The monstrous dueling guitar riffs, ’80s TV theme song influence and a free-flowing spirit add up to a band that could only be Lord Master

“We were late,” started Matt Gannon. The laughter from the rest of the band quieted so Lord Master’s vocalist could tell the story of one of their favorite moments. “The race was still going on so they had people trying to coordinate the cars to go around the bicycles. We finally got there in the nick of time and set up quick and started playing to these exhausted, really fit guys.”

The laughter started again. “They were worn out,” chimed in Ben Cosloy, guitarist. “And here’s this weird prog rock band,” said Tristan Trotter, drummer.

“I don’t know what the hell they thought of that,” said Gannon wistfully. “But we played good,” said Trotter.

That memory — of a gig played at the conclusion of a bike race at Anthony Lakes — just about sums up the Lord Master experience: surreal, a little improvised and brimming with talent. The group’s four members were laid back around a dining room table in Cosloy and Trotter’s Northeast Portland home. The cozy house is where the couple’s kids grew up listening to the band practice in the basement — a space littered with hints of Lord Master’s ethos: Star Wars paintings, bowling pins and Les Paul Goldtop guitars.

The band, too, had grown up around there. Long-time friends all born in 1973, it was these four that started Lord Master 13 years ago, and it’s been these four since. “You don’t get to choose your real family. We chose each other and it just happened. It’s a good time, all the time,” said bassist Jimmy Barber. He was reclined in the corner of the room, sipping on an early afternoon Buoy Red Ale. “It’s just fun — we like what each other plays.”

That free-flowing spirit manifests itself in Lord Master’s sound. Highlighted by three-part harmonies, genre-interplay and monstrous dueling guitar riffs, the band — progressive, funny, strange — sounds like it was born someplace between Tenacious D and Talking Heads. But drawing comparisons is probably futile at this point, as they’ve been likened to everyone from ABBA to Iron Maiden to Captain Kangaroo.

“It’s probably kind of a cop-out to say this but our sound is really just, Lord Master,” said Trotter, shrugging. “I think there was a time when we were worried that was going to be an issue for us as a band. We don’t really have a sound. If you like the first two songs, you might not like the third at all. But I think at some point, we all said fuck it. That’s what makes us who we are. You can’t totally pin it down. I think that that’s only been good for us as a band.” 

Being the musical brainchild of a teacher, a carpenter, a graphic designer and a cook, the result was destined to be a little weird. Lord Master has two albums in the books, Crap City (2013) and Jello Day (2017), but far more material for live sets. 

The name Lord Master was conceived as a prank at a baby shower. “I thought it was kind of the perfect name for a new baby,” said Trotter. “They went with Charlie.” That naming process was prophetic for the band’s unique songwriting technique. Gannon and Barber describe themselves as the meat and potatoes of the process. They build a foundation, with Gannon taking point and Barber, the “hit-writing machine,” grounding him in reality. Trotter and Cosloy do the tweaking. But everyone throws in on the initial spitballing.

“We’ll have a bullshit session after a show or downstairs cracking jokes and somebody will say something funny and somebody else will say, ‘That’s our next song!’ And often enough it is our next song,” said Barber. That’s where Gannon shines, they all noted. The wiry-haired vocalist/guitarist can run off with a joke-turned-song-title — “Penultimate Frisbee,” “Vegan Puppet Show” — and come back later with the framework of a tune.

“We can come up with some dumbass idea and be like ‘Go!’ and he’ll come back in two weeks with this ridiculous song,” said Cosloy from beneath his Red Sox cap. “He’s like a fountain,” Barber said.

“Most people labor over a song and maybe slap a name on it at the end. Our band kinda does it opposite,” said Gannon. The result isn’t always a success, but it usually at least churns up a nugget that the rest of the group can riff on and develop. “Usually that’s how it goes: I try to do this and it ends up like that and then when it goes through the filter of the band it becomes even something else.”

Themes are varied, but Barber said they stick to the same basic building blocks of life: “Food, love, sex, violence, supernatural phenomenon.” 

Politics? No. 1980s TV? Hell yes. 

“I think when we embraced our passionate love of ’80s TV theme music — that spoke to me,” said Trotter. “We all grew up watching the same action TV shows: Magnum PI, Simon & Simon, Happy Days. I think there’s something about that era of music and songwriting that informs us all individually and as a band.”

“They pack a lot of stuff into a small amount of space and that’s kinda what we do with all our songs,” Gannon added. “We don’t just ride one idea, there’s usually like five or more ideas and we try to just cram it all in.”

Their process doesn’t always result in the most accessible music to the mainstream. Figuring out how to maintain a unique and honest sound while also building a following has been the challenge since day one.

“I’d like to try to write something that might appeal to somebody. It’s not like we’re completely trying to alienate people. We try to ride the line between familiar and unfamiliar,” said Gannon. “Using conventional methods and presenting unconventional subject matter.”

“We’re not smart enough to sell out. We couldn’t do it if we wanted,” laughed Cosloy. “There’s no master strategy. We’re not working out a plan to get to the next level. Nobody in this band knows how to do any of that stuff.”

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That said, it isn’t like Lord Master hasn’t picked up a bit of a cult following in their years. They frequent the same North Portland haunts — about once a month, you’ll find their wild sound drifting out of Slim’s, Kenton Club or similar neighborhood institutions.

“We play a lot of places that tend to have walk-ins and there’s always somebody there that will kind of get it. The other people, they’re not so sure,” said Gannon. “There is always somebody in the room who is gonna be digging on it. But it’s hard to collectively get those people all in one room.”

“I feel like one of those people per show is victory,” said Trotter, matter-of-factly. The band seemed in agreement on this, content to reach a few ears at a time.

“That really is the best feeling though. Right when you get done playing and you get off stage and go outside for a breath of fresh air and some guy comes up and says, ‘That was really great,’” said Barber.

Lord Master does hope to cast a wider net going forward. The band said they’re looking to travel more often for shows, citing a brief weekend tour up to Washington in June. They’re also looking to translate some of their backlog of live-exclusive tunes to single releases. They noted a great experience recording Jello Day with John Neff (Journey, David Lynch) but thought it might do them some good to record these new tracks at home.

“I think we just have so many ideas, and we want to have a certain autonomy to execute those ideas and hear how they sound. Sometimes it’s really hard to know what you sound like when you’re in the midst of playing it,” said Gannon.

They’re also working on putting together a music video and a stronger online presence. But all this takes time and money.

“A lot of bands have their someone in the band who is familiar with videography or they have a buddy who has a camera who will do the thing, or they are just younger and have a lot more time on their hands and don’t have a whole other life they need to manage,” said Trotter.

The quartet also wonders if these other endeavours might put them in a catch-22, where pushing the band forward means losing some of what makes it all fun. Barber said if that was the case, they’d just go back to what they know best.

“We’d probably stop trying if it did make it less fun,” he said. “It’s a matter of picking and choosing, because there isn’t a lot of time — we all have jobs. We gotta make the most of what we choose to do.”

Although that sets up a bit of an uncertain future for Lord Master, rigidity and planning has never really been their thing anyway. “I have a hard time telling people what it is we do,” Gannon had noted early in the day. Chemistry and an admirable self-indulgence have gotten them this far.

“Going back to why we’re still together: nobody gets insulted by suggestions for parts, nobody has their feelings hurt, we have a very good working relationship. And we assume no one is gonna like us. The stakes are so low,” said Cosloy.

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“It’s been a steady forward-moving machine that has never gotten bored, kept evolving, the songs have gotten more and more challenging,” Trotter added.

Aside from consistent improvement, there isn’t much of a master plan here. There’s a box of unsold records and shirts in the basement, there’s a litany of unrecorded tunes in their live setlist, and another half dozen new song ideas appeared in the span of an afternoon. 

Gannon said it might be time to buckle down. “We’re getting older and I think we’re realizing, ‘Let’s do this now while we still have —’” 

“All our teeth!” clipped Trotter, as the band fell back into laughter.

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