The Jesus Lizard to make thunderous return to Austin at Levitation festival

While a band’s sound often switches up from song to song, if not over time, some bands have a style that’s undoubtedly their own.

Ever since their inception in Austin in 1987, the Jesus Lizard has possessed a singular, unmistakable rumble of pummeling, shuddering bassline marching in lockstep with booming, precision-targeted drums. Sharp angular guitar pierces the rhythm.

And then there’s that voice, sometimes soaring off an unsettling low in the mix – sometimes compared to a preacher speaking in tongues – tying it all together in a sonic roar. That’s the voice of performer David Yow, the Jesus Lizard frontman whose decades-long career dovetails with the rise of the modern underground music scene and its explosion in the 1990s and again here in 2024.

After their breakup in 1999 and a sporadic series of reunions, the Jesus Lizard’s back with their first album in 26 years, titled “Rack.” They’re also kicking off a tour with a Halloween date in Dallas and a stop at the Levitation festival in Austin on Nov. 1.

Yow joined the Standard to talk about his career and what led to the band’s reunion. Listen to the interview above or read the transcript below.

This transcript has been edited lightly for clarity:

Texas Standard: What’s it like performing again in a place that played such a big role in the band’s history?

David Yow: Well, we’ve done seven shows so far. And yeah, the Chicago show blew my mind because we had – I’m not sure exactly how many people – but I think it was like [3.500] or 4,000 people. And it kind of freaked me out.

A lot of people consider you guys really, really hugely influential, even though I don’t think you achieved the kind of success that some of the Seattle bands did. But you all were never really that Seattle thing. I think that some critics tried to sort of lump you in, but I always hear in your sound more of a kind of Zeppelin thing going on. Am I wrong?

No, you’re not wrong. It’s your opinion. How could you possibly be wrong?

I guess what I’m asking is how much Zeppelin did you listen to growing up?

They were my favorite band. That was my first concert. But yeah, the Seattle thing. Can I say dirty words on this show? We did get lumped into that some when Scratch Acid was a band.

You played Scratch Acid before Jesus Lizard?

Yeah. And there was a handful of bands that they lumped us in with and they called it “pig-f—— music.” And I really liked that a lot more than “grunge” or “alternative” or whatever.

What do you remember about that era, and how does it compare with where the industry is today?

Well, that was in Austin in the 80s, and I’ve always felt really, really fortunate to have been involved in sort of the punk rock thing.

And in Austin, Texas, where, you know … New York had their scene and Chicago and Boston and D.C. and L.A. and San Francisco … They all had their scenes and all that kind of stuff. I might be biased because living in Austin, but our thing with the Butthole Surfers and the Big Boys and the Dicks and Sharon Tate’s Baby and Terminal Mind and all those bands, our thing was so much more innovative and imaginative and creative and fun than everybody else’s, and I’m really grateful to Austin for that.

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What inspired putting together a new album after all these years?

That’s a good question. I don’t really know the accurate answer to that.

Like, I think the first reenactment shows we did was in 2009 when the guy who ran All Tomorrow’s Parties asked if we would be willing to go to England and play a show. And they were offering us ridiculous money, and we thought it would be fun. And we tacked on some more shows to it.

And then since then we did a couple other sort of shows around and it was just really fun. And the other guys – David, Mac and Duane – I think they started working on some ideas for songs without really telling me, because they knew that I was going to be the most hesitant of the four of us to want to do anything.

But they sort of got this almost like a pitch. I think they had five or six, maybe seven songs.

They anticipated your objections?

Exactly. But I was really impressed and it sounded good. And so somebody said, “So what do you want to do with this? Want to make a record?” And we’re like, “okay.”

I’m glad we did. I really like this new record. So it worked out well.

Why the resistance? Why did they anticipate that you were going to say “no” in the first place?

Because when we broke up in 1999, we had signed a three-record deal with Capitol. And the record sales that we had with Capitol were no greater than the indie label Touch and Go that we had been on previously.

After we did two records on Capitol, they kind of said, “okay, you can go. You don’t have to make a third record.” And so I immediately called our manager and said, “Great, I quit.” It went from being the finest thing in the world to kind of a job. And I didn’t want to do that.

The other three guys, they’re actual honest-to-God musicians, I think, who have a need for playing music and creating music. I don’t have that. I like creative stuff, and I like to paint and draw and act and all that kind of crap. I don’t need the music the way they do. And so I think that they were aware that maybe I wouldn’t want to do the record.

Yeah, but here’s the thing, though. It seems to me, they needed you. You say you’re not a musician, but in a way, part of it is the way that the voice works with the music to put out this emotional force that’s really kind of … I mean, was that a conscious approach for you? The words sometimes didn’t matter as much as the feeling did, it seems to me.

When I first started singing in a band was with Scratch Acid, where I had been playing bass and we did a little switching around of musicians and I became a singer. I had to work with what I had, and I didn’t have any vocal training.

I was extremely influenced by the Birthday Party and the stuff that Nick Cave was doing back before the The Bad Seeds, David Thomas of Pere Ubu, Lux Interior of the Cramps, and Lee Ving of Fear … Gary Floyd, Gibby Haynes and Nick Cave … I kind of have sort of stole from all of them.

And then I might be fooling myself, but I like to think that through some time, I kind of got to do my own thing.

You know, your live shows are legendary. What are you thinking about when it comes to connecting to the audience in that live setting?

I’ve always felt like when we’re done with the show that I would like for everybody who saw it to be, I don’t know, pick an adjective – dumbstruck, flabbergasted – to be taken by sort of how powerful and/or dangerous and/or forceful …

It’s like, yeah, there’s a physicality there.

For sure. But it’s weird now. I used to, you know, I’d smack one person and kiss the next person and push the next person and hit the next one on the head with the mic and then kiss one and smack them and whatever.

It’s weird. I think my hands are more tired than they used to be.

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