's a given - we all know the importance of stage presence: yeah Mick Jagger is huge because the Rolling Stones rock, but much of their sell-out concerts has to be attributed to his ability to rule the stage. That's all fine and good, but Brett Detar is not Mick Jagger, nor is Juliana Theory the Rolling Stones. But try telling him that….I'm sure wouldn't want to be the one to burst his bubble. He seems to truly believe that he is some kind of prophetic rock star. Chad alleges "Mick Jagger is the most pretentious frontman." And so it is true. Funny these parallels drawn, isn't it? A friend warned me before the show that Brett was "way rock star". I tried to ignore this and wondered if maybe my quickly agreeing opinion wasn't completely my own; but as the show progressed and as I look back on it now, whether I had been told that before hand or not, I would still be completely annoyed with his false persona of 'cool'.

Set the scene: He enters the stage in true "emo rock star" fashion - the band is on, leading the intro to the first song. In his tight 70's jeans and button down western shirt, he walks on slowly as the lights are lifting, his back to the audience, keeping time with his cowboy boots and his slim shaking ass, swinging his hair and the microphone. (That mike came within inches of hitting the person beside me.) Finally, he turns around and replaces the mike in the stand and caresses it like his girlfriend, screaming frustratedly into a mike that's not even on (which although not his fault, certainly didn't help matters at all). Then, as if he's so hot from one short song, he pours an entire bottle of water over his head, flinging the excess of it from his hair into the audience. After the second song, he comments on the ambiance of the crowd. "You're so quiet. You all seem mesmerized. … well, of course you're mesmerized, we are THE JULIANA THEORY!" he deducts. Yeah, maybe true. Or maybe it's because you're playing to a crowd of 300 people, half of which are screaming 12 year olds in love with your body. I don't know. Maybe that's just my conclusion that I've come to completely inaccurately, even though when I looked to my left and right, all there was were girls with shirts exclaiming "I Love TJT" and pins on their backpacks claiming "Girls love The Juliana Theory". He must have failed to notice that it wasn't so much mesmeration as much as it was pure annoyance with his attitude. At the end of the third song (well, every other song, really…) he stood on stage, head facing up, arms spread - imitating either a super hero, or Christ - which one, I have yet to figure out; but there didn't seem to be a cape attached to his back, so it must be Christ.

In response to comments on the haughtiness of the performance, Chad viewed it in two ways: 1. "People can easily construe Brett's performance in that way. He's big, he's 6'3". He's going to have a commanding presence." (Yeah, I'm sure it's his height that forces him to dance around like Mick Jagger, pouring water on his head) and 2. "The emphasis people put on the performance is huge, especially in this scene we've been thrown into where the show is supposed to fit into a pigeon hole." Too bad you've chosen to throw yourselves into that scene by playing out that pigeon-holed format to it's fullest extent). So, no - these excuses just don't seem to accurately assess why Brett finds it necessary to stand in the middle of the stage, arms spread like a Christ figure, pretending to be the visionary rock star he isn't.

So, sure they've been hailed as "the next big thing" in numerous reviews, and sure they are…by all means, don't get me wrong on this: The Juliana Theory is one of the best emo bands on the scene; if you haven't already, get your hands on one or all of their albums immediately - but if you're hoping for an intimate, honest show of emotion, don't see them live. If you're hoping for a band's desperate attempt to define themselves by the scenester confines of a pretentious genre, then this is your show. Maybe it is true what their bassist says - "fans base too much on a live performance when what it's really about is the music." But the fact remains that a pompous and exaggerated frontman can ruin it all. So as soon as Brett Detar either a) grows up beyond his showy and fake rock star persona or b) realizes he's Brett Detar playing Slim's, not Mick Jagger playing the Hollywood Bowl, then I will be the first in line to buy tickets, and would suggest you do the same.

Allyson Beth for Crud Magazine© 2002
                                                                                                                     ~Crud Magazine