the Urban Artist Group presents...

Yeller Bellies


I like the nostalgia and the mystery of the unexplored West. Songs that told stories of lost souls, murder, loss and revenge.

-Rob "Yeller" Bell

Las Vegas, Nevada. Some call it Sin City, while others refer to it as Lost Wages. There are no doubt a number of other fitting nicknames for it that I am not familiar with, but one thing is for certain: many of them share the same commonalities. That is to say, many of them are based on the fact that Las Vegas is a city of vices, a gambler's paradise, and a 24-hour machine whose gears turn sleeplessly all night long.
           From a distance, once the desert landscape opens up and allows you to observe it on a larger scale, Las Vegas is quite a spectacle---a massive, glowing metropolis surrounded by what seems like an infinity of desolate nothingness. Adorned with millions of artificial lights and a number of monstrous architectural structures on both sides of the Boulevard, Las Vegas is a thriving, bustling piece of modern civilization in the middle of the harsh wastelands that are the Nevada desert. And the lights never go out.
           To be sure, Las Vegas has all of what's expected of a Southwestern town, as well as the climate of a desert community, and yet it also possesses all the charmless corruption of a cigar-chewing pawnbroker's office, all the pretentious glitz and glam of a battalion of runway models, all the practiced swagger of an Elvis Presley impersonator, all the shiny apparatuses and flashing lights of a traveling carnival, and all the untold secrets left behind in the dim rooms of old whorehouses. For those of us who have traveled the States extensively, we know that Las Vegas has many of the characteristics for which other major cities are well known, like the sweaty, booze-soaked sexual energy of New Orleans, Louisiana's French Quarter during Mardi Gras, for example, just as it has the steady decline and artificiality of Los Angeles, California. In some ways, Vegas possesses the gloomy desperation, depravity, and bottom-of-the-barrel, chance-taking atmosphere of Atlantic City, New Jersey, just as it has the sunny amusement park and novelty stand environment of Orlando, Florida. Of course, there are elements of other places in the world, though decidedly too many to point out in a single article.
           Dubbed the Entertainment Capital of the World by the mainstream press and other such forms of mass communication, this desert city is home to a variety of entertainers, including comedians, magicians, and bands and singer/songwriters. It is also a frequented destination for outside entertainers to perform. Such things mostly take place in the tourist areas, however, around the Strip, where the casinos are always at full swing, where crowds clog the walkways and corridors like so many blocked arteries, where the cards are dealt in a seemingly neverending cycle, and where the smell of alcohol and cigarettes are heavy throughout the local establishments. In that part of the city, you will also find a rather sizeable homeless population, who are drawn to the tourist areas to panhandle, to do odd jobs at the casinos for a few measly bucks a day, to rummage through the treasure troves of garbage in the local dumpsters and trashcans, and to take midday siestas on bus stop benches along the Boulevard. That's the dichotomous nature of the city's residents and tourists, though. Some are rags, while others are riches. Of course there's a notable percentage of the population represented by the middle class bourgeoisie, who seem quite comfortable stuck in between the two social extremes. And then there are those who go to Las Vegas as riches and leave as rags. In fact, it's a sad, pathetic story as old as the city itself, for as long as there have been casinos, there have been poor saps sinking their life savings into the slot machines and card tables and roulette wheels and so on. All of this is to say, obviously, that Las Vegas is a melting pot of a city, in which every walk of life, every ethnicity, every culture and subculture, and every level of the social hierarchy is represented to a certain degree by both its inhabitants and visitors alike.
           Las Vegas is also home to the Yeller Bellies, a remarkably talented group of musicians and singer/songwriters whose sound is a combination of Rockabilly, Blues, Americana, and Roots Rock, among other things. When I first heard the Yeller Bellies' music I was more than a little impressed, admittedly, as there was an undeniable chemistry between the band members, a sort of intuitive bond which seemed to permit one to anticipate the other's next move, or, in their particular case, the next note, the next chord, the next boom and crash and tap of the drums, and the next line of lyrics wailed forth. In addition to that, they created a tight-as-hell and yet completely wild sound, brilliantly composed and yet as feral as an alley cat, a sound that would be enthusiastically applauded by the legends, both living and dead alike, such as Johnny Cash, Elvis Presley, Link Wray, and Mike Ness, as well as the old Blues Masters, like Mississippi Fred McDowell, Lightnin' Hopkins, and Robert Johnson. What's more, there, in the layers of the Yeller Bellies' sound, something unmistakably Countryesque revealed itself as a component part of the whole, a Deep South Blues Rock and Country Riot sound, which was undoubtedly the kind to compel others to drink, dance, fight, fuck, and drive fast cars down the starlit backroads just outside the city limits and on from the bruise-colored horizons of the midnight world to the golden sunrises of the approaching dawn.
           Truly, it is powerful stuff, this music, and I would dare say they are probably one of the best bands in all of Las Vegas, if not one of the best bands in the West.
           It's whiskey and cigarettes music at its finest!
           The Yeller Bellies are a four-piece band, with Rob Bell (Rob Yeller) on vocals and mandolin, Joel Hillhouse on guitar, Mitch Potter on upright bass, and Jimmy Krah on drums. They are all excellent musicians with loads of experience, not just with their instruments of choice but in the band scene as well. And it was during our interview in mid 2008 that I was able to get the story on each of them.
           Rob "Yeller" Bell is a Vegas native. Geographically Vegas made sense to Rob's mother, since his father was serving in the Vietnam War, and his grandparents were already dug-in there as professional musicians. Rob's mother, who raised him, gave birth to him when she was very young, eighteen years old, and she needed all the help she could get. Not unlike much of America's youth, Rob was a latchkey kid from a young age and remained so throughout his school years. He didn't go to college directly after graduation, but it wasn't something he was willing to live his entire life without doing, so he eventually got his Associates in General Studies. Though he now works a day job as a Construction Inspector, music is evidently Rob's passion. His passions don't end there, though, as he has been married for eleven years and is also the happy father of two wonderful little girls, Bijou Blue and Piper Rose. Rob loves the outdoors, but he loathes the desert, and he plans to relocate one day to Ft. Collins, Colorado, where he owns some real-estate. He is also a self-admitted live music junkie, with a ridiculous collection of over 3,000 cd's and 1,400 cassettes of bootleg shows. The Yeller Bellies band is not Rob Bell's first foray in the live music circuit by far, as he has quite a history of playing in Bluegrass outfits and such. Now, I haven't heard any of Rob's previous bands, but I can attest to it being true what they say about his overall performance in the Yeller Bellies: Playing the mandolin like he's beating a dead, miniature pony, he howls through his songs like a fire and brimstone preacher. Come to think of it, in our interview, Rob even mentioned his vocal and mandolin styles in detail. "I've played mandolin for a few years now," he said, "doing hard time in a Bluegrass outfit called the Pickadillos. By playing, I mean beating it until my fingers bleed. I'm not a picker. My strong suit is songwriting. I'm also a fan of experimental music (anything from Waits---post Brennan to Throbbing Gristle). Although this first release may not reflect all that, we shall grow and incorporate more as time goes on. Live, I like to scream like a banshee, bang on skillets with a claw hammer, beat the mandolin, and croon with the rest of 'em. I like to work lyrics in rhythmic patters, really concentrating on meter and syllables. I also like to piss people off. More of a subversive than an anarchist, I like strong statements. I mean what I say, and I don't participate in something I don't believe in. I use pointed language and imagery to get my songs across. As an artist, I want people to love (or hate) our work, but not to treat it with a shrug."
           When I asked Joel Hillhouse about himself, he jokingly stated that he was born the son of a poor sharecropper. Then, on a more serious note, he went on to explain that he was actually born in Springfield, Missouri, and that he had grown up around music in the Ozarks. In fact, his father was one of those musical presences he grew up around, and of Joel's fondest remembrances of his youth he counts listening to his father play Jimmy Rodgers, Hank Sr, Bluegrass standards and old revival meeting songs on his guitar, and how he used to play just for the joy of playing. Tragically, Joel's father passed away when Joel was ten, at which time, for reasons he never quite understood, his mother moved them from the green, green hills and hollers out to the wide open, dusty desert in Vegas. Back then, Vegas was a much different place than it is today, and it definitely took some adapting to. After some time, Joel's mother remarried. And Joel ended up spending the next few years around the Punk scene in Vegas, going to desert shows and whatnot. Currently, as is stated in an online description of his skills, Joel's playing for the Yeller Bellies sounds like: the buzz saws from the hills he hails from.
           Having arrived in Las Vegas from California at the tender age of eight, Mitch Potter grew up as a desert rat, developing tastes for things like motorcycles, hunting, fishing, shooting, hiking, and anything having to do with nature. Mainly he was raised on Motown and Blues and the old Country Greats. For the most part he lived with his grandparents, and they were into Big Band and Swing. Glen Miller, the Dorseys, Les Brown---they all had a serious influence on his upright bass playing. As an adult, this man of few words has confessed to me in our interview that his two favorite pastimes are raising reptiles (he used to be a snake rancher, with over three-hundred snakes at one time) and driving his wife nuts), in addition to playing the bass guitar, of course. The Yeller Bellies band isn't Mitch's first experience in the live music circuit either, and he has been involved in bands ranging in sound and style. But as the bassist for the Yeller Bellies, Mitch has been described as: a tub-thumpin', slappin' monster, still fighting the restraining order filed against him from his first upright.
           "My parents were quite the free spirits," recalled Mitch in our interview, "and there were always interesting people hangin about. That's when I got influenced by some of the early surf music like Dick Dale and Sandy Nelson. In fact, I think the first record I ever jammed to was Teen Beat by Sandy Nelson. I was probably about seven and my neighbor had one of those old crappy Sears guitars. I've been hooked on music ever since. The first bona fide band I was in was MT Pockets with Joel. Even though Joel is an amazing guitarist, he was and is an incredible influence on my bass playing.
            "I've been listening to a lot of the Hacienda Brothers these days," continued Mitch. "Hank is great and Dave's guitar licks are just awesome. Old ZZ Top, pre Eliminator stuff. Dusty Hill is a major inluence on my approach to playing bass. Tommy Shannon of the Arc Angels blows me away. And Th' Legendary Shack Shakers...I swear they have more energy than the Energizer Bunny."
           In the 70's and 80's Jimmy Krah resided in Buffalo, New York, which, as he described it, was "a rust-belt, dying industrial town with no sense of humor, as you might imagine. At night you drank and you bowled. If you didn't bowl, you went to local clubs to see bands, and then, if you were lucky, you formed a band of your own. The scene was different then, and it was better. The local acts were as good as the national acts, and the top of the local talent would work two day jobs and get a loan on the house to buy $20,000.00 worth of lights and sound, and they brought that level of equipment several nights a week to the big local clubs. Production values of live shows were much higher back then, too. I used to go see the local band Talas, for example, with bassist Billy Sheehan, playing McVan's crummy bar on Niagara Street for thirty people with a four-dollar cover. Burgeoning acts like Motorhead and Metallica would play the Sky Room on Seneca Street for a hundred people in 1983, six blocks from my house. Local dive bars as a matter of vogue and trend and marketing concept did not exist then. A bar was either crummy or it wasn't, and you played there because that's where the crowd was, and that's where the gig was. The crowds were blue-collar people with shitty attitudes in general, and you had better be a good band or else. There was neither credit given nor glory taken in trying. You were expected to succeed and to impress, and if you didn't, those crowds simply wouldn't waste their time on you. And they had no problem letting you know you sucked, if you were stupid enough to suck."
           Jimmy had been playing drums for quite a few years when the new wave of British Heavy Metal happened. To him, it was a great thing, as there was a whole series of bands fighting their way out of shitty English neighborhoods, and they were willing to go over the top to breakout of Great Britain's version of Buffalo. It was even more difficult for those bands because they knew they had to measure up to acts like Zeppelin and Sabbath, which, let's be honest, are not easy shoes to fill. Basically, Jimmy came up listening to and trying to emulate early Accept, Diamondhead, Motorhead, Iron Maiden, Raven, and Trust.
           For six years Jimmy was a very dedicated drummer, until he ended up selling all of his gear to one of his drum students so that he could make his car payments. That was in 1984. At that point he stopped playing altogether. And the years between '84 and the early 90's saw him go through many occupations---stockbroker, life insurance salesman, auto parts salesman, and a body shop worker---before enrolling in law school in 1993. In 1996, having graduated from law school and earned his blackbelt in Tae Kwon Do, it was time to break free from Buffalo for good. Then, in 1997, Jimmy made his way to Las Vegas in order to begin his career as an attorney. It was a fresh start. Certainly an entirely different world than Buffalo. Some years later, he began his own law practice, the same practice that is now funding his re-entry into music. Finally, in 2007, he was recruited by the Yeller Bellies as their newest member. And that journey is just beginning, it seems.
           From what I gathered in the interview I did with the band, it would seem that Rob Bell, vocalist and mandolin player, hatched the very idea of the band from his love for Roots music. In fact, to quote an online source, Rob "Yeller" Bell heads this menagerie of miscreants. He is the ringleader, weaving tales of the wronged and wretched into haunting melodies. "I really just wanted to incorporate the sounds and instruments of the music I love," he explained, "write tunes that reflect that, and then collect individuals with multi-colored backgrounds to take that sound to a different level. I think this project reflects what we all bring to it collectively."
           "I had no real preconceived notion of what this band was going to be," said Mitch Potter on the band's beginnings. "As a matter of fact, I auditioned on a five-string electric bass. After a couple rehearsals, I felt the style and flavor of what we were doing would sound better on an upright bass. So I sold the five-string I had been playing for the last ten years and bought an upright. Prior to coming into the Yeller Bellies, I had been playing mostly Country and Blues with Bobby Kingston. Before that, I had been in several bands that ran the gamut from Hardcore Blues to Alternative Rock. I think one of the things that really helps the Yeller Bellies is the fact that Joel and I had been in bands together off and on since 1987. We have a great feel for each other and can read each other very well musically."
           "In 2007," said Jimmy Krah, "still excited about getting my chops back in shape and really wanting to play live music again, I started a Rock band in Las Vegas, cut another demo cd, and shared a few gigs with the Yeller Bellies. Their drummer at the time, Scott, was a neat guy, a songwriter and guitarist who was able to teach himself the drums well enough to do gigs with them as a new band. The Yeller Bellies simply needed a more experienced and technically proficient drummer, and they asked me to join after seeing me play a few gigs with my Rock band. My hat will always be off to Scott for being able to handle the drums while the Yeller Bellies were getting off the ground.
           "I learned the Yeller Bellies material well enough to start gigging after a few quick months of rehearsal," continued Jimmy. "I think my first gig with them was in November of 2007. We continue to rehearse in my living room, with no complaints from my neighbors. Within three months we were in the studio recording our first album, Boys Will Be Boys. We recorded it at the same studio where I did the Blues demo and my Rock band demo. In fact, the studio is owned by my friend Lez Warner, former drummer for the Cult. Basically, it's a converted garage, and there's just barely enough room to set up the gear there. I recommended we use that particular studio based on my previous experience there. We recorded the bass and drum tracks together, live, over scratch guitars and vocals, with generally no more than three takes of each song. Mitch and I did the bass and drum tracks you hear on the album in two days, in two sessions, with no tricks or gizmos. We just hammered those tracks right out. Then Joel and Rob did guitars and mandolin and vocals to replace their scratch tracks. The album came together very quickly because we really wanted to record this band, and we were getting tired of not having cd's for fans. It's a testament to the skill of the players and a real credit to Dave Hornbeck, who recorded, engineered and mastered the cd in Lez's studio, that it could be done so quickly and sound as good as it does. My favorite memory of recording the album is when Joel laid down the entire slide guitar track for the song 'Haunted' in one shot, on the first take. He nailed it like nobody's business, and there was just no need to do a second take."
           For those of us who have heard the song "Haunted," we know exactly what Jimmy Krah means. Truth be told, "Haunted" is hands down my favorite song on the record, with the cool, slow drumbeat which starts off the song, the phenomenal slide guitar part which flows hauntingly over the collective instrumentation, Mitch's subtle but effective basslines, and Rob's Bluesy vocals accompanied by a female presence with an unbelievably beautiful singing voice. Altogether, "Haunted" is an indisputable masterpiece of a song. Indeed, it is one of the best modern Blues songs I've heard in a long time, next to the songs of Pete Yorko, Two Gallants, and Timber Timbre. And when I asked Rob about the woman who contributed the guest vocals on the song, he said...
           "That woman was my wife, Danielle Bell, a professional singer from the hotel circuit. Not only does she have a great voice, she works cheap. She came in and laid the vocals down in one take, and then layered harmonies over her original track (in Touched and Siren Song)."
           As far as the meaning of the lyrics behind "Haunted," Rob explained...
           "It's classic love and loss. Drinking to forget, drinking to honor, the pain still fresh. The song is a single narration, but I thought it would be fun to do as a duet."
           Of course, "Haunted" is not the only great song on the album. There are other gems, like the first track, a Rockabilly instrumental titled "Bullets, Booze, and Sombreros." "Gutter Dog," the second song, is one of the harder hitting songs on the record, with a mandolin intro coupled with a steady beat on the kick drum, which soon breaks into a full-on Rock tune with a rising and falling distorted guitar riff wavering over it all, and the punctuation of each line with the notes of Mitch's upright, while Rob howls the lyrics in fits of passionate vocal delivery. "Vegas is nationally known as one of the worst towns for the homeless," said Rob, explaining the meaning behind "Gutter Dog." "Entire areas of shanty shelters are razed, and parks are closed to the public in attempts to put the homeless out of sight. This is what would happen if the homeless banded together and revolted." Later in the record comes "Siren Song," a Countryesque number, the meaning behind which Rob describes as: "A sailor marries a siren, but suspects her of cheating with the boss, Davy Jones." And it all comes to an end with the title track, "Boys Will Be Boys," a darker, more Rock 'n' Roll piece, with a very involved guitar part, at least for the verses, while the chorus picks it up into an almost Punk sort of frenzy, with echoing backup vocals. Broken down into its simplest explanation, "Boys Will Be Boys" is a social commentary on how people raise their children, as well as a statement on how children grow up and make their own decisions.
           Since the Yeller Bellies began their aural assault on Vegas, they have shared the stage with such bands and singer/songwriters as the Koffin Kats, Th' Legendary Shack Shakers, Jesse Dayton, Pine Hill Haints (with whom they once played a show at the bottom of an empty pool), Detroit Cobras, and the Chop Tops. All of them very notable bands and singer/songwriters. It is my guess that the Yeller Bellies can hold their own at such shows. And if they're playing with these types of bands and singer/songwriters already, I can't wait to see what the next few years will bring for them.
           As far as the individuality and specific characteristics of each band member, there's definitely no shortage; which is to say, there's Rob, with his outlaw appearance, wailing his lyrics at the top of his lungs, and rockin' savagely on his mandolin (of all things!). Then there's Mitch, with his cowboy hat and wolfman beard, holdin' his upright like his best lady, and yet thumpin' and slappin' it as if it were his worst enemy. In fact, in our interview, Mitch remarked on his cowboy hat, saying, "I wear my cowboy hat most of the time unless I'm indoors and it's hotter than hell; then the kilt comes out!" Jimmy is a good-humored guy with a look that suggests he was born a bit too late, sporting an awesome, perfectly groomed pompadour and chop-style sideburns, while he pounds his drum kit like a man possessed. We even discussed Jimmy's hair in our interview, at which time he said, "I decided to let the sideburns do their thing probably back in 2004 as a silent protest about what I thought were people's values and expectations, and also as a commentary about my own values and expectations. They were already there by the time I bought my first set of drums in Las Vegas. I had been watching the box set of the police drama Crime Story from the 80's, which is set in the 60's. In a flash of inspiration I walked in to my barber with the box set in hand and told him I wanted to do my hair like Ray Luca, the bad guy mobster in Crime Story. We worked for about a year to train him to give me the right haircut, and now I get it cut on schedule every three weeks. If it gets to long, it curls and won't stand up. It takes about ten minutes to style it for gigs and photos. Towel dry, two globs of mousse, and a blowdryer. Then I hammer it down with a serious hairspray---so much that it looks the same after a gig. It boils down to the right cut, the right natural body, and a few minutes with a blowdryer. And after four years I can whack it together in just a few minutes. It's now morphed from Ray Luca to Dirty Hairy to Wolverine and back to Dirty Hairy. It has it's moods. People expect to see my hair that way, and they seem to like it, so it probably won't change any time soon."
           Music has been good to these madmen of the dusty West, so much so that they are even acting in films and doing soundtracks. On this experience, Rob said, "The first film, which we have just completed filming for, is entitled Killer Biker Chicks, and was written by Regan Redding. The film is a throwback to 70's exploitation films and Russ Meyer. Low budget, murder, gratuitous nudity, etc. We all play bikers named after California prisons. I contacted Regan about doing a song for his film, and things went from there. We have written and recorded two songs for the film, and I will be on hand for the making of the soundtrack. The second film is called RUJOKIN, a comedy about a farmer and his ties to the mob. We have been approached by this project and have signed on, but we have yet to be involved."
           Truly, it's amazing what these lads have accomplished in such a short time. It's like they were meant to happen, that the Yeller Bellies were destined to form and make the music they're making. And, in the opinion of this writer, I see nothing but rapid progression and good things for this wild bunch of outlaw sinners from the Left Coast. For these cats, as Rob once told me, "Recording is secondary to writing, and writing is secondary to playing live." So support this band, as it exists solely to make you, their listeners, move, think, feel, and walk away inspired and better off for having listened to them.

http://www.myspace.com/yellerbellies