Perhaps the most unflatteringperception about modern pagans is that they’re fundamentally humorless,explains Molly Snyder Edler, the singer and bassist for a group that can safelybe called Milwaukee’sonly pagan pop-punk band, Cackle.
“Paganism is always depicted assomething that is so heavy and goth that people think you have to wear capesand walk around with a walking stick to practice it, but for us it’s not likethat,” Edler says. “For us, it’s none of the stereotypes; it’s something that’slight and fun. We study everything from tarot cards to mythology, but we alsoappreciate the kitschy aspects of the occult, like Pez dispensers shaped likewitches.
“There’s a spiritual element to it, butit’s much lighter than paganism and Wicca is usually portrayed,” Edlercontinues. “We’re taking the basic messages of being kind to nature andappreciating astrology and numerology, and enjoying that stuff as somethingthat can be really fun and interesting, because we feel this stuff is reallycool when it’s not misunderstood or over-stereotyped. We wanted to present anew-school face of paganism.”
On songs like “Voodoo Dolly” and “NancyReagan Was a Pagan,” Cackle employs humor to defuse the stigma around paganism.The latter track casts the former first lady, an astrology enthusiast, as anunlikely softer face of paganism, then ends with an Adam Sandler, “HanukkahSong”-styled shout-out to other “pagans” like Charles Dickens and Carl Sagan.
Cackle began as something of a dreamfor Edler and her friend and coven-mate Renee Bebeau.
“We had an ongoing joke that we weregoing to start a band when we were 50, and were going to play our 50th birthdayparty and surprise all our friends, but then when we were in our late 30s westarted getting more serious about it,” Edler says.
With guitarist Grant Gunn, they beganto practice in Bebeau’s cold Riverwest basement, “with our Schlitz beer, likewe were 19 years old,” Edler recalls. Innumerable crude attempts at coveringThe Cure’s “Boys Don’t Cry” later, the group refined themselves until theybegan playing private parties. They played their first public show on NewYear’s Eve at Art Bar.%uFFFD
Unlike actual 19-year-old musicians,the group doesn’t have the luxury of abundant free time. They have families andcareers to balanceEdler, for instance, is a writer for OnMilwaukee.combutthey’re serious about the band, even if they aren’t able to gig every weekend.
“I wanted to be a rock star since theearly days of MTV, so being in the band for the past year has been, next to mykids, the high pointof my life,” Edler says. “There’s a hundred reasons why we shouldn’t do this,and yet we’re doing this anyway. It’s just really fun and this perfectcombination of our personal interests: music, writing, performing, interactingin the community and staying fresh and vivacious and saying ‘fuck you’ to 40,or not even caring about 40. It’s not an age thing; we’re just having a blast.”
UncleLarry and Cackle share a 9 p.m. bill at Art Baron Saturday, March 20, celebrating the venue’s sixth anniversary.
