Photo courtesy of Swamp Thing
Swamp Thing
Swamp Thing (2026)
“I’ve got a friend who lives in Milwaukee,” the first words sung at Swamp Thing’s 1987 live recording from CBGB herald the eclectic group’s first visit to NYC. Years later they would be part of the legendary club The Knitting Factory.
The Madison band with Milwaukee ties made a name back when Smart Studios was on the rise and College Radio was a legitimate cultural barometer.
Swamp Thing’s Bob Appel grew up in Bayside and Nicolet High alum Mike Kashou played bass on the first Garbage record and was a member of Paul Cebar & The Milwaukeeans.
The eclectic band, who released the Downhill EP in 2023, reunites for a Madison Memorial Union Terrace on Saturday August 1, 7 p.m.
Appel recently got us up to speed on all things Swamp and offered a fairly deep look at Madison music of decades past.
When Swamp Thing was playing in Madison, I recall the scene being more hard-edged at least for younger bands. You guys seemed locked in with the little-older more bohemian, open-minded listeners—maybe even the folks who go to UW for school and end up staying.
What do you recall about that music scene?
Back when we were starting to develop a following in the ‘80s, Madison had a very vibrant scene. There were all the harder bands like Killdozer [like Swamp Thing, named after a fictional character], Tar Babies, The Appliances—then there was Spooner (whose members formed Fire Town then Garbage).
Let’s not forget Timbuk 3, The R&B Cadets, and Violent Femmes roamed the streets sometimes. Jazz greats Ben Sidran and Steve Tibbetts were mainstays. Richard Davis [jazz legend, Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks, Bruce Springsteen] taught at the university for decades and performed around town. It was fertile ground.
The cool thing is there were so many places to get gigs. So many great places for smaller band like The Swamps: O’Cayz Corral, Merlyn’s, Club de Wash, The Nar Bar, Headliners, Bunky’s, G.S. Vig’s.
|
|
The University was very supportive in regard to the Arts. Some of our best shows were at The Memorial Union where they tolerated some pretty outrageous hijinks. That’s where we are at it again this coming Saturday. I don’t want to leave out the co-ops, the Mifflin Street Festival, the frats and sororities.
Who did you view as contemporaries?
Phil Gnarly and The Tough Guys. Now that band and Swamp Thing were on the same wavelength. That is, we didn’t take ourselves too seriously. We were both punk adjacent bands with elements of performance art, social commentary and, most importantly, tongue in cheek humor.
We were friendly with Sometimes Y, Timbuk 3 (at the time Pat McDonald and The Essentials) to name couple more. It was very funny as the earnest hardcore bands viewed us as too cute and silly. They seemed to take themselves very seriously and outwardly ridiculed us. Now, we are kissing cousins with some of them. Oh youth—at time when kids really mean IT!
Given the talent in Madison and the college/alternative radio boom waiting to happen, how do you view that era in hindsight?
Well, it’s funny. Every generation thinks they may have missed it by a smidge. Obviously, the bands that worked with Butch Vig in the early days of Smart (Swamp Thing included) thought it was the coolest thing that there was this affordable kick-ass place to record with incredibly passionate, kind, patient people—including Steve Marker.
But let’s face it, those guys were cutting their teeth on us. They got better quickly, became sought after by the likes of Nirvana—and Butch became, well, one of the most successful producers in rock history.
At the time, there was the most amazing tight-knit scene surrounding Smart with those hardcore groups. We loved them. Of course, we had to meet their disdain for us with chests pumped way out.
The place that was the epicenter of that community for us was WORT FM. The station supported all things community. It was a fervent supporter of Swamp Thing and all the locals.
It’s funny, the media, whether underground or mainstream, likes to take credit for burgeoning art movements. Certainly, without the support of journalists, DJs and the like, commerce doesn’t come running. But it is the artist communities that dictate the next thing; out of ‘70s punk came hardcore, out of that came grunge, from that came skate punk (or whatever genre name you want to assign bands link Blink).
I am simplifying, but artists do their thing, as a movement develops it gains followers and has the possibility of sticking around for a while.
Madison was a hotbed of art and culture, a college town, a small enough yet big enough thing, a history of social conscience, and open to experimentation. We were part of an extended friend group of performance artist, fine artists, writers, photographers, and actors.
Bottom line, it was so inspiring.
How was Swamp Thing received outside Madison?
Our manager, Michael Dorf (my future partner at The Knitting Factory) was pretty motivated to get us out there.
Of course he solicited our help in the labor department. We sent out hundreds of cassettes and then vinyl to college radio all over North America. Our tours were booked on the basis of that radio play. If we had spins in a town, we booked a gig.
Although some of the routing was not our favorite way to travel; it was predicated on that airplay. We did chart on CMJ which helped build momentum.
We had cities we were able to return because there were fans that shouted the lyrics back at the stage. Then there were gigs that were logistical fillers. We called some of those debacles. But we always gave our all.
Our frontperson, Jonathan Zarov, was a spectacle to behold. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. He climbed the rafters, hopped like a frog, threw candy out to the crowd . . . Jonathan could win over even the most grumpy of crowds with his positive energy for sure.
I was listening back to one of our CBGB shows after weeks of touring. I thought to myself, wow, “even lil’ ol’ Swamp Thing got really f’ing tight by playing all the damn time.”
Our rhythm section, Mike Kashou (bass) and Steve Bear (drums), were rock solid. At that particular CBGB performance, they gave us twenty minutes. So, Steve counted off every song at breakneck speed. We amazingly kept up.
Hear the 1987 show here: https://swampthingmadison.bandcamp.com/album/live-at-cbgb-1987
I first read about The Knitting Factory in the Village Voice. It seemed ballsy to open a club at ground zero, historically for jazz and music on the edge.
How did that idea come about?
My dear childhood friends Louis Spitzer and Michael Dorf wanted to open a café performance space. Mike and I used the back room as an office for both the club and our label, Flaming Pie Records (born out of Swamp Thing not being signed by a major).
While looking for bands to book, besides Swamp Thing, Michael was introduced to Wayne Horvitz who helped with curating a series. Wayne was perfectly positioned to help introduce Michael to all the scenes around New York and beyond as he collaborated with many musicians of different scenes - Zorn, Frisell, Fred Frith, Greg Osby, Bobby Previtte, William Parker, Robin Holcomb, Butch Morris - the list goes on.
Michael, being one of the most motivated people I’ve ever known, took the ball and ran with it. In very fast order, The Knit had shows seven days a week, sometimes matinees as well.
Louis was not particularly interested in the club lifestyle and left after some months. It only made sense for me to join forces with Michael as I had naturally taken of the responsibility of production, recording, and many of the operations of the club.
What made you think it would succeed?
You know, it was a struggle. I was there for about five years. While it was one of the most rewarding experiences of my life getting to work with so many of the old timers I loved (Max Roach, Sun Ra, Andrew Hill, Anthony Braxton) and the downtown scene mentioned above, and so many rock and singer-songwriters on my list of top artist—Jonathan Richman and, Alex Chilton to name a couple—it was hard. Like 70 hours a week hard.
The success came from an unrelenting energy. I sustained it for some years. Michael is still at it with his new endeavors. I may have helped with the way the rooms and recordings sounded and the hummus tasted, but he booked it. Some of the monthly calendars have been archived. It is quite daunting to look at them actually. We did that?
But let’s give the artists their due. Much of the success came from the fact that performers need places to share their shit. What a blessing to be a part of that time.
Has your time as a non-musician working in the music industry colored your view as a musician?
Of course, a musician and writer who doesn’t try to be part of the mainstream thinks about things like how messed up the industry has become and how each era has its industry insiders who think they have helped create the biggest thing of all time.
However, we all know that most movements are passing phases. That we are way beyond a time where something truly outside becomes inside. That’s the business side.
I have been very lucky to have had the opportunity in the biz to work on projects that are inspiring. My experiences at the Knit presented a chance to work with all sorts of what we called “new music” in the center of our country’s fertile art ground.
Then I was given a lot of rope at Windham Hill Jazz and High Street to bring in some folks who that label might never had considered signing—I credit Bob Duskis for that. Then he and Pat Berry brought me along to Six Degrees Records which opened my mind to a whole new universe of music from around the world.
So, I guess, I have always been skeptical of the commerce-driven side of the music business. But always just a kid that plugged in and turned it to 11 in my teenage bedroom in Milwaukee from 1975.
I’m still at it today. It is my lifeline. I am thankful that I was able to make a living in the music business for all those years. And now I am happy to be writing, recording and gigging at this ripe old age.
Have you ever tailored your music to fit what is happening?
Not really. To the degree that I have always kept up with audio technology since childhood, there are tools that influence the sounds and approaches to writing and recording.
And certainly, I get requests from musicians I am recording in my studio which demands adhering to the latest crazes. But I am just an old rock and roller chasing the muse man—tongue firmly placed in cheek!
I’ll use this as an example of my likes. When recording electric guitar, I might go direct and use modelers and plug-ins in the box. I might use external modelers and pre-amps and pedals.
But every time I plug straight into the ‘64 Princeton and turn it way up, get a couple three mics going including one randomly placed in the room, I always think, “Yes, that is the best guitar sound I can get.” I love me some tubes warmed up and amps dimed.
Do you have experiences guiding others in that realm?
Really, not a lot. If any, in the indie rock scene. The mainstream kids know about Taylor. But there is a very cool indie movement happening again.
My favorite right now is Geese. The underground is coming up! Lo-fi, present, in your face is back. Just like Bowie, The Velvets, the new kids’ talent comes from knowing what the most emotive takes are the best, which human mistakes speak and therefore they are left in the track.
