Rubicon stuck with Street cred

By ELEANOR BLACK

Being compared to a TV character every time you leave your house quickly loses its charm. It's even worse if your friend is the one who is on telly every day and you still get asked about it.

Rubicon, the Auckland-based rock trio who roared into the limelight two years ago with their cheerful punk/pop sound, deal with this every time they set out to promote themselves.

Lead singer/drummer/bassist Paul Reid is best known for his nightly portrayal on Shortland Street of Marshall Heywood, the rebellious teen with the spiky blond hair and easy snarl.

When 22-year-old Reid and his bandmates hit the press circuit it is often Marshall Heywood who gets interviewed, and when they perform live it is Marsh who is mobbed by gaggles of teenage girls. And yes, this does annoy his bandmates.

In the past month, as Rubicon have promoted their debut album Primary - a winsome blend of up-tempo party songs with punk beats and ironic pop lyrics - 21-year-old Jon Corker (bass, drums, vocals) has been dismayed at the power of the "Marshall effect".

Although he readily admits it has helped the band to score interviews, he is dubious about how effective the publicity is.

Sprawled on couches at their record company's office, Reid and Corker are surprised and pleased when talk turns to their music.

Reid, who has played the drums since he was 3, worked the sticks for D4 and Loves Ugly Children before meeting Corker and 22-year-old Gene Bennett (guitar, vocals) at a party.

The group released their first single, The Captain, in late 2000. They captured new fans with Funny Boy, but it was the unbelievably catchy Bruce ("Who would call a kid Bruce anyway? Poor kid would have to hang his head in shame") which made their name.

While Rubicon's fans tend to be teenagers, their clever music is attracting older listeners - a good sign for future sales. But ask Reid and Corker to define their sound and their eyes glaze over.

Clearly, we are meant to listen and enjoy, not analyse. Corker, who until now has been stuffing bits of brownie into his mouth and making appreciative noises, turns positively sulky.

"It's not punk," he says with sufficient attitude that his bandmate asks if he just got out of bed. "Punk is not happy - it's self-destructive. It's not rock in a Kiss sort of way ... just buy the album."

The diplomatic Reid comes up with a more helpful response. "Twenty-first century rock, that was the tag for a while. It's fun music. It's music to have a party to."

Next year Rubicon take the party overseas, to Britain, France and the United States.

"Being able to see the world doing what we love is probably [my idea of success] ... It's so small and cliquey you are drowning in the Auckland pool," Corker says of the local music industry.

Reid - who would be quite happy to experience a burst of fame and fortune, then go hide somewhere with his cash - knows he has succeeded "when Mum says she's proud".

Like Corker, he tries to avoid comparing Rubicon's profile to other Kiwi bands. "There are bands that are media darlings and critics' darlings and bands people like," he says with a nod of thanks to the fans.

Although they find touring boring and stressful, that's where Rubicon get to try new techniques on their audience - a "messy and aggressive" process they relish.

The band are big on experimentation - sound effects, overdubs, and swapping lead singer - but few tricks made it on to Primary.

They produced the album themselves, which absorbed a lot of the energy which would otherwise have been directed towards writing. Last summer, when Marshall Heywood was in prison, Rubicon headed to the studio, and in May they mastered the album in Sydney, where Reid climbed on to the roof of the Opera House to the delight of passing tourists.

Pleased with their Sydney experience, the band are determined to produce the next album as well, despite feeling that Primary is probably not as sharp as it could be.

"If you don't make any mistakes there is no magic," says Corker.

He tells a story about an impromptu jam session the other night. "I walked away for about five minutes, came back and [Reid and Bennett] were doing this crazy Spanish heavy metal."

They are only half-joking when they say the Spanish metal could make its way on to the second album. One thing that won't be used on the follow-up to Primary is double-tracking to provide background vocals.

"Everyone is double-tracked," says Reid with disgust. "Eminem is double-tracked. Take away that second track and you've got a weedy little nutter." (A nutter whose real name isMarshall, but we'll let that pass).

Corker hopes that before long he will convince Bennett, a respected luthier (maker of stringed instruments), to make him a banjo to add another angle to their sound.

"You can't call yourself a luthier and not make banjos. It's an outrage. It's like calling yourself a sailor and not liking rope."

In the meantime, Rubicon are looking down the barrel of a 22-gig tour of New Zealand, which starts next month.

"Everyone talks to you and wants to be your friend and it can be overwhelming," says Reid, who is obviously not the attention-seeker his alter ego is.

"They should stop talking to him and start talking to us," says Corker with a laugh.

After some consideration, Corker thinks of another advantage to making music with a TV star.

"If you're a diehard Shortland Street fan it's only like $25 to go see Marshall and his friends rock out."

* Primary is out now.