No one has a stage presence quite like Joe Casey. The 46-year-old singer of the Detroit post-punk band Protomartyr looms over an audience when he takes the stage, plants himself at the center with a statuesque resolve, grabs the mic with one hand while clutching a drink in the other and begins barking gloomy lyrics at the crowd. It's a blend of snarling intimidation, disaffected nonchalance and mordant bleakness that lacks a true parallel in the rock world, but it's one that makes every Protomartyr show a captivating experience.
It's certainly an aesthetic choice for Casey, but one that's less forced and more a result of not really being a rock singer till his mid-30s, adapting to Protomatyr's early bar band surrounding and watching other singers who he felt were at least slightly disingenuous up on stage.
"I never sang before, and I have a very low voice," says Casey. "When we first started, we played on shitty equipment in shitty bars with shitty sound systems. So I didn't really have to worry about hitting the notes or anything like that. But I also didn't want to be a performatively punk kind of performer. Because I hated going to shows back in those days and seeing singers that would come into the audience and try to confront the audience in some weird way or be overly theatrical. Which is fine, like some people can do it really well. But I'm like, 'There's no way I'm gonna be able to do that. It's gonna be fake. So I'm just gonna try to stand stock still and keep my eyes open.'"
That said, he does remain a bit befuddled about how people react to him keeping booze in hand while singing, despite it being a thing that was commonplace among many old crooners.
"People were like, 'I can't believe he sings with a drink in his hand!' It's like, that's kind of an old [mannerism]. That's nothing new," says Casey.
Protomartyr's menacing noise has drawn raves since the band's early days, with guitarist Greg Ahee, bassist Scott Davidson and drummer Alex Leonard laying down dark and unnerving rock soundscapes over Casey's literary and almost free-associative poetic musings on existential bleakness and the rotting world, which he delivers in his spoken/sung baritone.
In June, Protomartyr delivered its sixth album, Formal Growth in the Desert. And the weird thing about it? It's kinda optimistic? Don't get it twisted, the group isn't suddenly making sunny pop that will be featured on the Barbie soundtrack or anything. But there is a certain pep to some of the instrumentation on a few tracks. And while Casey still finds himself wrestling with loss and the sorrow in the world, there's a sliver of lyrical light to be found that contradicts his usual artistic hopelessness.
"I think there's always been some humor and some levity in every Protomartyr record. But I think the difference is that when I started, I was a very depressed 35-year-old man. And now, I'm a very depressed 46-year-old man," Casey sardonically states. "And so it's just the nature of how you look at the world. I find people my age can get very negative about the future and things like that. And I try to be a contrarian. So I thought, 'I'm gonna try to be positive about the future. I think everything's gonna go great.' But then you have to deal with that innate pessimism I have. So it's kind of a tradeoff."
Formal Growth pushes somewhat against Protomartyr's typically barebones guitar/bass/drum/vocals format, adding in elements like synths and steel guitar at select moments. There's a vigor to the record, one that Casey felt like he needed to prove that he still had something left in the tank after the music industry halting in the face of the COVID pandemic.
"It was probably the longest break between records just by nature of what was happening. And I wanted to make sure that I didn't lose a step, and I just didn't want to just slowly sing over everything," Casey says. "And luckily, like the band was coming in with songs that were up-tempo. When you do them live, you're obviously more energetic, and I wanted to make sure that was in there, because sometimes you can kind of get dulled by the studio."
There's also a contrast in approach, where a track like "3800 Tigers" dips into dance rock territory.
"That was definitely one where I was like, 'OK, this one sounds lively and upbeat, in a weird way. So I'm going to try to think of lyrics that would fit that,'" Casey says. "You can't go in with a song that sounds like that and be like, 'I'm just gonna, like, complain about the troubles of the world or troubles in my life.'"
But Casey still finds his spots to cut to the core of the human condition with a beautiful bluntness. Nothing on Formal Growth hits quite as hard as the tail end of the song "Polacrilex Kid" when the singer starts repeating this line: "Can you hate yourself and still deserve love?"
"I think it's very universally relatable, that you can be down on yourself. And I think a lot of times — I don't want to turn to a self-help guru or anything like that — but it's important sometimes to focus on your own headspace before you can consider being open to the idea of love or helping other people."
That lyrical question actually gets an optimistic answer a few songs later on "Rain Garden" as the newly married Casey proclaims: "I am deserving of love / They'll say it's just a love song / But love / But love has found me."
It's these types of musical moments that reward close listening to Formal Growth and lead Casey to describe the LP as a "headphones record," where listening intently in solidarity can open up the full Protomartyr experience.
"At first, Protomartyr records kind of hit you fairly bluntly. You know, it's me shouting through a lot of it," Casey wryly remarks. "But if you take the time to listen to 'em again and again, then you can kind of hear sonically what's happening. There're a lot of things in the background. What sounds like bass, guitar, drum and voice changes quite a bit with what we added in the studio. And then lyrically, it's always nice when somebody's like, 'Oh, I finally figured out what the hell you're talking about' after looking at the lyrics. [Laughs] People don't necessarily have to do that to enjoy us, at least I hope not. But it's a nice little bonus, if you want to kind of look up things."
Protomartyr has a special weapon on this tour in support of Formal Growth — alt-rock titan Kelley Deal of the Breeders. Deal rounds out the band's sound with backup vocals, keyboards, and guitar, which Casey appreciates, considering "the Breeders are always doing something more exciting."
Protomartyr will always have its cynical edge that cuts with a sharp viciousness, but the band has grown. And even in this world filled with hate and self-loathing, Casey — just like the rest of us sad sacks — is deserving of love. ♦
Protomartyr, The Smokes • Sat, July 8 at 8 pm • $20-$25 • 21+ • Lucky You Lounge • 1801 W. Sunset Blvd. • luckyyoulounge.com
