Why don’t rock bands in New Orleans ever hit the big time? Ask around, and you’ll get a variety of excuses from disgruntled scenesters: “New Orleans doesn’t support the rock community.” “There’s no music business infrastructure here.” “Commercial radio ignores local bands.” “You have to sell out to get on a major label.”

These issues are complex and too often casually thrown around by rock bands, particularly by those who lack music business savvy. In the case of local art-pop rockers World Leader Pretend, commercialism is an accusation that’s been floated in some circles over the last year, but what the hell does that mean, anyway? As it turns out, not all that much to a band that’s been busting their ass and making music they love for years.

“Parker [Hutchinson] and I started playing music and writing songs together when we were 18 years old,” says Keith Ferguson, singer/guitarist of World Leader Pretend—a role that draws Thom York comparisons more often than not. After a couple of years with rotating drummers, Arthur Mintz joined as a permanent member of the band. “It’s hard to find musicians in New Orleans who fit our particular niche, so it was kind of magical.”

“Arthur brought a lot of drive and DIY energy to the band,” says Hutchinson. “We worked our butts off! We spent every weekend for months wandering the CBD with a diskman, getting people to listen to our first record [Fit For Faded]. We’d manage to sell 30 a day, sometimes.” That work ethic, coupled with some promotional assistance from erstwhile local label Renaissance Records eventually afforded them some attention from several major labels and a coveted spot at the OffBeat Best of the Beat Awards.

“We went out to do a Warner Brothers showcase in Los Angeles first earlier this year,” says Mintz. “Three weeks later, we did a showcase for nine labels at Tipitina’s.” The ensuing courting period lasted for several months, and was an experience that band wasn’t entirely prepared for. “They tried everything to convince us, like parading out all their hot interns. In the end we decided to go with Warner Brothers for a variety of reasons, mostly because they were supportive of what we were trying to do.”

“Getting signed to a major label sure doesn’t happen every day,” says Ferguson. “We basically took out a $40,000 loan, put everything we own on the line, to make the new record. It kind of snowballed from there. Getting this deal has been a long ongoing process that’s lasted about a year. It was like going to boot camp.”

“The drive to make this happens comes from knowing that making music is what you want to do with your life, and you have to do everything in your power to make it happen,” says Hutchinson. “If you’re not willing to put everything on the line, then it won’t happen.”

“A major label pop band is an unusual thing to come out of New Orleans,” says Ferguson, shrugging off the Radiohead comparisons. “There aren’t a lot of bands writing cheesy pop songs in the Brian Wilson sense—commercial, but it still has an edge to it. Not that I’m comparing us to Brian Wilson but it seems like everything is polarized—either indie bands trying to sound like shit or stuff like Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake. Pop music can be a beautiful thing. It can be popular, but it can also be art.”

Jim Baltutis of Warner Bros. Records indicated that “there is not a release date for their debut, although you can expect word on that shortly (early next year is the target). The band is hitting the road for a few dates next month beginning in Atlanta on November 11.”

GONE FISHIN’

The scenario goes something like this: artists and musicians move into blighted neighborhood; artists and musicians make neighborhood culturally relevant; yuppies move into neighborhood; blighted properties turn into condos; artists and musicians are priced out of neighborhood. Granted, the issues involved in gentrification are far more complicated than that. Nevertheless, the Mermaid Lounge—the long time staple indie rock venue in the Warehouse District—will close on December 18.

“It’s a shame,” says Mermaid manager Brendan Gallagher. “They’re getting rid of this cultural thing… This area was dead before we came here, and now it’s going to be dry like the rest of the Warehouse District.” According to Gallagher, the building’s landlord opted not to renew the club’s lease, which expires on January 1. Instead, the building—after being renovated—will be turned into an adjunct for the Oschner Clinic.

“We’re looking at a few places around town,” he says. “But we’re mostly concentrating on closing right now. If we do reopen, it’ll be six month’s from now. In time for Jazz Fest.” Gallagher isn’t optimistic about reopening, considering that they are trying to sell off much of their equipment during their going out of business sale on December 18.

“It’ll take a miracle. It’s a lot harder to open a club in this city these days, because of neighborhood associations getting up in arms,” explains Gallagher. “Remind people that we’re still going to be open and have a lot of cool shows before we close.”

THRIFT STORE CHIC

In the late ’90s, Tina Trachtenburg was combing through estate sales and thrift stores in Seattle and coming across boxes of old vacation slides. She suggested to her husband, singer songwriter Jason Trachtenburg, that they write songs inspired by the slides. By 2000—with their then six year-old daughter Rachel on drums, Jason on keyboard and guitar and Tina manning the slide projector—they had two sets worth of material and were selling out coffee houses.

In 2002, the Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players relocated to New York, where the local and national music press started paying attention and they were subsequently booked to play on Late Night With Conan O’Brien—the very first unsigned band to do so.

Taken on their own, the songs are bare bones bouncy pop songs with quirky lyrics that are sure to please lo-fi aficionados and sure to disinterest people whose tastes lean more towards Yes, but the slideshow and the peculiar carnie quality of this touring family act amounts to an altogether unique experience. The melodies and lyrics are directly inspired by the vintage slides—which alternate between proto typical weather beaten vacation slides (such as in “Mountain Trip to Japan, 1959”) and the utterly bizarre (“Middle America” is based around driver’s ed. slides from the ’60s)—often with hilarious results.

The Slideshow Players represent the ultimate roadside collision of second hand kitsch and indie pop—the inevitable result of ten years of ironic youth culture posturing. That’s not to say that their rock ‘n’ roll vaudeville is a bad thing. To the contrary, it’s actually damned catchy. In keeping with this, the Slideshow Players are traversing half the country on a “27 States of Vintage Fabric” tour in support of their upcoming release, The Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players Vol. 2: Middle America, which is, according to Papa Jason, “A little bit darker than their previous record.” People are asked to bring vintage fabric to House of Blues on November 7.