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Sugarcult: Quiet Lives
Posted by Rob Ortenzi on 17-Nov-06 @ 11:51 AM|
SUGARCULT built a reputation on playing hard, looking sharp and partying all night. But even crazy nights can become work, and these days, they'd prefer some punky home companions to while away their time. Story: Trevor Kelley If you had to pick a place to be single, you could probably do a lot worse than Pasadena, California, a quaint, almost suburban town located about half an hour outside of Hollywood. The main drag in Pasadena is lined with bars that unironically blare Nickelback, and on any given night, the sidewalks are crowded with people who are looking for other people to take home. Finding someone to build a life with here--especially if you're a rock star with an admirable collection of leather jackets--should be easy. Actually, it should be more than easy. It should be, as Will Ferrell's character puts it in Wedding Crashers, like fishing with dynamite. Yet Tim Pagnotta, lead singer and songwriter for Sugarcult and owner of many stylish leather wraps, lives alone here. He bought a house about a year ago, at which point his life had entered a period of heavy transition. At the time, Sugarcult were coming down from a rather enviable high: Their second album, 2004's Palm Trees And Power Lines, had produced two major hits ("Memory" and "She's The Blade") and had sold nearly half-a-million copies. They toured the world with Green Day, playing to some of the largest audiences of their career. And then there were the after-show parties, replete with unscrupulous groupies and unopened bottles of Skyy Vodka. At the time, Sugarcult were the band that any male between the ages of 18 and 24 wanted to be in. But by March of 2005, the ideas that existed inside of such a band were becoming more and more divergent. Pagnotta's bandmates scattered in various directions: Guitarist Marko "Marko72" DeSantis and new drummer Kenny Livingston had children. Bassist Airin (a man so shy he doesn't even want people to know his last name) spent time building a home studio with his current housemate, Used singer Bert McCracken. The two even paired up with Street Drum Corps, whose punk-rock take on STOMP scored a minor hit last year with a cover of the John Lennon classic "Happy Xmas (War Is Over)." But for Pagnotta, all he really had was Sugarcult--and, of course, those who wanted to sleep with him because of it. Just before recording Palm Trees, Pagnotta broke it off with his long-term girlfriend ("The girl I thought I was going to marry," he says) and his sex life in the time since has been every bit as self-indulgent and empty as you might think. For proof, one only needs to peruse the lyrics to Sugarcult's new album Lights Out, half of which seem to be about one-night stands. "For Tim, he hit the ground running at 21 or 22, and now all of a sudden, he's pushing 30," DeSantis says. "It's like, 'What happened?' While other [guys] are taking a girl out to an Italian restaurant, he's spent that time going, 'What's up, we're Sugarcult. This song is called 'Stuck In America.'' Though DeSantis is quick to stand up for his bandmate ("He's not a sleazebag," he insists), Pagnotta is someone who seems rather confused by the life that he's created for himself. While he may have once embraced his job as an unaccountable rock star, these days, he's begun wondering how much longer that role can apply to him. As Pagnotta puts it this morning, "I am 29 years old now. Am I going to be single and lonely, or I am going to celebrate this decadent lifestyle?" But before he can answer, there's another question eating at him. "Do you know what time it is?" Pagnotta asks. It's 10:40 a.m. "Shit," he says, suddenly growing panicked. "I have to go to my shrink." For the rest of the story, pick up AP 219 below... |
