Audio By Carbonatix
Rick Martinez, drummer for Denver’s Otter Popps, is definitely dedicated to his band. After all, one of the main reasons he’s upset that his 23-year-old brother, Otter Popps guitarist/vocalist Mike Martinez, is stuck in a Jefferson County work-release program until May 23 is because the combo was forced to cancel two shows.
Why Mike is in low-security stir is a matter of some mystery. Rick, who’s seventeen, says only that Mike, at a court officer’s insistence, took several “alcohol classes” two years ago but never paid for them. He’s been “messing with the system” since then, Rick adds, and when a deadline for payment elapsed, he had to turn himself in. As a result, Mike has spent the last six weeks cooking and doing dishes for others in the same boat as he, with two more weeks to go.
All of which leaves Rick and seventeen-year-old bassist Matt Bickel (the third Popp) with some unexpected time on their hands. Fortunately, they say they’ve received a lot of support from peers involved in the Mile High rock scene–even the ones with whom they don’t have much in common musically.
“Locally,” Bickel notes, “we don’t really mesh up with a lot of the other bands and what they’re playing. We tend to play just what we like, not what we think other people are going to think is going to sound good at all.”
Indeed, the Popps (named for the squishy frozen treats available in your local market) propagate an original vision–one epitomized by the tune “Orange Sherbert,” which requires the performers to shout “Orange sherbert sure is good/Eat it with some pickles/Eat it with some dirt” at regular intervals. Similarly eccentric is the tuneful “Blind People,” which needles sightless folks who attempt to watch TV because “they can’t see it anyway.” Mike, who spoke to Westword prior to being put on ice, insists that the ditty goes over quite well live, although he admits, “We haven’t actually played it for any blind people yet.”
Given their off-kilter worldview, it’s somewhat disconcerting to discover that the Popps would not exist if Rick and Bickel hadn’t met as children at a Northglenn church. In the years following that encounter, the duo began nurturing musical aspirations that received a shot in the arm with the addition of Mike, a member of the Denver punk act King Rat who joined the Otter Popps seven months ago.
“We’re a garbage-equipment band–a low-budget garage band trying to make it,” Mike notes, and he’s not exaggerating. The trio’s gear consists almost entirely of castoffs. For example, two of the Popps’ practice microphones were found in the trash near the band’s rehearsal space. For his part, Rick, a guitarist who became the combo’s drummer out of necessity, proudly claims never to have spent more than five dollars for a drum head. And Mike confesses that the group conned a pawn shop out of “like, $120” during the purchase of its only guitar amplifier. How? By surreptitiously snapping a speaker wire, then demanding a discount on the obviously broken item.
Fortunately, this bargain-basement approach hasn’t prevented the band from impressing listeners of all ages at original-music venues throughout Denver. But be warned: You aren’t likely to be bowled over by the band’s rhythmic authority. Bickel makes no pretense of being an accomplished bassist, while Rick attacks his kit like the transplanted guitarist he is. However, their shaggy enthusiasm and Mike’s full-throated vocals and snappy guitar riffing make up for a multitude of sins. Taken as a unit, the Popps invite favorable comparisons to such groups as Weezer and the Presidents of the United States of America.
Of course, the three lack the financial resources of the aforementioned outfits; Rick admits that the players would like to add a drummer so that he can move back to guitar, but they can’t afford to buy another amp right now. Instead, their money is going toward the completion of a five-song EP that should be available soon, as well as a possible summer tour.
In the meantime, Mike claims, “Music’s the only thing we do–it’s our life. We’re slackers.” To earn some additional folding green, though, the bandmembers have been known to take on occasional odd jobs–“all legal,” Mike is quick to add.
Still, Bickel concedes that Mike isn’t the only Popp to have run afoul of the authorities. He notes that the group had to stop rehearsing in his mother’s Westminster garage “because the police kept coming and telling us to stop.”
“But,” Mike interjects, “they always said it was good. They said they’d be standing out there and jamming out” before ordering the musicians to pull their plugs.
At present, the cops have no reason to complain about the boys; the justice system has temporarily silenced them. But come May 23, watch out. Because the Otter Popps will be back on the streets.
