Friday, October 24, 1997

311 - It's One Hot Number (Omaha World Herald, 1997)‏

     "What's in a name?"            Ask Nick Hexum, and the lead vocalist and songwriter for 311 will give you a straight answer, which wasn't always the case.
           "We used to tell people that three minutes and 11 seconds was the perfect length for a song," Hexum said. "We used to say it meant three plus one plus one, which was true."
           "And P-Nut said it was the total every time he ate at Taco Bell."
           As 311 became more popular, questions about the monkier rivaled the riddle of the Sphinx. Hexum and his mates - Omaha natives Chad Sexton, Tim Mahoney, Aaron "Pnut" Wills and Doug "SA" Martinez - rarely divulged that P-Nut came up with the name and that it refers to the code for a police call for indecent exposure.
           The band was known as the Fish Hippos until the spring of 1990, when Hexum said he wanted a change.
           "I wasn't going to be in a band with that name. I just wanted a boring name," Hexum said.
           The band has been anything but boring - 311 has moved from being an obscure buzz band from Nebraska to being an industry buzz-word. It's synonymous with an all-frills, party-hardy musical approach. To legions of fans cast to cast, 311 is No. 1.
           "They're huge," said Diana D'Amato, a music programmer at the influential rock giant KROQ-FM in Los Angeles. "They are a great sounding, fun band. And it's not only their style, it's their look."
           Now in their mid-20's, the boys who left Omaha, guitar cases filled with hopes and funky riffs, are now men basking in the warmth of Hollywood stardom.
           Five years after moving into a cramped, three-bedroom house in Van Nuys, Calif., 311 has sold enough CD's to pay the bills and then some. The band's latest recording, the self-titled "311", has been certified double platinum (2 million units sold), and it's home video, "Enlarged to Show Detail," has been a fixture on the Top 10 sales chart.
           "In the entertainment industry, there is a potential to make a lot of money and potential to struggle," Martinez said. "It's a gamble and we took a gamble."
           Hexum, Martinez, Sexton and Mahoney live within a mile of each other in the hills of Laurel Canyon, not far from P-Nut's digss in West Hollywood, off the Sunset Strip.
           "We were a family when we lived together," said Martinez, who lives in a rustic, 1920's duplex filled with antique furnishings and contemporary artwork. "Things will never be the same, but it's nice that we have different places."
           Last fall, Hexum became the group's first homeowner when he purchased a tri-level Spanish villa with a million-dollar view.
           "Rent's a waste of money and I want something solid," Hexum said, relaxing on a couch in his modest, but tastefully decorated living room while his 4-month-old puppies, a miniature Pinscher and a Doberman, played cat and mouse.
           "I'll always have this place. I'm going to pay it off as quick as I can just so that I know, if all else fails, if I lose my vocal chords and my hands, I'll have this house and my dogs."
           Don't mistake Hexum backupplan as a sign of waning confidence. The outspoken leader never has doubted his band's ability to take its act beyond the bars and clubs of Omaha. From the start, 311's brew of funk, rap reggae and alt-rock was infectious.
           "I always felt: 'Why not me?'" Hexum said. "I've always thought that you can really control your destiny. I think the truly talented, gifted, hard-working people will always get their comeuppance at some level. I can't say what I thought my exact degree of success would have been, but I always batted for the stands.
           On the streets, on the airwaves, in the clubs, in record stores, and in at least one of Los Angeles' two National Basketball Association locker rooms, 311 ranks high among the city's most recognizable bandss.
           While standing in line for admission into December's Metallica and Korn concert in Los Angeles, Martinez was besieged by female admirers. One young woman told him she caught a water bottle he had thrown to her during a show.
           "I think that it's funny that people know me and 311," Martinez said. "I never take those things seriously because I know there are other bands who are bigger than us."
           Not many, says former University of Nebraska-Lincoln basketball player Eric Piatkowski. A third-year player with the Los Angeles Clippers, Piatkowski raved about 311 before a recent game.
           "I like the lead singer Nick, and I like the bass," Piatkowski said. "All their songs have really good bass."
           An all-time favorite of Piatkowski's is the CD "311".
           "The CD had a place in my car's changer for a few months. The CDs I have don't usually get that.
           Ari Green, a skateboarder taking a break at a storefront along Los Angeles' Melrose Avenue, was quick to give his opinion of 311 one lazy afternoon.
           "I don't like them."
           Any particular reason?
           They're too popular," Green said. matter-of-factly. "They're not like other bands, when you hear one of their songs on the radio all the time. You hear *all* of their songs *all* of the time. I guess they've got a lot of good songs."
           Two songs in particular, "Down" and "All Mixed Up," helped make 311 a mainstream force last year after receiving substantial airplay on MTV and on rock and pop radio stations.
           "I think 'All Mixed Up' is funky and happenin,'" said Susan Guralnik, a sales clerk at the Tower Records Store on Sunset Boulevard in West Hollywood. "To me, their music is the black rap scene meeting the contemporary white rock scene. It makes me feel happy and optimistic instead of depressed.
           At the Guitar Center, a West Hollywood music store frequented by rock heavies and once Hexum's place of employment, receptionest Jerry Martinez said 311's music is "my kind of music. They're great. Their music is awesome. They're talented musicians," he said. "I've seen them at clubs and their music is groovy. You have a good time and you forget about stuff. They're not boring."
           Even the band's name stopped being boring last year when it caused a controversy in Omaha. It became rumored that the band's name was associated with the Klu Klux Klan because three times the 11th letter of the alphabet spells KKK. The rumor floated around for a couple of years until some students at Westside High School complained to school officials. Although the band's members said publicly they had no association with white supremacists, Westside banned 311 T-shirts at the school.
           The KKK controversy had a paradoxical impact on 311's notoriety. Major publications such as Rolling Stone and Spin magazine and USA Today suddenly became interested in following the band's career. Ditto for MTV.
           "In less than a week, it was everywhere," band member Doug Martinez said. "It gave the media a spot to work from...but it says something else about the sensational aspect of the low-brow journalism of certain media. Do people not have anything better to do with their time? What makes me mad is that some people are going to belive that (KKK rumor)."
           311 plans to make a final statement regarding the rumor. The band has written 29 songs for its fourth CD on the Capricorn-Mercury label and one song's title uses an obscenity when mentioning the KKK.
           During a private practice last month at the Cole Rehearsal Studio in Hollywood, 311 previewed the anti-KKK song - a driving, smoldering guitar-rock piece - and two others, "No Control" and "To the Future." Although the band smoothly charged through each piece, there was an unmistakable feeling of pressure associated with creating new music.
           "We're just starting to feel the pressure," said Adam Raspler, 311's manager. "Right now, we have to plan the (next) tour and we need set-up time. We can't have the timing fall apart, and they realize that. But we try not to push them too hard to perform because they are not going to accomplish anything if you do."
           The band plans to begin recording March 11 -- that is, 3-11.
           "Musically we are going to be tight and we are going to sound good," predicted drummer Sexton.
           Hexum has plans for that sound.
           "I would like to make our music more listenable. I want us to develop," he said.
           "Music," 311's major label debut from 1992, proved the band was capable of going in multiple music directions. On its next albums, "Grassroots" and "311," the group has shown a willingness to cut back on harder rap influences in favor of more melodic grooves.
           "I think there might be more of a jazz influence on this album," Hexum said. "There's a lot of jazziness on 'Grassroots,' and people have been encouraging me to develop that."
           The new record will be produced by the band's longtime sound engineer, Scott Ralston, who has worked with Gene Simmons of "Kiss" and Rick James of "Super Freak" fame. Sexton said the band feels comfortable with Ralston's direction, even though he will be the third producer the band has had in four albums.
           "A band that's been around for so long, they know exactly what they are doing," KROQ's Ms. D'Amato said. "They have a completely organic following."
           Even during its Omaha days, 311 built a fan base that seemed to appreciate the band's lack of predictability, although some in the local music community didn't under stand what 311 was trying to accomplish by being so unorthodox.
           "I was real determined not to blend in," Hexum said. "I didn't want to be in a band no one paid attention to, but some people in Omaha wouldn't understand that. We had to create a vibe and excitement level."
           As an eighth-grader, Hexum had his first experience with a little too much vibe and excitement at the old Arbor Heights Junior High School. At a talent show, he fronted a band that played the song, "Kansas City," folowed by a tribute to Clash, a new-wave punk band.
           During what was supposed to be an encore, Hexum said, the school's music teacher became offended, rushed to the stage and pulled the plug on the amplifiers. The offending song was the Clash's "Should I Stay or Should I Go Straight to Hell?"
           Years later, Hexum's question was whether he should stay in Omaha or go straight to Los Angeles. Having spent time in the West Coast city twice, Hexum was determined to make the third move his last in late 1991 after 311 starting attracting major label interest.
           "People in Omaha knew that we were, at least, noteworthy but that wasn't going to get us anywhere because there were no big labels there," Hexum said. "But we were definitely shaped by the Omaha vibe. We definitely have a Midwestern sensibility to us."
           And 311 calls Nebraska its home at every oppurtunity.
           Band members often wear Omaha or UNL athletic gear during concerts. At Christmas, the Cornhusker athletic department sent the band a card and a box full of sweatshirts and a Tommie Frazier jersey, which Martinez won in a game of rock-scissors-paper.
           "I'm always going to be a Nebraska fan," Martinez said. "In my opinion, no other sprt can touch Nebraska football.
           Spoken like a true Nebraskan with an eye on being No. 1.

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