As the vocalist in a politically charged rock band, one might assume that Dominic Miranda would be eager to put in his two cents as it relates to candidacy of Donald Trump. But that’s not really the case. “I’ve tried to stay away from criticizing Trump,” Miranda says. “It’s too easy and everybody else is doing it.”
But even if he isn’t addressing the GOP’s clownishly demagogic nominee directly, Miranda says it’s hard to get away from what he represents. Ever since he descended his penthouse apartment high above Manhattan to bash Mexican immigrants and announce his candidacy, Miranda has seen Trump’s vitriol and regressive views spread like wildfire.
“I always knew it was there,” he says of the insidious racism that has long simmered just beneath the surface of polite public discourse in this country. “But now that you have Donald Trump as the figurehead, you have giant crowds applauding these bigoted statements. I feel we are at a weird time where people feel it’s OK again—they feel vindicated.”
Miranda recalls a recent Facebook exchange he had with an acquaintance. After suggesting that states should pull the Confederate flag from displays in government buildings, Miranda was surprised by the overt nationalist sentiment thrown back in his face.
“I’ve dealt with more racism, especially in the last year and half, than I have in a while,” the singer says. “In my 30 years of life, I’ve never seen anything like this. I think people are more comfortable being racist—especially against Mexican-Americans.”
The San Jose punk outfit is preparing to release a pair of EPs. The first, No Body, is slated to drop in November or early December. The second, No Death, will follow sometime next year. Together, they will represent a full-length No Body. Miranda says No Death was inspired by the ending of Halloween—in which Michael Myers is shot and falls from a balcony, but his body is never recovered. The title also has political implications, Miranda says. “I liken that to catching Osama Bin laden and throwing him out to sea.”
“This EP is focusing on what it means to be not Caucasian—not white—in America,” Miranda says, noting that people often assume he is a first-generation immigrant from Mexico. But Miranda is half-Irish, and his family has been living in California since WW I.
The forthcoming albums were self-produced and engineered by the band’s new drummer, Damien Wendel, who joined Rex Goliath after the departure of the group’s previous percussionist, Anders Ericsson.
According to Miranda, Wendel comes to the band with a heavier but more detail-oriented approach than Ericsson’s. “He has a good concept of early hardcore and punk,” Miranda says. “He has good songwriting ideas.”
Two rough demos from the forthcoming No Body EP—“American Dream” and “Dome Son”—certainly hint at tighter, more melodic arrangements.
While Rex Goliath’s debut full-length, No Magic, featured the feral intensity of another Latin punk band—Titus Andronicus—the San Jose band showed far less of the latter’s melodic subtlety. If these new tracks are any indication, Rex Goliath are working to embrace more harmony to balance out the driving dissonance.
While Miranda still delivers most of his lyrics in a raspy scream—cloaked in a thick coat of early-Strokes vocal overdrive—he shows a willingness to sing at the end of “American Dream,” while “Dome Son” features a brief but energetic major key guitar solo, replete with soaring unison bends recalling J. Mascis and Jimmy Page.
Rex Goliath will celebrate the release of No Body and perform much of their new material at The Ritz on Friday. Part of the recurring Scene! series—organized by Cola frontman Cliff Rawson—the show will also feature Containher, Mothers Worry and Silent Pictures. Attendees in costume get in for $5.
Rex Goliath
Oct 28, 8pm, $5-$10
The Ritz, San Jose
