The Band That Changed My Life: Norman Mayer Group

The Band That Changed My Life: Norman Mayer Group

I got inspired to contribute a post after reading my friend Andy’s on the band 1905. It is incredibly difficult to just choose one band to talk about, but when I think about the most urgent music I found at the most vital time, I can’t help but go to Washington, DC’s Norman Mayer Group.

Norman Mayer Group ( Washington DC Punk and Hardcore Archive) — photo by Henry Rich, 1994

I first saw them when I was 17, in 1995–96. I lived in the DC metropolitan area, and was a senior in high school. I was falling in love with heavy music and punk, but also grew up deeply passionate about rap and hip-hop. I had long been listening to Nirvana, Sleater-Kinney and Bikini Kill, and had attended a few Fugazi shows. Fugazi quickly became my favorite live band, and I cannot adequately communicate the pivotal role they played in our community and in my own development.

I went to a Positive Force Fugazi show in a church basement in Washington, DC. These were both common and magical occurrences in my young life. I was also starting to play music myself at this time, and I felt like worlds were being opened up for me. These kinds of spaces also brought me in contact with a lot of powerful social justice organizing and activism. They politicized me in ways I am forever grateful for.

On this particular day, I knew nothing about the opening band — Norman Mayer Group. I stood transfixed as this powerhouse band with two incredible women commanded the crowd. I can still remember the riffs of Seven Eight (first track on the full album, which you can hear here). Kathy and Jen, guitar/vocals and bass/vocals respectively, had a back and forth style that I couldn’t take my eyes off of. The music was metal — heavy, mathy at times, but also plaintive and emotive. Their vocals acted as pitch-perfect counterpoints to one another. Greg, the drummer at the time (previously the band had another fantastic drummer named Kathy, too) was powerful and in the pocket.

I was sold. I was in.

I bought their tape at the time, and then found their previous seven inches. A red one, a yellow one, and a blue one. Along with my first bandmate Bonnie, who I later co-founded my record label with, I followed them everywhere like a mega-fan. I have fond memories of going to see them play and then staying up late with Bonnie, dreaming of songs and music of our own.

Eventually I worked up the courage to invite them to one of my band Bald Rapunzel’s shows. DC was a special kind of place at this time, where you really could talk to the people who were inspiring you. Kathy and Jen both came out to one of our shows, and it meant more to Bonnie and me than I can express.

Not only did these people inspire me and make me know in my heart and gut that I was meant to make music — loud, weird, mathy, complex and nuanced music — but they also became friends of mine. Kathy is currently the webmaster for my label’s website, sixteen years later, and I have had the honor of releasing two of her solo records under the label (take a look here).

On a funny note, the first time I met Ian MacKaye after deeply admiring his work was at a small backstage show at the Black Cat. Norman Mayer Group was playing. I was sitting alone, and he asked if he could join me at the table. I was a bit shy since I looked up to him so much, but also slightly distracted because a band I was in love with was about to play. I remember saying to him, “Are you Ian MacKaye?” He nodded yes. I said, “It’s great to meet you. I love Fugazi.” He thanked me, and I added, “Do you know what else I really love? That you put out this band and had them open for you. Because that’s how I found them.”

He had the best grin.

Whenever I put their full length In Memory of Norman Mayer on, I am transported to the time when I heard the band I needed to hear at the moment I needed to hear them. I am pretty sure they are why, over two decades later, I still play loud music with my whole heart and being. I am forever moved by them.