Aleixa is an industrial band from Northern Virginia. Formed at Virginia Tech, the band (composed of Mr. Kevin 131 and Ms. Laurel Snapper) is releasing their second album, I Have No Idea, on July 21, 1999. Aleixa has received mixed reviews from the Christian music industry because of their strong, dark lyrics. I caught up with Kevin and Laurel one Sunday night at their church in McLean, Virginia to discuss their lyrics, among other things. Here’s what they told me…

How did the band start?

L: Well, it started in a small, mid-west town about thirty seven years ago… (ha, ha) We were both at Virginia Tech. I don’t even remember how we met. Kevin had been writing stuff for a long time, and I guess it was about senior year, when he asked me if I could sing some stuff for his band.

K: And she hasn’t escaped ’since.

Kevin, how did you get involved with industrial music, seeing as how the equipment is so expensive and how it would take a great deal of dedication and commitment to such music?

K: Wealthy parents! No, I was in this band called the Drowning Seasons, which was like Black Sabbath meets Depeche Mode or something. From there, I started getting into the synth thing. I’ve played in other bands before. I was playing in death metal bands. I played drums, and that’s where I got the interest in drum programming, ‘cuz you could program cool drum stuff that no one could physically play. So, that’s how I got into the programming. Laurel can actually play keyboard better than I can. I’m like the “One Note Wonder” guy.

L: I can play two at one time.

So, what do you two do, as far as jobs outside of the band go?

L: Make sandwiches in a deli.

K: I record cheesy bands like Ghoti Hook. No, I’m an audio engineer. I record bands for a living.

L: I work on Capitol Hill for a representative from Texas. Right now I’m just reading the paper. It can get pretty hectic. It comes and goes… If we’re in session, then we’re totally busy. If they’re not in session, then it’s really calm. It’s like a multiple personality disorder. Basically, I’m a staff assistant, which isn’t much of anything. A little bit of this—a little bit of that.

K: Don’t let her fool you. She’s downplaying what she does. She’s a lot more important than she’s making herself out to be.

L: Nuh-uh. Ok, I make copies, too.

K: That’s a very important job.

Ok, who writes the songs?

K: Barry Manilow.

L: Elvis.

K: That’s just too easy… We write them together.

L: The bulk of it Kevin writes.

K: It really starts with the programming. From there, I work on it until I’m sick of it. Laurel takes it and does something with the vocals. Or I’ll have general rhythm idea or lyrics, and she’ll come down and take it from there. I’ll try to butcher out the melody line to her, which is actually the funniest part of doing the demos, ‘cuz I can’t sing worth a darn.

L: The lyrics on the first album were mostly written by Kevin, because a lot of that stuff had been written before and had been around for a little while. But some of the newer stuff I write, and Kevin takes it and moves it around, throws in some stuff, and it’s an evil concoction.

I guess something that’s been overplayed is your dark, moody lyrics.

K: ‘Cuz we’re so evil! You can tell how evil we are, can’t you?

L: Yeah that’s really the first reaction we get. It seems to be strong one way or the other, but I guess most of the responses that we’ve gotten are from people who like to know that someone else is as depressed as they are! Ha! No, they like that you can talk about bad things without it being bad. It’s OK to laugh, but it’s also OK to be sad.

K: (To Laurel) But it’s all about balance. I don’t think there are any happy songs on your album, Laurel Snapper.

L: Oh yeah? Well, didn’t you hear Joey’s remix of “Unloved?”

K: But that’s one song out of twelve. How do you defend the rest of your songs? It’s not a very balanced record. And what about that song “Spark?” That’s a pretty dark song. How do you explain that?

L: Uh… “Some things here seem a bit harsh…” No, actually, because the lyrics are really dark, the distributor/president of the record company wanted us to put a little explanation in there on the first CD…

K: First, they asked if we’d cut a few songs or edit them. We said “no,” and the compromise was that we’d put that disclaimer in the CD booklet. We get a lot of e-mails and stuff from people saying, “Oh, that’s cool. I like the fact that you put that disclaimer on your record.” That was encouraging, but the majority of responses were, “I can’t believe Diamante wasn’t gonna put out that record!” Which is really cool for us. But at the same time, we get letters saying, “You guys are evil!”

How about shows? You guys are an industrial band. As far as I know, you all don’t play many shows.

K: No, I don’t really enjoy playing live that much. Well, I actually enjoy the playing part, but it’s a lot of hassle.

L: It’s a lot of gear. It’s not just guitars, drums and stuff. There’s a lot more stuff involved.

K: To me, the fun stuff is the writing and recording, you know? Playing is optional. I think a lot of bands are the opposite. Which is cool. They enjoy playing. For us (we’ve had this discussion), it’s like why bother to do something you don’t enjoy that much. We’ve played live. We have a good live show and people seem to dig it, so we kind of pick and choose the shows that we’ll play. It doesn’t make sense to go to some place and play for twenty people and have them all go “Uhhh… Wur they sayin’ murder somethin’?” That’s not really worth it to us.

Speaking of the “Murder” song…

L: (To Kevin) You just had to bring it up, didn’t you?

K: D’oh!

I actually though it was a song dealing with Reformed Christian theology. I Could Murder—is that about just feeling depressed and angry, or does it deal with the depravity of man and his sinful nature?

K: It’s talking about the depravity of Laurel.

L: It’s just about….

K: …three minutes long.

L: Ha, ha! You took the punch line! Just for that, you have to answer.

K: I can only write about what I know. It’s written from personal experience. Being angry at someone is like “I Could Murder.” There is a little theological twist in there. That one line “Where’s your god. He’s not on the inside.” That’s talking about the outside vs. inside stuff. Sometimes you can tell by the way somebody acts. God is evident in their outside actions.

L: As far as Biblical verses, we don’t pick a theme for a song. Verses have inspired titles and parts of songs, but that’s about it.

Well, that’s it. Is there anything about Aleixa that you would like people to know?

K: This entire interview is dedicated to Leigh Bingham-Nash.

It was 10 PM. I exited the Mariott and the valet, a very nice older gentleman, waved down a cab for me. He asked me where I was headed, and after telling him, he shook his head and said, “No, no, no. Go to Webster. It’s much nicer.” I smiled, thanked him for his suggestion, but told him I needed to go to the Limelight.

When I got into the cab, the valet told the driver to take me to the Webster Club. Shocked, I informed the driver of my true destination. As we headed off, I began to wonder why the valet had tried so hard to deter me from going to the Limelight.

In the cab, I realized the meter was super fast. Limelight was not very far from the Marriot. It should have cost around $3 for the ride, but instead, I paid almost $7.

When I got there, I saw a small crowd of gothic-looking men loitering outside the building (or cathedral, really). It was a real welcoming bunch of people, with their white powdered faces and black lips. I assure you I would have played jacks with them had I not been so eager to enter the club.

Several flights of stairs greeted me as I entered. I began to think I had somehow managed to get in for free, that is, until I hit the ticket booth at the top of the stairs. Twenty bucks was the door charge, and though expensive, I didn’t seem to have a problem with it.

Finally, entering the main dance hall, I was truly breathless at the sight of the magnificent Limelight club. I had never before been to a dance club, but it was hard for me to imagine any other club being more awesome than this one. Immediately, I saw a mass of humans pulsing up and down with the amazingly loud and powerful, rib-shaking techno beats. I looked up, and along the walls were not only spectacular stain-glass windows, but there were two floors of balcony catwalks, circling around the massive room. The balconies, probably used for choir lofts originally, were filled to the brim with ravers and shakers, and the main floor was literally over flowing.

I started off by walking along the walls, observing the layout of the place. I left the main hall and found several other rooms. There was a room playing nothing but hip-hop, another room playing insanely weird music, and some additional rooms on various floors, where certain things, that you probably don’t want to hear about, happened.

After seeing all there was to see concerning the structure of the cathedral (and indeed, there was much to see), I returned to the main techno-drowned room, where the best lighting, sound and action was located.

For the first ten or so minutes, I found myself just standing along the walls, watching everybody else. Like I said, I’ve never been to a club before, and dancing was an activity I just don’t do. But, figuring that this was the absolute best dance club (plus the fact that I had paid $20 to get in), I adamantly pushed aside the normal me and jumped into the great mass of techno dancing.

It was hard to look sillier than most of the people there. The fact is, I did dance. And it was fun. Getting over the initial embarrassment of the whole thing is the first step. The second is actually looking like you know what you’re doing (which again, isn’t too hard). And the third, as I sadly discovered, was to vehemently hunt for a person who, when they looked at you, didn’t turn around, but rather took a step toward you and gave you a smile.

Of course, I had gone there by myself, but it would have been pointless to dance alone. So after steps one and two, I engaged in number three and soon found myself face-to-face with a very cool, blond raver chick. After that, the dancing was much more fun and there seemed to be more of a point to it all.

Whenever I got thirsty, I ordered a water at the bar. Sometimes I would get it free from the tap, but other times the bar tender would charge me $4 for a small bottled water. There were two bar tenders. Soon I figured out which one was best to order from.

As I leaned up against the bar and watched the ravers do their thing, I began singing Steve Taylor’s “This Disco” repeatedly in my head. Over and over it went. This disco used to be a cute cathedral. I looked at that energetic, blond raver sitting beside me and thought about several different things. This disco, I thought. Used to be a cute cathedral.

Turning my head one way, I saw a couple of those white-faced, black-lipped gentlemen against the wall. Looking behind me, I saw a man with pretty much nothing on but a giant collar attached to a long and heavy chain. In the darkness behind the bar, I saw couples making use of some of the available couches in the back.

In all my years, I’ve learned many things. Experience and knowledge are, indeed, great tools in life. I sat there a couple minutes, and Steve Taylor’s song took on an additional, new meaning to me. I finished my water and turned to the wonderful girl who granted an enjoyable evening to a young man who went to a dance club by himself. And with an effort I may at times now or in the future regret, I told her goodbye.

I didn’t look back. I left the Limelight and caught a cab back to the hotel. It was 4 AM when I got back. It wasn’t the same valet at the door this time. The walk to my hotel room was long and thought-filled. I was pretty much too tired to appreciate the fact that the cab fair was only $3 this time. I smiled to myself, but that was all.