It all began with five individuals looking to find their way through a series of "for the time being" dream deferrals. It became a solidified unit of like-minded hellions, bent on delivering a dose of The Unexpected into a world otherwise crammed with tried-and-trues.
Enter Brett Hestla, Marchant, Deacon Ted Ledbetter, JD Charlton, and Chris Dickerson. From the moment the Birmingham, Alabama-based quintet set rehearsal walls vibrating with their eagerly overworked amps, it was clear they were onto something real. Born under the sixth sign of the zodiac, Virgos Merlot came to symbolize something invigorating, intoxicating — an attainment of the pure moment.
"Songs were rolling out in ten minutes," recalls Dickerson. "During our first practice, we wrote ‘Come Apart,’ ‘Winning’ and a couple of others. By the time we’d finished our first few rehearsals we had half the record done."
"It’s something that bled out of each one of us," adds Hestla, the band’s singer/guitarist and chief songwriter. "Virgos Merlot seemed to work as a perfect description of how everything went when we all first got together. It was everything we were looking to do."
Uniquely melodic and, at the same time, thunderously amped-up, Virgos Merlot instill each track from the resulting "SIGNS OF A VACANT SOUL" with a soul-bearing sincerity and decibel-driven drama. From the groove-grinding "Gain," to the soaring-yet-somber "Cycle," and the smoky, reflective "Kiss My Disease," this self-assured Atlantic debut reveals a band — still barely eighteen-months-old — within the brilliant first blush of an inspired rock outpouring.
"SIGNS..." originated with the band’s demo recordings, as set to tape in the basement studio of their friend and producer Jason Elgin. What had been meant as a first step towards capturing their earliest material ended up being a ready-for-release master stroke. Later last year, when the band was ready to finish what would become their debut, they again tapped Elgin.
While the tone and attack of Virgos Merlot remains uncompromising and unnervingly raw throughout "SIGNS OF A VACANT SOUL," Hestla’s lyrical message is often unexpected in its commitment to positive change.
"It’s a matter of bringing a realistic perspective to my writing as I talk about things that have gone on in my life," says Hestla. "It comes down to taking a bold, stone faced look at a situation and calling it what it is. In the case of ‘Disregarding,’ that song is about recognizing your own downward cycle and trying to put an end to it, and bringing yourself back up. A lot of the songs are about just looking in the mirror."
Completed as a group, VM songs generally start with a single idea — a guitar riff, a bass line — and grow quickly from there. On other occasions, a number will form around a melody or lyrical phrase Brett has brought into rehearsal.
"It’s like a dogpile," says Charlton of the creative process. "One person gets it rolling and the rest just start jumping in with their ideas."
It is because of the depth and duration of the friendships within Virgos Merlot that the five are able to operate so successfully as a creative team. Hestla and Marchant have been friends since high school; Chris and Deacon Ledbetter, since elementary school. In various and changing forms, they’ve all been playing in bands and hanging out together since their early teens, years before VM was even a glimmer in their collective eyes.
Prior to entering the recording studio on their quest for "SIGNS...," everyone was naturally forced to spend long days away from their rehearsal space, confronting the facts of jobs and once-considered careers: Charlton and Hestla worked at a cabinet shop, among a dozen other gigs; Ted earned his associate’s degree in advertising and commercial art; Chris got part way down the road to becoming an RN; Marchant graduated college and became a paramedic.
With Virgos Merlot, each found both an outlet for their art and a new kind of escape from the day in/out world.
"By being in this band, we’re definitely trying to separate ourselves from society," declares Hestla. "It goes back to rock and roll and its performance element. You create a character — something that’s bigger than you, bigger than what you do in your everyday life. Maybe its about connecting with an alter ego."
Informed by that commitment to theatric exhibition, the group further honed its vital live edge over the course of numerous nights on club stages from Orlando to Tallahassee, Ft. Lauderdale to Panama City. In 1998, the group’s mounting energy reached new heights through gigs with the likes of Tonic, Big Wreck, Fuel, and Eve 6 — along with an outdoor festival show before a crowd of some 7,000 Knoxville, Tennessee residents.
"We’re all from the school of big rock bands," says Hestla. "We grew up on the bands that put on a big show. I mean, what’s wrong with actually being entertained for 90 minutes instead of listening to somebody complain about how bad it is to be who they are?"
The group put their hometown into a sweat last summer during a headline gig at the annual City Stages festival — marking a rare daylight appearance. In addition to proving a highlight among last year’s many performances, the show also helped cement the band’s reputation as emerging local heroes.
After all, people in Birmingham can’t help but take notice. With their penchant for startled first glimpses, thanks to a defiant Village of the Damned meets Lost Boys fashion sense, the VMs never fail to make a lasting impression on all they encounter — either in concert, on the air, or even on the street.
"I had this lady at a gas station tell me I was the devil," recalls the Deacon with a wry grin. "I was just standing there at the self-serve pump minding my own business."
"We definitely seem to upset some people," exclaims Marchant. "At one time or other, we’ve been denied service and even had waiters try to spill food on us... Life can be a little bizarre when you’re in this band."