"What the hell is The Hillary Step?" "Who the hell is The Hillary Step?"
"Why the hell are you called The Hillary Step?" "Will someone pass the
damn salt?" As members of the acoustic pop/rock band, The Hillary Step,
we find ourselves confronted with these questions from well-meaning fans
all the time. The answer, in a word, is that Rob and Jon had been
writing songs together since they were six and six, respectively.
Sometimes they would perform their songs and other times they wouldn't.
They met at a haberdashery in New Mexico where they lived off the land
and the immigrants. It was love/hate at first sight. Armed with two
voices and a guitar, they sought artistic expression under the name
"Identical Triplets" and hit the New Mexican road.
Nothing was panning out and Rob began to fear no one was getting his
musical pun on the word "triplets" so, armed with two voices and a
guitar, they started playing pubs, bingo parlours, and churches in the
Bible Belt and changed their name to "Abortion Clinic." After several
incidents of spontaneous violence breaking out at shows, including one
where Jon got the "h" knocked right out of his first name, they decided
to change their moniker, expand into a full band, and move to New York
City. Armed with two handguns and an uzi, they were determined to make
it this time.
Rob, the youngest of three sisters, and Jon, a reformed Mennonite who
can't complete a sentence without waxing scatological, set their sights
on a lanky bass player whose relentless pirouetting got him thrown out of
culinary school. He also happened to be Rob's younger, more popular
roommate. But just who is John Galt? We don't know, none of us ever
finished that book, but we can tell you a little something about Matthew
Dunne. Matthew hails from Taxicab, Tennessee where he actually knows
people with missing teeth. Although he has an IQ of 167, Matthew readily
admits to being puzzled by cheese. He was immediately labeled "the cute
one" by his mother and joined the band 24 hours later.
It was Jon's suggestion that we bring in a female singer. "My thinking,"
Jon says, "was twofold. A) we could explore the use of lush three part
harmonies in our music, and b) Rob would stop grabbing my nuts when we
got to the high notes." Enter Suzanne Morris. "They had worked briefly
with another woman before I joined but she died suddenly and tragically
in a freak paper airplane accident" explains the plucky blonde/redhead
with a robust smile. "Her death really kick-started my career."
Suzanne, a simple girl for whom humus is "that crazy food from Asia
(sic)," has goals beyond the top 40. At some point before I die," she
offers without noticing no one asked, "I want to memorize all the words
to 'We Didn't Start the Fire' and then sing them while torching the
Museum of Natural History."
"Adding a second guitarist seemed like the logical next step." Rob
Schiffman speaks. "Sort of like a sky diver stepping out of the plane
before he has a chance to put on a parachute." Rob knew just who he
wanted, too. He called an old friend with whom he remembered sharing a
laugh once, and a woman twice. A guitar player of limited ability and
limitless guile, Joe DeGise II was a man who would soon come to be known
local-wide as "the other guy in that band. No, not him...no...no...yeah,
him." Joe always loved rock 'n' roll, yet still entered the band with
some reservations. Today he says candidly, "I had some reservations" and
promptly leaves the room. "I think Rob added another guitar so he could
blame somebody else for his mistakes" posits Herb Pointek, a man
unconnected to the band in any way and in fact, no one knows who he is or
how his quote made it onto this page. Armed now with three voices, two
guitars and bass, the new band was called "The Nostril Conspiracy" and we
set out to convince audiences that we didn't need a drummer in order to
rock. Audiences remained unconvinced though, and we continued to go
through a series of name changes that included "Phlegm and the Cough
Drops," "Banana Republicans," and even "Drummer? We Don't Need No
Stinkin' Drummer."
After playing 13 gigs in as many years, the band broke down and voted to
finally add drums to the mix. Rob and Jon both knew exactly what kind of
drummer would put their fledgling band (now called "The Chaos Factory")
on the rock 'n' roll map. Jon remembers: "Rob and I were working on
what would later become "(Girl, Lovin' You is Like Eating) Salty
Pancakes." I told him that this song would need a real heavy arrangement
and at the exact same time, we looked at each and said 'we need a
vegan-vegetarian, lesbian drummer from Canada in our band!'"
At the outset of the band's first rehearsal with Melissa Houston, we were
called "Applaud Now" (Suzanne thought it would be cute when we were
introduced at gigs--"Ladies and Gentlemen..."). By the end of it, we
changed the name to "Melissa and the Houstons." Things shifted into high
gear with the addition of Melissa. Before, without a drummer keeping a
rock steady beat, people couldn't really dance to the band's music. Now
with Melissa on board, the songs were easily danceable, but still nobody
wanted to.
It wasn't long before the band, now called "Sonic Aneurysm",
enthusiastically signed with a record company headed by a rapacious
carnivore who ate children for breakfast and then anxiously waited to
belch, just for a second taste. we all found the recording process more
fun than an ice pick in the ear. In fact, we enjoyed it so much that we
refused to stop doing it. Two years and all our money later, we split
from the record company, sexually assaulted our producer, Zee, and
brought in a part-time lead guitarist whose name is a constellation.
Suzanne apartment-sat, Rob moved to a room with a view, Matthew searched
in vain for a rehearsal studio, Jon cried into his checkbook, Joe drove
to India, Melissa had a nervous breakdown, and Knee Deep in Giants was
born.
Originally titled "Songs From My Ass," the album is an eclectic
collection of songs guaranteed to not only arrest the listener's
attention, but read it the Miranda rights as well. Knee Deep in Giants
is a roller coaster ride of human apathy. Jon does some heavy
soul-searching in the dark, brooding "Lost Cuticle." Rob counters with
the Reggae/Jazz/Metal/C & W/Baroque/Gospel/Funk of the ironic, yet
buoyant toe-tapper, "Melted Butler," and then look out. Matthew's George
Harrison comes knocking confidently on the door of Rob and Jon's Lennon &
Mc Cartney with his 12 minute meditation, "Femur." The album is a joy,
if we do say so ourselves.
Five minutes before the release of the CD, we decided to call the band
The Hillary Step, named after the legendary borscht-belt comic, Nipsey
Russell.
That's the story of the band. Sometimes success can seem like Mt.
Everest and for us it's been a long, difficult climb. Armed with three
voices, 2 1/2 guitars, bass, drums, loyal fans, moxy, and a new CD, we
feel like the summit of that afore mentioned mountain is only a step
away.
