Wednesday, June 9, 1999 | 3:04 a.m.
This article first appeared on July 15, 1998.
Mama Zeus surrounds me, flopping down on the mismatched sofas and chairs brought into their rehearsal space to give the industrial room some character. Guitarists Charlie Vantine and William McCleary sit to my left, bassist Kyle Adoor and drummer Vinnie Castaldo sprawl to my right. Vocalist Nicole Sottile, the group's focal point by virtue of a smoldering look that beggars poster-sizing (and they will reach that plateau), sits facing me directly.
"What were you doing before I got here half an hour late?" I ask.
"We were working on some new material," says Sottile. "Vinnie had some riffs that caught my fancy, and he was just showing them to the guitar players."
"You guys always rehearse this way?" The room is completely lit by candles, scented by incense.
"We do everything this way," says Castaldo.
Mama Zeus probably doesn't think of itself as a soul outfit. After all, their roots are deep in rock and roll, specifically the rock and roll of the late sixties: the candles, the incense, the flowing locks, the power chords supple enough to carry passengers. They've assimilated (and modernized) so much Led Zeppelin, Janis Joplin and Jefferson Airplane that they've become their own Woodstock - a scrapbook of tried and true, arranged backward and sideways into a striking groove-rock collage.
"It's only going to happen once this century," says Castaldo. "All those great bands of the sixties and seventies. That's why we're doing this."
"How many Zeppelin records do you own?" I ask.
"All of them," says Sottile.
"You want a bootleg? Name a year," says Castaldo.
The soul is there. No matter what you make of Mama Zeus right off, whether you focus on Vantine and McCleary's dueling leads or Sottile's deep-hearted vocals, the soul is what stays with you. Close your eyes to listen the right way, and it becomes clear.
IMPROMPTU FOR DAT AND VOX
Mama Zeus' independently produced debut, Inside #21, is a raw diamond. >From the tough guitars that announce "Prayer for You" to Sottile's heartfelt delivery of "If Only" to the sly psychedelia of the title track (the sexy spin Sottile gives the question "Where's my Mary Jane?" damn near compels you to hunt some up), there's so much shiny stuff here that it blinds you to the flaws in the production. Castaldo has high hopes for a studio he's built inside an upstairs room in his home.
"We're going to do some work with Guy Marshall; he does music for Baywatch," says Castaldo. "He's going to add some production touches to tracks we've got laid down already; it's kind of a 'look and see' kind of deal. We're excited that somebody that successful is interested enough to spend a week working with us for nothing."
As excited as Castaldo is about Marshall, the band seems content enough to have a space to create a sound free of compromise. Proof of this optimism comes during Castaldo's birthday party, when he offers to play some new instrumental tracks for me. Sottile follows us into the booth, and accords a rare treat: while the band's wall of sound roars from the speakers, crisp and brilliant, Sottile sings the vocals live, closing her eyes to peer into the grooves and pull the soul from them.
PHOENIX
"There was a lull," says Sottile of the group's reincarnation, deliberately understanding the severe end of Mama Zeus version one. Less than a month after guitarist and chief songwriter Rich Hughes decided toleave the group, the band's instruments and gear was stolen from their previous rehearsal space, the "#21" of the album's title.
"We were ready to throw in the towel," says Sottile.
"I did throw in the towel," Adoor interjects.
"Yeah, but he came back around," Sottile grins. "After he heard Bill and Chuck."
Vantine and McCleary bumped into Castaldo at Mad Dogs and Englishmen Pub, where the percussionist was playing with Beatles tribute group The Fab. Originally Vantine auditioned alone, but his longstanding friendship with McCleary made Mama Zeus a twin-guitar band in short order.
"We're both lead guitar players," says Vantine. "It's natural; we just shift the spotlight."
"Do you wanna hear something funny?" asks Sottile. "Just after I tried to talk Rich into coming back I went to Cost Plus to get some wine, and I picked up some fortune cookies. I opened one up, and it read 'Behind every able man are other able men.' I was crying, and I said, 'Maybe that means we'll get two guitar players.'
"I saved that fortune," she adds. "Call me fuckin' weird or superstitious, but I save those things."
HOT MAMA
The band freely admits that a good part of their appeal stems from the comely, wavy-haired sex symbol that anchors the group. But let's put Vinnie aside for a moment.
"I think the latest one I heard was 'Mama Juggs'," I inform Sottile.
"God," she moans.
"It really pisses me off, 'cause I think I'm prettier," deadpans Adoor. "My body's better, my legs are nicer...."
"Better tits for sure," Sottile chimes in. "I'll say this forever: We're a band. I'm like one of the guys, not treated specially or differently. Without the band, I couldn't be doing this, and they couldn't do what they do without me. We're equals."
NIGHTS OF THE LIVING
To appreciate Mama Zeus, you really have to see them perform. And to see them completely and utterly in their element, see them perform surrounded by the Deadhead memorabilia at Legends. They play equally stellar gigs at other local venues, but jamming under the many images of Jerry, they seem completely and utterly at home.
True to their word, they bring the candles and incense to every gig, suffusing the room with imported comfort. Sottile kicks off her shoes and performs barefoot. It's a curious thing - particularly for a scene that could be called almost anything but sensitive and conscientious - but Mama Zeus's homey vibe really works. More often than not, the crowd gets in phase with the band almost immediately. (The process may be accelerated by Sottile's plan to serve champagne at every gig. "It worked so well at the album release party," she says, grinning.)
Candlelight notwithstanding, Mama Zeus has weathered its share of tough crowds.
"Some of the audiences are pretty bad," says McCleary. "This town isn't very supportive of local music."
"They watch it like TV," says Vantine.
"Not exactly hostile, but some nights they've been like zombies, calling for brains," says Sottile. "Playing Legends is always cool. But other times I've felt like, 'Show me'."
"We're playing to please ourselves, rather than thinking about what everyone else is going to make of our sound," say Castaldo. "Not concentrating on that 'sure sound' that's going to get us a deal.
"Although," he adds, "we'd love to get one."
"It's hard to tell what the sure-bet sound is anymore," says McCleary. "It changes every ten minutes."
"We know there are people out there who are into our sound," says Sottile firmly. "We just have to reach them. If it ever comes time to quit, yeah, I think we'll know it. But we're hanging in there."
Mama Zeus's CD Inside #21 is available from the band's website: http://www.mamazeus.com.
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