Skill is Dead: Teenage Death Star give a suitably chaotic performance. (JP/Gita Mayanetta)

These 21st century boys are on a long road to nowhere.

Like the threat of that suitcase bomb we’ve all been constantly reminded to worry about for the past eight years, the hasty, haphazard Teenage Death Star pack a devastating amount of power into a diehard, minimalist operation.

The band’s logo, a wildcat with giant fangs, reflects Teenage Death Star’s sound – fierce and dangerous, it pounces swiftly with all the might it can muster.

Their live sets are a lesson in chaos – the participation of as many people as possible is key.

At a recent gig in Kemang’s Prost, the separation between audience and band had melted by the end of the first number, as a swirling group of raging fans engulfed the stage.

A microphone was passed around to anyone who wanted to take a turn helping out with vocals (knowing the words is not prerequisite), and members moved about the bar as if it was their living room; standing, sitting and jumping off furniture.

“We didn’t practice. We didn’t do a sound check. We just showed up and played,” vocalist Sir Dandy Harrington said of the gig.

The fact that he lives in Jakarta along with guitarist Alvin and drummer Firman – while guitarist Helvi and bassist Sat NB reside in Bandung (where the band formed in 2002) – doesn’t help, but the plug-and-play approach is probably better attributed to the band’s ethos: “Skill is Dead”.

“We have nothing to do with skill,” Sir Dandy explains. “Me, Alvin and Hellvi had never been in a band. Satrio [Sat NB] was the vocalist in Pure Saturday [he plays bass in this outfit], so only Firman was a ‘real’ musician,” he says, laughing.

“So we came up with ‘Skill is Dead’ because it represents the idea that we have nothing. We have no skill, but we also have nothing to fear and nothing to lose, so why not go ahead? Skills don’t matter – only passion.”

The approach has worked. It may have taken the band almost eight years to put out an album – although they did appear on the Jakarta Sekarang compilation in 2004 with “I kissed your sister in the kitchen” and “Johnny in my head”, which was also featured on the soundtrack to director Nia Dinata’s film Janji Joni – but their influence is undeniable.

Their début Longway to Nowhere was released last year. With nine songs, clocking in at well under 30 minutes, it needs to be played twice for proper enjoyment. Or you can listen to disc two, Teenage Mother Father, a compilation of other “underrated” bands covering Teenage Death Star’s choicer cuts.

Santa Monica’s Josed Saryuf produced the album and originally offered to put it out on his label, Sinjitos. Teenage Death Star offered a polite “no thank you,” as Hellvi owns and operates FFWD (fast forward) records, the label through which the velvet-covered package, which includes a 50 page booklet, is available.

The effort saw Juice magazine name Teenage Death Star as 2008’s band of the year. Sir Dandy

seems genuinely dumbfounded by the accolades.

“It’s very, very crazy, I don’t know why, I don’t know what it is that makes everyone follow this band, because we don’t play many gigs and we live in separate cities. I think the Internet has had a lot to do with it,” he says.

“We are really surprised that people appreciate us. The music is very easy – it’s not anything skilful, but we appreciate it from the bottom of our hearts and we are very surprised.”

Dandy does offer one possibility – “maybe [it’s] because of the performances, because a performance of Teenage Death Star stays with the audience. The spirit, the nothing-to-lose ethos – just do something, anything – maybe people appreciate that.”

Teenage Death Star makes a concerted effort to keep things small. “We love playing small gigs, because, well … you saw it …” Indeed, there is no way the atmosphere of the gig could be recreated in a larger venue.

“We have played a few big gigs, but we don’t like them because the stage is too big. There are the barriers between us and the crowd, and we can’t feel anything – it’s like we are puppets or something, or that we are in a cage and people have paid to come and see us,” he says, adding slyly, “We love to make people to come into the cage with us [!] … Its more fun that way.”

The anarchy has gotten them into trouble before. “The first time we played in Surabaya we only played three songs and the club owner called out ‘CUT!’ and told us to ‘stop, stop, stop’ and we were like, ‘We came all the way from Jakarta and you’re only going to let us play three songs?’”

Not everyone appreciates the ability to make the iGeneration move, apparently.

Popular

No more motorcycles for free meals program, says Purbaya

Hotels see insignificant surge during Idul Fitri holiday

Authorities raid illegal nitrous oxide storage amid abuse concerns