Scroat Belly will perform an early show at Kirby's Beer Store this Friday, July 12 at 6 p.m. to celebrate the group's 30th anniversary. (Saturday, the quartet performs at The Granada in Lawrence.)
Formed in the era of so-called y'allternative music, which fused elements of rock and classic country, Scroat Belly brought together guitarists Kirk Rundstrom and Wayne Gottstine (both shared vocal duties) and the rhythm section of Mitch Clay (bass) and John Ezell (drums). After an initial go with a six-piece lineup, the streamlined version established itself as a powerhouse live act and issued two albums, "The Great Alaskan Holiday" and "Daddy's Farm."
The latter was issued on Chicago's self-proclaimed home of insurgent country, Bloodshot Records. The label claimed the record would be the most polarizing recording it would ever release. But if it seemed that Scroat Belly was about to truly hit the big time, it wasn't to be. Rundstrom had started tinkering with a side project, Split Lip Rayfield (which Gottstine would later join) while some of his bandmates attended to domestic responsibilities.
The group reunited for intensive touring in 2006 after Rundstrom was diagnosed with esophageal cancer and continued to perform after his death in 2007. The contemporary version of Scroat Belly is rounded out by Split Lip's Eric Mardis who adds guitar and vocals.
Gottstine recently spoke with KMUW about the band's history, its future, and some mysterious cans of beans.
This interview has been edited for clarity and length.
Take me back to when Scroat Belly formed in 1994.
Kirk and I had been in Technicolor Headrush together, we'd been in Winking Spaniard together. Kirk had started this new project and I had started a new project. He called his Scroat Belly, I called mine Hula Popper. I had John Ezell on drums and Mitch Clay on bass. We merged those two bands and became Scroat Belly.
There was initially a six-piece version of the band, though, right?
We had a mandolin player and a banjo player and we were a little more acoustic country/folk-punk, then we just became [a] demonic heavy band within a year of that. [Laughs.] We couldn't be restrained.
The year 1994 was a cool one for music. There was a lot happening at that time. Were you all inspired by that?
In '93 I had a band-new baby. I was listening to some music but mostly we were creating this new thing. We didn't have time to be caring what anybody else did. We were just working on our thing and playing as much music as possible. And, of course, I was being a young father at the same time. While there was a lot of great music happening around the '90s, I wasn't listening to it.
People often say, "Make the music you want to hear" and it seems that you were very much doing that.
When we first started out Kirk and I were roommates and we were just riffing off each other all the time. If he'd write a song, then I'd come back with a song. If I'd show up with a song, then he'd come back with a song. We probably threw away 50 songs that you'll never hear again. We were writing so many songs at that time. It was a truly creative time in our lives. It launched Split Lip as well.
I think I heard you describe Scroat Belly as "country music from hell." You all had that influence from country music but you also all listened to heavier stuff at some point.
The first seven or eight years of my life was defined by AM country radio, specifically KFDI in Wichita. I got a heavy diet of that. Then I discovered Barry Manilow. I was, like, "Whoa, alright!" Then I heard Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Up Around the Bend." I thought that was the heaviest rock. I thought, "Wow, this is heavy." Then I discovered Kiss and then I discovered Led Zeppelin and it was all over.
How did audiences react early on to what Scroat Belly was doing?
They loved it instantly. It was really quite exciting, those first couple of years of Scroat Belly. It felt like we were doing something brand-new. Nobody else was doing what we were doing. We were making really fun music and people were having a good time and coming to our shows. It was just a really creative, fun time. We did come out with aggressive shows but there was also a party atmosphere to it. It wasn't mean and aggressive. It was party and aggressive.
The band had a relatively short existence in that first run. There were two albums, "The Great Alaskan Holiday" and "Daddy's Farm," a lot of touring, and then it just kind of stopped.
Everybody had so many kids. John has five kids. They're all grown up now. But it was just a big juggle and all kind of fell apart. Then Split Lip emerged from the ashes of that.
It's funny because I think one of the first times I met Kirk Rundstrom, around 2004 or 2005, he said, "I'm going to get Scroat Belly back together." It's like this thing that you can't escape.
No, you can't. Mitch Clay is a person I've jammed with longer than anyone. I've been playing music with him for 35 years. It's so much fun when we get together. Now, we have Eric Mardis in the band and that's been a lot of fun to have two guitars back in the band. I love jamming with John and Mitch and Eric. We have a great time every time we get together.
Let's just spend a moment on that rhythm section of John and Mitch. It's one of my favorite rhythm sections anywhere. There's a real sense of danger to it.
[Laughs.]. There is. Nobody plays bass like Mitch Clay. He's a monster. John Ezell is another beast. I don't think anybody could even learn Mitch's bass lines. They're that complicated and that stratospheric. John's drumming is a driving force. When we get together we just take [it] to another level.
You've obviously played with Eric in the Split Lip context for decades now but this is different because you're both on guitar.
It's been a lot of fun trading solos back and forth with Eric. I've been playing guitar [for] 45 years, Eric's been playing guitar for 40 years. It's fun to just throw down and get off.
You're doing this gig at Kirby's and I'm guessing that was a place you played early on and probably a great deal as Scroat Belly.
That's the reason that I picked Kirby's to do this show. We have so much history there. There's so much history with so many people in Wichita. It just felt like the perfect place to do it.
What did it mean to you as a young musician to have a venue like Kirby's where you could book a gig and know that people were going to turn up and that they were going to listen?
I'm so grateful for Kirby's Beer Store. I cut my teeth in that building. I met so many people there. Kirk and I met there, playing shows with different bands. It's a great [place] for artists of any age to go and get started. They will give you a chance. You don't have to be a megastar to get a gig there. You can be some young, new player and get a gig there. You can find a community there. I'm incredibly grateful for a place like Kirby's beer store.
There are a number of unreleased Scroat Belly songs. Do you have any interest in making another record with the band?
It's possible. The music industry is so weird right now. It's hard to sell CDs. Everything is streaming. For a band of level, we're going to lose money on a recording. I would never rule out that we would put out another record. I've always got stuff laying around to record. But John lives in Cincinnati now so we only play three or four shows a year now. But I'll take three or four shows over zero shows anytime.
I've seen these cans with the Scroat Belly label on them. And there's beans inside? What was going on with that?
I came up with the idea of Scroat Belly brand beans. Steve Barnes, our banjo player in the original lineup, took my terrible original drawing and turned it into a label for a can. We went and bought a bunch of cans of beans and repackaged them and sold, I don't know, a hundred cans of pork and beans. It was real silly.
And today you can go to a show and a band will have products like that. The bass player's got a hot sauce or the drummer's got their own soap. You were ahead of your time.
We really were! We really were ahead of our time. Nobody has beans.
