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A moment came in the early 1980s when Victor DeLorenzo, drummer for the Milwaukee folk-punk band Violent Femmes, smacked his snare twice, then double-struck again.

You know this beat. You’ve heard it in baseball stadiums, basketball arenas. You’ve heard it in bars, while driving, in TV commercials, in the 1997 John Cusack hit-man comedy Grosse Pointe Blank. It’s one of the most recognizable drumbeats in rock and roll history. All it takes is a few seconds of “Blister in the Sun,” opening track on the band’s 1983 platinum-selling debut album, and you can fire up thousands of people in a crowd.

Thirty years after “Blister” was released, DeLorenzo watched 65,000 Femmes fans in the desert at Coachella sing along and air-drum to this rollicking classic, with its ringtone-zippy acoustic bass line, gunshot percussion, and teen-angst lyrics (“When I’m out walking/ I strut my stuff/ and I’m so strung out” — smack-smack, smack-smack!).

We caught up with the legendary percussionist at his Milwaukee home studio, the Past Office, not far from where the Femmes got the attention of Chrissie Hynde and the Pretenders back in 1981. These days DeLorenzo plays in a drums-cello duo called Nineteen Thirteen, named for the year cellist Janet Schiff’s Romanian instrument was made. He also paints, produces music, collaborates with his three musical children (son Malachi drums for Langhorne Slim and is an L.A.-based producer himself), and is gearing up to get back into acting, his first love. Will he ever reunite with bassist Brian Ritchie and singer/guitarist Gordon Gano for another Femmes go-round, continuing his on-again, off-again relationship with the band?

“If a chance came up to do a really good show, like Coachella,” DeLorenzo muses, adding that his preference would be to gig the way they began: a trio, no one else onstage, their musical mayhem driven only by his minimal kit, Ritchie’s bass, and Gano’s guitar.

Here’s more of our conversation with one of music’s most innovative drummers.

We’re close to where Chrissie Hynde first heard you guys. Can you tell that story?

The Femmes had a couple places where we liked to busk. One of them was underneath the marquee at the Oriental Theatre. One afternoon we were out there and this guy comes out of the theater, listens for a minute, kind of laughs. He heads to the corner drugstore, comes back, listens, smiles, heads into the theater. Ten minutes later he and four others come out. It’s the Pretenders, but we didn’t know. We were listening to Hank Williams then. Sun Ra. The Velvet Underground. They all lean against a car, listening, and eventually we start playing “Girl Trouble.” When it gets to the chorus — “I got girl trouble up the ass” — Chrissie Hynde starts laughing like crazy. She thinks it’s fantastic. She comes up and says, “Do you guys want to play a gig tonight?” We say, “Where?” She says, “Here. You know, play three songs or something. We can’t pay you but you can have some food backstage.”

So we play the gig. The warm-up act, a horn band, finishes, and guys start setting up for the Pretenders. The lights go down, the audience starts clapping, and then these three dorks come out onstage. People start groaning. Of course now everyone says they were at that gig and were rooting for us. I will say by the third song we had won over a few people.

How did the Femmes begin?

A musician friend of mine suggested I might want to meet this interesting bass player, and so I met Brian, and we did a little playing and thought it sounded pretty good. At first we were just a rhythm section. We went around town — we’d back a blues guy, a country guy, a couple rock guys. Then this same friend said, “You know, there’s another kid on the scene you might want to check out. He’s like a pint-sized Lou Reed imitator.”

This was summer 1981. I’d just gotten back from Europe with Theater X, an experimental theater company I’d become a part of, having replaced Willem Dafoe when he moved to New York. Brian and I used to practice on the third floor of the theater building, which was empty then. Anyway, we went and saw Gordon play and afterward we asked him if he might want to join us. Gordon said [imitates Gano], “Yes, that would be nice.”

The first time we all played together, we sat in with Gordon at a café. Brian had just put bass strings on an acoustic guitar, so it wasn’t even a bass per se — he’d play it mariachi-style — and I had my snare and brushes. We just improvised, playing all these songs that ended up on the first album. We didn’t even know the changes. I had my cassette-recorder going, and we later included a song from that gig, “Johnny,” on a deluxe version of the album. What Brian and I did, improvising — that became one of the hallmarks of the Femmes. We used to rehearse new songs in front of audiences. People didn’t know what to expect. It could be a little bit of heaven, a little bit of hell. That’s what made us dangerous.

How’d you get the name Violent Femmes?

It came before we even knew Gordon existed. Brian’s brother also played music and one day a guy asked him if his brother played in a band. Brian liked putting guys on, so off the top of his head he said, “Yeah, the Violent Femmes.” He just made it up on the spot. Back then “femme” was local slang for crybaby, so he was also goofing on his brother. But a few days later Brian said, “Hey, I got a name for us.” And he hit me with it. I remember thinking, It doesn’t matter if people like it or don’t, at least they won’t forget it.

Any gigs or tours stand out?

I was just talking to someone about this. The B-52s. That was my favorite tour. We went around America in a couple of buses. They’re the nicest people in the world. That was the first time we really melded with another band to create a touring family — no weirdness, no hierarchy, watching each other play every night. I just love them. Kate, Fred, everybody. The joy, the humor. They’re so sharp, they’re politically aware. Fred was always cracking me up. [Imitates Fred Schneider in “Love Shack”] “And bring your jukebox money!”

“We used to rehearse new songs in front of audiences. People didn’t know what to expect. It could be a little bit of heaven, a little bit of hell.”

As far as individual shows, Carnegie Hall was a big one. Something incredible happened when we were onstage. We had this song “Black Girls,” and in the middle of it there’s a drum feature — I call it a feature, not a solo, since drums can’t play by themselves — and I was getting ready to play the feature, vamping on the drums, my eyes closed, thinking about all the great musicians — jazz musicians, classical musicians — that had played on this stage. We’d worked so hard to get to this point. Our parents were in the audience. Suddenly Brian starts hitting me. I open my eyes and people had stormed the stage. We were surrounded. The ushers didn’t know what to do — they’d never dealt with this before. We had to go to the dressing room and they made an announcement. We were the last show before a renovation, so maybe that’s why we got to play there. Almost like they didn’t care if all the punk-rock people wrecked the place [laughs].

The Ramones was another gig that stands out. Just a club show, somewhere down south. I remember Brian and I went and knocked on their dressing-room door — we wanted to tell them how excited we were to play with them — and Joey answered. I’ll never forget it; Joey turns and says, “Hey, you guys, look who’s here. It’s the Violent Feems!”

The last show I’d mention was the Grateful Dead. Jerry [Garcia] was still alive. The crowd was about the same size as Coachella. They set up this huge operation in the middle of nowhere in Ohio. I remember during sound check, there were air-conditioning ducts built into the floor of the stage, blowing cool air. We just played for a half hour or so, but I remember at one point looking stage-left and there was Jerry and Bob Weir, kind of nodding their heads, digging it a little.

After Coachella and a couple more reunion gigs, how come you didn’t continue?

I love the music we made with the Femmes. I’m very proud of it. But at that time, 2013, the band didn’t really have any new material and I’d embarked on this new adventure with Nineteen Thirteen. I’d played those Femmes songs thousands of times. With Nineteen Thirteen, playing with Janet, you never feel stuck in a situation where money and fame, or band interactions, are dictating anything. There’s a great sense of freedom. I’m as excited as I’ve ever been musically. I’ve reacquired my taste for recording and producing. I love the challenge of using my drums to showcase Janet’s instrument in different ways. Every time we get together there’s a sense of discovery, of going into the unknown.

Janet uses a looping pedal with her amplified cello to build this hypnotic, layered sound, playing live over loops. Do you have a thumbnail to describe the band?

Janet likes to refer to it as “chamber rock.” She brings her classical sense, and I bring my love of jazz drumming and my rock pedigree — weirdo rock, folk-punk, alternative rock, whatever you want to call my tenure with the Femmes. But I’m not sure if I have the sound pegged in my own mind — that’s part of the fun. I’m always curious to hear what people say after they hear us. A lot of people say it fills their mind with cinematic images. Sometimes they tell us they like to close their eyes and let their mind flood with dreams as they listen. We like that. We’re happy to encourage some kind of somnambulistic awareness!

Nineteen Thirteen has opened for the Avett Brothers, and Langhorne Slim. You’re about to play with Jill Sobule. Any other memorable gigs recently?

We played with David J of Bauhaus and Love & Rockets down in Chicago. We opened and then backed him on 12 songs. We have plans to play together in the future. Here’s a funny sidenote. When I was first talking to David, he said the Femmes were the biggest influence on Bauhaus. I said, “C’mon, David!” He said, “I’m dead serious. We loved the Femmes. The freedom involved, the fun, the lyrical content, the music, the darkness, all of it.”

What’s next for Nineteen Thirteen?

In mid-September, we release a new album, Sci-Fi Romance. It’s got some keyboards; I sing on two songs. My daughters Kiko and Peri contribute vocals. Peri plays violin. Janet and I have plans to start some touring. We’d love to get to Europe. We really enjoy presenting our music live. We like watching the faces of people who have never heard us. They look at the stage and think, Hmmm, a boy-girl act. A cello. Not even a full drum set. A little amplifier. Will this work? Is this gonna be boring? But then we start playing, and people start smiling. Inevitably someone comes up to us after a gig and says, “I had no idea what you guys would sound like, but I liked it a lot.”

“I find I’ve become a creature of reissue. It’s exciting to me both as a fan and as an engineer that some of this stuff is not simply remastered but remixed, as in the case of Sgt. Pepper’s.”

What’s a typical day for you like?

I don’t have a bona fide routine, thank God. Every day is a little different. But I find as I get older I don’t sleep as much. I love classic movies on TCM — sometimes I’ll stay up until three or four in the morning, watching old movies, but I still get up at 8 A.M. Sometimes I’ll just stay up all night. I’m always working on something, thinking about something. A musical thing I want to propose to Janet. An art piece — I’ve gotten back into painting. I create what I call water-collages, with watercolors and cut paper. One of them’s on the back of the new album. I go on research binges. I get sidetracked into different things — recently I researched James Dean. Last month I had a Marilyn Monroe night — I went crazy learning about her life. Some of this is to further myself as an actor, which I want to get back into. I love private study. Remember when we had to go to a library or talk to someone to learn about something? In this day and age, so much is online. I try to take advantage of that.

What music are you listening to these days?

I find I’ve become a creature of reissue. It’s exciting to me both as a fan and as an engineer that some of this stuff is not simply remastered but remixed, as in the case of Sgt. Pepper’s. And, oh my God, the first album by The Band. We might get a remixed White Album, too. After my cousin, God bless him, introduced me to the Beatles when I was 16, I listened to almost only them for six years, in terms of rock. The Beatles and jazz. [Points to a CD] The new Coltrane. The Lost Album. I listen to all the jazzers, and I lean toward the outside, the free stuff. I have a brand-new turntable, too, so I’m falling back in love with my record collection. And starting a new collection.

Last question. You’re a Packers fan. Excited about the season?

I look forward to every season. I love watching them play. Win or lose. But these days I watch other teams, too. I just love the game. I’ve come to appreciate the game. The strategy behind it, the stamina of the players, the stars. TCM and the Packers. Good pastimes.

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Beat Master

Storyline

A moment came in the early 1980s when Victor DeLorenzo, drummer for the Milwaukee folk-punk band Violent Femmes, smacked his snare twice, then double-struck again.

You know this beat. You’ve heard it in baseball stadiums, basketball arenas. You’ve heard it in bars, while driving, in TV commercials, in the 1997 John Cusack hit-man comedy Grosse Pointe Blank. It’s one of the most recognizable drumbeats in rock and roll history. All it takes is a few seconds of “Blister in the Sun,” opening track on the band’s 1983 platinum-selling debut album, and you can fire up thousands of people in a crowd.

Thirty years after “Blister” was released, DeLorenzo watched 65,000 Femmes fans in the desert at Coachella sing along and air-drum to this rollicking classic, with its ringtone-zippy acoustic bass line, gunshot percussion, and teen-angst lyrics (“When I’m out walking/ I strut my stuff/ and I’m so strung out” — smack-smack, smack-smack!).

We caught up with the legendary percussionist at his Milwaukee home studio, the Past Office, not far from where the Femmes got the attention of Chrissie Hynde and the Pretenders back in 1981. These days DeLorenzo plays in a drums-cello duo called Nineteen Thirteen, named for the year cellist Janet Schiff’s Romanian instrument was made. He also paints, produces music, collaborates with his three musical children (son Malachi drums for Langhorne Slim and is an L.A.-based producer himself), and is gearing up to get back into acting, his first love. Will he ever reunite with bassist Brian Ritchie and singer/guitarist Gordon Gano for another Femmes go-round, continuing his on-again, off-again relationship with the band?

“If a chance came up to do a really good show, like Coachella,” DeLorenzo muses, adding that his preference would be to gig the way they began: a trio, no one else onstage, their musical mayhem driven only by his minimal kit, Ritchie’s bass, and Gano’s guitar.

Here’s more of our conversation with one of music’s most innovative drummers.

We’re close to where Chrissie Hynde first heard you guys. Can you tell that story?

The Femmes had a couple places where we liked to busk. One of them was underneath the marquee at the Oriental Theatre. One afternoon we were out there and this guy comes out of the theater, listens for a minute, kind of laughs. He heads to the corner drugstore, comes back, listens, smiles, heads into the theater. Ten minutes later he and four others come out. It’s the Pretenders, but we didn’t know. We were listening to Hank Williams then. Sun Ra. The Velvet Underground. They all lean against a car, listening, and eventually we start playing “Girl Trouble.” When it gets to the chorus — “I got girl trouble up the ass” — Chrissie Hynde starts laughing like crazy. She thinks it’s fantastic. She comes up and says, “Do you guys want to play a gig tonight?” We say, “Where?” She says, “Here. You know, play three songs or something. We can’t pay you but you can have some food backstage.”

So we play the gig. The warm-up act, a horn band, finishes, and guys start setting up for the Pretenders. The lights go down, the audience starts clapping, and then these three dorks come out onstage. People start groaning. Of course now everyone says they were at that gig and were rooting for us. I will say by the third song we had won over a few people.

How did the Femmes begin?

A musician friend of mine suggested I might want to meet this interesting bass player, and so I met Brian, and we did a little playing and thought it sounded pretty good. At first we were just a rhythm section. We went around town — we’d back a blues guy, a country guy, a couple rock guys. Then this same friend said, “You know, there’s another kid on the scene you might want to check out. He’s like a pint-sized Lou Reed imitator.”

This was summer 1981. I’d just gotten back from Europe with Theater X, an experimental theater company I’d become a part of, having replaced Willem Dafoe when he moved to New York. Brian and I used to practice on the third floor of the theater building, which was empty then. Anyway, we went and saw Gordon play and afterward we asked him if he might want to join us. Gordon said [imitates Gano], “Yes, that would be nice.”

The first time we all played together, we sat in with Gordon at a café. Brian had just put bass strings on an acoustic guitar, so it wasn’t even a bass per se — he’d play it mariachi-style — and I had my snare and brushes. We just improvised, playing all these songs that ended up on the first album. We didn’t even know the changes. I had my cassette-recorder going, and we later included a song from that gig, “Johnny,” on a deluxe version of the album. What Brian and I did, improvising — that became one of the hallmarks of the Femmes. We used to rehearse new songs in front of audiences. People didn’t know what to expect. It could be a little bit of heaven, a little bit of hell. That’s what made us dangerous.

How’d you get the name Violent Femmes?

It came before we even knew Gordon existed. Brian’s brother also played music and one day a guy asked him if his brother played in a band. Brian liked putting guys on, so off the top of his head he said, “Yeah, the Violent Femmes.” He just made it up on the spot. Back then “femme” was local slang for crybaby, so he was also goofing on his brother. But a few days later Brian said, “Hey, I got a name for us.” And he hit me with it. I remember thinking, It doesn’t matter if people like it or don’t, at least they won’t forget it.

Any gigs or tours stand out?

I was just talking to someone about this. The B-52s. That was my favorite tour. We went around America in a couple of buses. They’re the nicest people in the world. That was the first time we really melded with another band to create a touring family — no weirdness, no hierarchy, watching each other play every night. I just love them. Kate, Fred, everybody. The joy, the humor. They’re so sharp, they’re politically aware. Fred was always cracking me up. [Imitates Fred Schneider in “Love Shack”] “And bring your jukebox money!”

“We used to rehearse new songs in front of audiences. People didn’t know what to expect. It could be a little bit of heaven, a little bit of hell.”

As far as individual shows, Carnegie Hall was a big one. Something incredible happened when we were onstage. We had this song “Black Girls,” and in the middle of it there’s a drum feature — I call it a feature, not a solo, since drums can’t play by themselves — and I was getting ready to play the feature, vamping on the drums, my eyes closed, thinking about all the great musicians — jazz musicians, classical musicians — that had played on this stage. We’d worked so hard to get to this point. Our parents were in the audience. Suddenly Brian starts hitting me. I open my eyes and people had stormed the stage. We were surrounded. The ushers didn’t know what to do — they’d never dealt with this before. We had to go to the dressing room and they made an announcement. We were the last show before a renovation, so maybe that’s why we got to play there. Almost like they didn’t care if all the punk-rock people wrecked the place [laughs].

The Ramones was another gig that stands out. Just a club show, somewhere down south. I remember Brian and I went and knocked on their dressing-room door — we wanted to tell them how excited we were to play with them — and Joey answered. I’ll never forget it; Joey turns and says, “Hey, you guys, look who’s here. It’s the Violent Feems!”

The last show I’d mention was the Grateful Dead. Jerry [Garcia] was still alive. The crowd was about the same size as Coachella. They set up this huge operation in the middle of nowhere in Ohio. I remember during sound check, there were air-conditioning ducts built into the floor of the stage, blowing cool air. We just played for a half hour or so, but I remember at one point looking stage-left and there was Jerry and Bob Weir, kind of nodding their heads, digging it a little.

After Coachella and a couple more reunion gigs, how come you didn’t continue?

I love the music we made with the Femmes. I’m very proud of it. But at that time, 2013, the band didn’t really have any new material and I’d embarked on this new adventure with Nineteen Thirteen. I’d played those Femmes songs thousands of times. With Nineteen Thirteen, playing with Janet, you never feel stuck in a situation where money and fame, or band interactions, are dictating anything. There’s a great sense of freedom. I’m as excited as I’ve ever been musically. I’ve reacquired my taste for recording and producing. I love the challenge of using my drums to showcase Janet’s instrument in different ways. Every time we get together there’s a sense of discovery, of going into the unknown.

Janet uses a looping pedal with her amplified cello to build this hypnotic, layered sound, playing live over loops. Do you have a thumbnail to describe the band?

Janet likes to refer to it as “chamber rock.” She brings her classical sense, and I bring my love of jazz drumming and my rock pedigree — weirdo rock, folk-punk, alternative rock, whatever you want to call my tenure with the Femmes. But I’m not sure if I have the sound pegged in my own mind — that’s part of the fun. I’m always curious to hear what people say after they hear us. A lot of people say it fills their mind with cinematic images. Sometimes they tell us they like to close their eyes and let their mind flood with dreams as they listen. We like that. We’re happy to encourage some kind of somnambulistic awareness!

Nineteen Thirteen has opened for the Avett Brothers, and Langhorne Slim. You’re about to play with Jill Sobule. Any other memorable gigs recently?

We played with David J of Bauhaus and Love & Rockets down in Chicago. We opened and then backed him on 12 songs. We have plans to play together in the future. Here’s a funny sidenote. When I was first talking to David, he said the Femmes were the biggest influence on Bauhaus. I said, “C’mon, David!” He said, “I’m dead serious. We loved the Femmes. The freedom involved, the fun, the lyrical content, the music, the darkness, all of it.”

What’s next for Nineteen Thirteen?

In mid-September, we release a new album, Sci-Fi Romance. It’s got some keyboards; I sing on two songs. My daughters Kiko and Peri contribute vocals. Peri plays violin. Janet and I have plans to start some touring. We’d love to get to Europe. We really enjoy presenting our music live. We like watching the faces of people who have never heard us. They look at the stage and think, Hmmm, a boy-girl act. A cello. Not even a full drum set. A little amplifier. Will this work? Is this gonna be boring? But then we start playing, and people start smiling. Inevitably someone comes up to us after a gig and says, “I had no idea what you guys would sound like, but I liked it a lot.”

“I find I’ve become a creature of reissue. It’s exciting to me both as a fan and as an engineer that some of this stuff is not simply remastered but remixed, as in the case of Sgt. Pepper’s.”

What’s a typical day for you like?

I don’t have a bona fide routine, thank God. Every day is a little different. But I find as I get older I don’t sleep as much. I love classic movies on TCM — sometimes I’ll stay up until three or four in the morning, watching old movies, but I still get up at 8 A.M. Sometimes I’ll just stay up all night. I’m always working on something, thinking about something. A musical thing I want to propose to Janet. An art piece — I’ve gotten back into painting. I create what I call water-collages, with watercolors and cut paper. One of them’s on the back of the new album. I go on research binges. I get sidetracked into different things — recently I researched James Dean. Last month I had a Marilyn Monroe night — I went crazy learning about her life. Some of this is to further myself as an actor, which I want to get back into. I love private study. Remember when we had to go to a library or talk to someone to learn about something? In this day and age, so much is online. I try to take advantage of that.

What music are you listening to these days?

I find I’ve become a creature of reissue. It’s exciting to me both as a fan and as an engineer that some of this stuff is not simply remastered but remixed, as in the case of Sgt. Pepper’s. And, oh my God, the first album by The Band. We might get a remixed White Album, too. After my cousin, God bless him, introduced me to the Beatles when I was 16, I listened to almost only them for six years, in terms of rock. The Beatles and jazz. [Points to a CD] The new Coltrane. The Lost Album. I listen to all the jazzers, and I lean toward the outside, the free stuff. I have a brand-new turntable, too, so I’m falling back in love with my record collection. And starting a new collection.

Last question. You’re a Packers fan. Excited about the season?

I look forward to every season. I love watching them play. Win or lose. But these days I watch other teams, too. I just love the game. I’ve come to appreciate the game. The strategy behind it, the stamina of the players, the stars. TCM and the Packers. Good pastimes.

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