mark seliger 

                    HAZEL

            In 1992 I found employment with the band Hazel by way of appearing as Cupid at their Valentine's Day debut engagement. Theoretically, a dancer can sweeten an already harmonious chemistry between musicians by enhancing the emotional peaks and troughs, subtly or not so. In practice, this being stupendously passionate and hilarious Hazel, it's basically a matter of trying to exemplify the shit. Neither am I so modest as not to note that in shielding Jody and the other boys from a lot of unsavory scrutiny, I allow them a space in which to effect their trademarked alchemy. On a good night, fuel-inject, if you will, their speed and power and ascendant harmony.

             It was the early 90's, there was a virulent anti-queer local ballot-measure juxtaposed to the peak of the AIDS plague, and, courtesy Monsieur Cobain, lethal multi-national business-sharks (Geffin, anyone?) lurking. A seemingly fanatical cult-following descended from that first show, imposing on us a brutal mandate to burn down every house in reach, including specifically all the macho frat-boy rock-pose and foul business 'advancement' the 'music' 'scene' could 'offer'.

             Talk about biting off more than you can chew.

             Unfortunately, we ended up caving a little on the "business reality" end of things: a) We didn't begin to appreciate the amount of pressure required to bring to bear upon our pathetic record-label to force them to let us title our first disc Buttfucking With Hazel. b) We cut a series of Nike commercials featuring the repugnant Dennis Hopper, and c) We let London Records tease our cock for what felt like a decade. 

             [My personal business-of-rock epiphany came one evening at the historic Los Angeles dive Raji's. The "buzz" on Hazel was peaking and a pack of disreputable-looking millionaire record-scouts (before we started, I remarked to Brady what a lot of junkies there seemed to be there. He goes, "those aren't junkies - those are A & R guys") from the big-name record companies had come to scope us out. And while we definitely rocked the house that night, the band up next, an L. A. band called Loser - which by the evidence of its name understood the situation all too well - came on and tore the place down. Of course, the recording scouts had all managed to split by the time they took the stage. ]

              Touring is high-stress. One quickly learns to maximize any opportunity to get away from bandmates. Most musicians use alcohol and worse - TV - to achieve this. One tour I spent my entire proceeds on rental cars, I bailed out of the Veruca Salt Tour at least four times, and more times than that came this close to making Pete bail permanently. Eventually I learned to bring along a bike - and this notepad for a little recording of my own.

              The Europe tour in '97 was the last time we played regularly. Since then we average 2 or 3 shows a year.

              Pete Krebs plays electric guitar and does most of the singing and songwriting. Jody Bleyle is our drummer and sings occasional lead, harmonies, duets, and backup. Brady Smith plays bass and sings backup. I'm the dancer.

               Don't ask.

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