As the 1980s dawned, American punk found its voice. Hardcore acts scowled and grimaced in hundreds of regional scenes between Black Flag’s angry West and Minor Threat’s steely-eyed East. Despite hardcore’s sonic standardization, powerful music abounded–but humor floundered. So when a gloriously goofy band like The Meatmen emerged from that solemn landscape they became more than court jesters; Tesco Vee’s fraternity of sophomoric pottymouths were genuine rock ‘n’ roll heroes. At the time, few bands strove to put smiles on faces–even the brilliantly ridiculous Misfits would kick you in the head upon suggestion they weren’t dead serious. The Meatmen proved that punk need not be joyless.
Vee (Robert Vermuellen) was a Lansing, Michigan rock fan and Michigan State English student who eventually combined his love for loud music with his writing skills and launched a series of zines, including Touch and Go, which became a flame that attracted Midwest-scene mojo. By 1980 he had formed The Meatmen, obnoxious innovators who adapted hardcore’s sonic simplicity but rejected its non-theatricality. Tesco regularly took the the stage in leather sex garb and wielding props. After Necros bassist Corey Rusk helped Vee turn the Touch and Go zine into a record label, the Meatmen launched their ridiculous recording career and Rusk began building Touch and Go Records (now in its 26th year) into arguably one of the best indie labels in existence.
Releasing several EPs of ultra-offensive joke punk, the Meatmen (in less than an hour of material) managed to attack gays, women, the handicapped, the elderly, Rastafarians, onanists, aborted fetuses, Jack Grisham, and countless others. We’re the Meatmen and You Suck, their 1983 LP (really an expanded EP reissue), managed to render half-assed hate speech comical in part because of Tesco Vee’s transparently tenuous tightrope walk between articulate wordsmith and his inner dumbass.
The band soon dissolved and Vee relocated to Washington, DC, where the Meatmen had mysteriously made a big impression on righteous straight edgers. Reforming the band with Brian Baker and Lyle Preslar of Minor Threat, the ‘85 Meatmen proved to be the mightiest. With disciplined musicians behind him Vee expanded his comic visions, crafting songs that explored hard rock from the rawest punk to flamboyant metal, creating powerful sonic backdrops for motormouthed comedic rants. On War of the Superbikes and Rock ‘n Roll Juggernaut he skewered the fans, but also revealed himself to be one, celebrating clichés, covering favorite bands, and living a rock ‘n’ roll fantasy. Certainly the Meatmen continued to spew bile (forever telling us what sucks, be it crippled children, you, French people, you again), but Vee also found the freedom to move beyond insult comedy.
After this incarnation, the band dissolved in 1989 and Tesco briefly attempted to translate his humor to MTV. He then got back on the horse, fronting Tesco Vee’s Hate Police, then reforming the Meatmen. Though new lineups were consistently rocking, rarely did they provide as nurturing a backdrop for humor as his ’80s bands. Though several bright spots shone through, his obnoxiousness now seemed downright obnoxious. By 1997 the Meatmen were kaput.
There are many cult bands in music history whose haters are simply mistaken. If you believe that the music of Sun Ra, or X-Ray Spex, or AC/DC is not good–subjectivity be damned–you are wrong. However, the Meatmen do not fall into that category. It is completely reasonable for anyone turned off by posturings of homophobia, racism, sexism, or baby seal abuse to go ahead and hate them. Even if you’re a fan but you think their early work tries too little, their middle phase is overambitious, and their later work is ugly, I wouln’t argue. If you can’t get past Tesco’s lyrics (Trouser Press compared them to things assholes shout out of moving cars), fine. However, if you like the Meatmen, you do not suck. Tesco’s comedic stage presence, love of music (revealed by his cover songs), creative euphemisms for female genitalia (“pickle parlor,” “glorious gravy boat”), and relentless jesting make a case that his songcrafting is an act of joy, not an outlet of hate. Those who get the joke can dig the Meatmen shamelessly.
Recently Tesco reactivated the band, reissued most of the non-Touch and Go material, compiled a DVD, and took a new Meatmen on the road. Over the dozen years since the band last gave it a go plenty of things have sucked. If ever we needed an experienced “that sucks” finger-pointer the time is now–and if, as in 1982, we must learn once again that it is we that do the sucking, so be it. Welcome back Tesco!
Genius or heathen, social commenter or iconoclast, role model or laughable dumbass–no matter how you cast him, the Meatmen’s Tesco Vee never fell in the middle. With album titles like Crippled Children Suck, We’re the Meatmen…and You Suck! and Pope on a Rope, the comically irascible Vee (née Robert Vermeulen) helped draft the blueprint in the ’80s for politically incorrect punk to come. Now, after a 12-year absence, he’s formed a new version of the Meatmen, taken them on tour, reissued some records and is ready to challenge social mores once again with a covers album, Meatmen-style. From Lansing, Michigan, where he spent his teenage years and has raised his family for the past decade, Vee explains how absence has made his heart grow fonder and, more importantly, why we still suck.
Fuzz: Why, after 12 years, did you want to do the Meatmen again?
Tesco Vee: That’s the one my wife asked me a couple of times. “I thought you swore you were done!” I don’t know. I didn’t want to do it anymore. I moved back to Michigan and was all happy. And then John [Brannon] from Negative Approach called me and said, “Come on, man. We’re doing our first show in Detroit in 24 years.” First he said, “Come out and introduce us.” Then it was, “Do a couple songs.” Then it became a half-hour set, and the guys from NA backed me up. And, I don’t know, it felt good. It felt like I could still do this. I could still hop around in 120-degree heat and not have the big one.
Will you be writing any new music?
After we finish this covers CD and go to the well again and write a new album–I always call that climbin’ the mountain. Sometimes I think, like, with Pope on a Rope, I went for the throat and ripped the throat out and flogged everybody to death with it and now, where do I go from here? But I guess I’ll have to try.
What’s got you pissed off these days?
You name it. There’s plenty to be pissed off about. But it has to have the Tesco twist and be clever and funny and all that neat stuff.
Since you use humor so well, how serious have your rants been over the years?
In a way, it’s like don’t ask Van Gogh why he cut off his ear. Don’t ask me if I’m serious. Obviously, I’m a mean-spirited fellow, and some of that stuff I really feel. I think everybody has those feelings, but they don’t allow them to be verbalized or come out. They keep them quelled under layers of P.C. or just common sense, but I choose to let it all come out and I guess that’s my purpose on the planet, from my perspective.
Can you think of a time when one of your jokes got you in trouble?
Not specifically. I know where the flashpoints are, and I kind of dance around them, but, no, I’ve never been jacked up against a wall. Although [Long Beach hardcore group] T.S.O.L. did jack [Minor Threat/Meatmen guitarist] Brian Baker up against the wall in [Washington D.C.’s] 9:30 Club. This was sometime in the ’80s. And T.S.O.L. are big boys, and they found out about the [Meatmen’s] “T.S.O.L. Are Sissies” song and they were looking for me. I specifically did not go to that show. Them and all their roadies jacked Brian up against the wall.
Rather than bands you think are sissies, what punk bands have you liked lately?
Some of the punk I hear on XM is pretty good. Off the top of my head, the Casualties, Guttermouth and bands like that, that are sort of old school. Too much teenie punk, though. That’s the reason I came back. I needed to school this generation on how it’s done. I blame Green Day.
Speaking of making a change, you’re selling “Tesco Vee for President” stickers on your website. What would your first act in office be?
Probably legalizing marijuana. That’s needed to happen for a long time. I think I’m gonna plug [Fear frontman] Lee Ving as my running mate, too. I think it’s a marriage made in heaven–or hell.
Since it’s such a big part of your life, how did you explain the Meatmen to your kids?
I have a son and a daughter. They were raised around it and they always knew of it. And once my son was old enough to get into music, he was bragging to his friends that, “My dad is Tesco Vee.” He and my nephews were like, “We were born too late. You’ve gotta do this again.” My son and my two nephews are going out on the road with us now. And they’re the road crew and the drivers and the merch sellers, so it’s a family affair.
Your son gets to hand his dad an inflatable dick.
[Laughs] Exactly. What’s not to like? He scrawls “Son of Vee” in black paint on his chest, and comes out onstage in a gorilla mask and shoots confetti cannons. He’s having a good time.
Since information about you is so available online now, how do you feel about how you’ve been portrayed over the years?
I think I’m happy with it. People love me, people hate me. And there are people that want me to go away and go die. I got an email, because I have my contact info up, and some guy just said, “You were sucking my dad’s dick in Detroit in ’82.” And it’s like, “Wait a minute. Hold on. First of all…” But that’s fine. That’s one reaction. Other people tell me they love me. And that’s the reason I keep going. But when I look at my Wikipedia bio and all the things people have written about me, it’s all true. Well, it’s not all true. If it makes me more interesting than I really am, then that’s OK, too. Overall, I’d say I’m happy with my place in the world. When I die, I’ll have left quite a stain on the underpants of society.