Elite TV. By Elizabeth Licorish. Mook: Not Your Average Gandhi Band.

“The reason we do this is to pick up girls. It worked in high school…but then it got complicated.”

So joked Mook from the back of a Philadelphia bar, away from the lump of ladies that were lingering long after the show had ended.

While Paul Dano, Rob Bruce, Chris Johnson, and Dan Kreiger may have started Mook as a high school effort to pick up chicks, the ‘Eggs’ they eventually created are a lot more than a fusion of girls and rock. In fact, the music of Mook can be anything anyone wants it to be.

After hearing Mook live, I was totally satisfied with the rock melodies that shifted imperceptibly between songs and the uninhibited way in which they were played. I was most interested in learning about the lyrics that floated through their sound in a style both peculiar and inviting.

Mook’s keyboardist Dan pointed out that there are two types of people when it comes to ‘getting’ music: those who hear the music first and those who hear the lyrics first. Dan (like this writer) is a ‘music’ person, and perhaps it’s this approach to song that best explains Mook’s lyrics, words they hope will ‘seep in and make musical meaning’, like an intuitive connection. As Dan (so philosophically) put it, “We like to push the music into people and then out come the lyrics.” Paul added, “You don’t have to understand to enjoy.” The band as a whole is really more interested in the reaction to their lyrics than the ideas and emotions behind them.

This is good to know.

I’ve often felt a sort of secret silliness in trying to interpret the meaning of music. And it’s this embarrassment at having quite likely ‘gotten it all wrong’ that really shakes my enjoyment of the stuff. If Mook’s lyrics are a free-for-all, I’m certainly on board, but this liberty isn’t what makes the Mook ensemble most enjoyable

There were definitely limits in making their first demo ‘The Eggs’, which was created in Paul’s parents’ attic. As the group develops its first full length album, they hope to use more ‘sophisticated’ means of recording, but there is something organic in Mook that befits even attic sound. Playing at ‘The Fire’, a Philly bar that gets its name less from its energy and more from the neighboring fire station, the group infused a kind of tranquility into the crowd that grew larger and more relaxed as it listened. Mook’s act is the type of show where people plop down on the floor like kids at a story hour, sit on their hands, and just watch.

Of course their sound isn’t totally alien, but I enjoyed it completely in its self. Listening to Mook, I wasn’t able to throw them into any already existing clad of rock bands. I felt no annoying, tip-of-the-tongue comparison, the kind I so often feel compelled to make when I hear a new sound: “Oh, they sound like so and so,” “Are you sure they aren’t so and so?,” “Well, with so and so on the scene, why’d these guys bother?” Though their fan base is generally attracted to Mook for Mook’s sake, all four guys agree that when they’re compared to another band, it’s usually The Doors. “There is definitely a performance aspect to Mook, a theatrical element,” said Dan.

It really comes down to the fact that Mook’s sound is more about convergence than uniformity; all four members take their inspiration from very different places. Rob works off of ‘everything Beck’s ever done’, Chris loves James Brown and Stevie Wonder, Paul takes inspiration from mostly Tom Waits and Fiona Apple, and Dan wavers indecisively between Biggie and Beethoven.

So just what is a Mook? They had cows on their posters, so at first I imagined that someone had a thing for cows (or found them to be particularly musical) and that the name “Mook” was just a barnyard sound with a silent ‘k.’ But “Mook” actually means ‘insignificant’ which makes it perfect to describe people as well as cows. And so, of course, I asked the gents if they really thought their music didn’t matter much. “Not really,” said vocalist, Paul. “I think the healthiest thing to think is that we’re four guys playing music we hope people like. It’s all about mystery.” “Yeah,” added Dan, “Everything’s ambiguous.”

It’s easy though for listeners to pick up on a sort of ‘positive insignificance’ that resonates between the four. “Music humbles,” noted Dan, and all four guys agreed that (while they can bicker like anyone else), onstage, they’ve ‘got each others’ back.’ In a sense, said Dan, who turned out to be quite the eloquently spoken philosopher, “We’re trying to confidently present humility.”

The best thing about Mook is that its members are your everyday, nonchalant, normal guys. Gus said he “lives with his parents, is single, works out, and enjoys light cooking.” And he quite enjoyed telling me about his most recent accomplishment, a BM, a Bachelor’s of Music that is. Dan’s been a classically trained pianist almost his entire life, and besides translating classical piano to rock keyboard, he teaches little kids how to play. All four traveled their first east coast tour in a tiny red minivan that barely contained their instruments, their clothes, and their bodies. Watching them unload the car looked like watching four kids break through rock; their effort in strategically packing up for the next destination played out like a game of musical Tetris.

And all along, I marveled at how great it is to see a band that’s just as creative, just as enthusiastic, just as entertaining, and just as together off stage as they are on.

“We share credit for everything,” said Rob, “But we’re not all hippy about it.” “We’re definitely not a Gandhi-band,” added Dan.

And that, I suppose, says it all.

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