There’s no mistaking Mike Scheidt for anything other than a metal musician among the clean-cut college kids and happily chatting families at the Glenwood Café in Eugene, Ore. The former frontman for now legendary doom metal band YOB, and current guitarist/vocalist for his new band, Middian, strolls into the place wearing a black short sleeved Carhartt vest covering a T-shirt sporting the illegible logo of an unknown metal act. Equally black tribal earrings dangle from each of his ears. His half inch long buzz cut barely covers his scalp; a stark contrast to the shoulder blade length hair he wore in YOB’s heyday, and the round, thin glasses he had perched on his nose back then have been replaced with a stylish black thick-rimmed number. His arms are covered in tattoos down to his elbows and with each step of his pointed leather cowboy boots he exudes a calming humbleness that belies the fact that the guy practically put Eugene on the map for fans of heavy music.
While sipping a tall latte with his bagel and cream cheese, he explains how he became enamored with music in his teens and how that love inspired him to eventually pick up his first instrument, the guitar, and get involved with the art he was so passionate about. As he delicately spreads the eatery’s house jam on his toasted breakfast of choice, Scheidt volunteers that “it wasn’t so much any one band” that got him started on his path to heaviness but “an environment; everything from metal, to punk and good old rock and roll.”
As for traditional lessons to learn his instrument, Scheidt says, “I took them, but I wasn’t a very good student. I would come back the next week and already have a bastardized version of what they had taught me.” He did, however, warm up to his lessons with Bill Harkleroad, guitarist and flautist on Captain Beefheart’s seminal 1969 LP, Trout Mask Replica (on which he was credited as Zoot Horn Rollo).
His first band was a crossover thrash band called Chemikill with Scheidt playing bass while he honed his guitar skills on the side. “Our guitarist was mostly a hardcore kid, and I was getting into death metal at the time when it finally hit Oregon,” Scheidt offers. “But I kept trying to get him into more metal and he finally got it. After Chemikill broke up he formed a death metal band and he started jamming Morbid Angel covers. That’s some tough stuff to play, too,” he says with a chuckle.
Scheidt played in a few other bands in the Eugene scene on and off until 1996, when he formed YOB as a one man doom project. It wasn’t until 1999 that he had a (semi)solidified lineup in bassist Lowell Iles and drummer Greg Ocon, and after a few rehearsals, the newly minted trio entered Dogwood Studios in Eugene to record their first demo. By 2000, the tape had made it to stonerrock.com, which promptly put YOB at the center of its radar. Ocon left the band and was temporarily replaced by Gabe Morley, who recorded YOB’s full length debut, Elaborations of Carbon, with Scheidt and Iles.
After yet another personnel change, with Isamu Sato now playing bass and Travis Foster on drums, the band dropped their sophomore effort, Catharsis. The LP not only garnered critical acclaim, but it also caught the eye of several label executives, the biggest of which being Brian Slagel, CEO of the legendary, now quarter-century-old Metal Blade Records. For a quick rundown of just how important Metal Blade has been in metal’s history, Slagel not only signed current institutions such as Slayer and Cannibal Corpse when they were just budding acts, but he was also the one who gave a young drummer known as Lars Ulrich a break back in ’82. Ulrich recruited guitarists James Hetfield and Dave Mustaine, and the band would soon record their fist song under the name Metallica. Given the label’s reputation, Scheidt was “amazed” that Slagel contacted him, as he was looking to sign to smaller, more obscure label. “I couldn’t resist, though,” he says. “When Metal Blade is interested in you, you don’t turn that down!” he offers emphatically, adding, “We were also kind of disappointed with Abstractsounds’ distribution of Catharsis.”
Metal Blade released The Illusion of Motion in 2004 and, with what would prove to be a solid lineup, YOB soon embarked on their first big national tour. The most memorable show for Scheidt on this outing was at a venue in New York City called The Pyramid Club. The place had two floors; a ground floor, where “some hip hop show was going on,” and a basement where YOB and numerous other bands in the doom metal scene were gathered to play a show. The other domestic heavy acts in attendance were Dove, Solace, and Brooklyn doomsters Unearthly Trance. YOB was about to take the stage and Scheidt (without the luxury of a guitar tech) was hauling one of his massive guitar cabinets through the crowd. “I ran into a very large, very drunk New Yorker who almost swung at me right then and there,” he says. Thankfully, Scheidt talked the man down, but, he offers, “I was pretty frightened at that moment, knowing I was so far away from home and was kind of out of my element on a completely different coast. When we got back to Eugene from that tour, I decided I needed to learn some form of self-defense.”
Scheidt heard about the Junction City martial arts studio, Complete Combat Systems, and the primary form of self-defense taught at the center, Krav Maga, from a tattoo artist in Eugene. In late 2004, he entered training at the facility and in the spring of 2005, Scheidt began to pursue an instructorship in Krav Maga. He then went through the first two phases of the three phase sequence to become a full-time instructor, and is preparing to attend the last phase in Maryland in July. “It’s really intense,” he says. “They break you down and then completely build you back up. It doesn’t pay the bills by a long shot, but it will help.”
To supplement his income, Scheidt has worked at various stores around Eugene, including McKenzie River Music and CD World. He also plans to start work at the Willamette location of the Smith Family Bookstore sometime this year. “They’re expanding and they need tons of database stuff done, and I need work, so I figure I can help out with that and make some money,” he says. “It’s hard, because the job market is tough in Eugene, but I could never become a huge touring musician like so many of those guys out there,” laments Scheidt. “When YOB started getting bigger, we could have gone on longer tours and brought in more cash. But then, how would I justify that to my kids when I came home after five months of touring? I mean, I could bring in plenty of money in that time, but I’d feel awful for missing out on so much of their lives.” Instead, Scheidt prefers to “go on short tours, and not stay so far away from home.”
The longer tours grew even longer after anticipation built for what would become YOB’s last album, The Unreal Never Lived. “We just weren’t that kind of band, and we couldn’t meet those demands,” says Scheidt. Sato and Foster left the band in July of 2005, a month before The Unreal Never Lived was released. On January 10, 2006, Scheidt announced that YOB was officially broken up, but that he had started work on a new project. Scheidt drafted bassist Will Landsay and drummer Scott Headrick for what would come to be known as Middian. The trio played their first official show opening for Isis at the WOW Hall that April under the name Age. “That show and the dozen or so after it were premature,” offers Scheidt. “We had only played together a few times and we just wanted to get out there and have some fun. It became our fast track to maturity, though.”
The band signed with YOB’s old label, Metal Blade, and quickly recorded their 2007 debut, Age Eternal. “We did it over a three day weekend, because we already had everything composed,” says Scheidt. After Age Eternal’s spring release, Middian embarked on few small tours, but never toured Europe, despite a growing demand for a visit. “Metal Blade just didn’t give us the press we needed over there, but we know people wanted us to play,” offers Mike. “We might even have been more popular in Europe than we were in America. For every one interview we would have in America, we would do five in Europe.”
Their growing popularity caught the eye of a little known band from Milwaukee, Wisconsin by the name of Midian (with one “d”). In October of 2007, Scheidt received a cease and desist demand from Midian, resulting in Middian being dropped from Metal Blade and, initially, being forced to change their name and stop the sale of Age Eternal. Scheidt decided to comply with the demands because he and the band hardly had any money to fight the band. Midian of Milwaukee pressed on, however, and demanded large sums of money from Scheidt and Co., who, after deciding they had nothing left to lose, hired an able attorney out of Chicago to help them fight the case in court. To help the trio pay for the costs of contesting Midian, Scheidt set up the Middian Defense Fund and asked fans of the band for donations.
Though technically Middian’s usage with Midian of Milwaukee’s non-usage of the name granted Middian the full rights to the name, Midian would not back down. But things do seem to be looking up for Scheidt and his band. “We got delineation from the State of Oregon to still play shows and use our name while the trials are set,” he says. “And the attorney we got to fight the case says he can not only do it at a reasonable price, but that we are pretty much guaranteed to win because Midian really have no rights to their name anymore.”
As for their current status as an unsigned band, Scheidt offers, “It was a blessing and a curse when we were dropped from Metal Blade. We weren’t pushing the numbers a big label like that needed anyway, and it was a ton of pressure to be there among those bigger acts. We don’t owe them anything because they dropped us, so we’re financially sound from that, too.” He pauses for a sip of coffee, then continues, “We aren’t really worried about where we’ll end up. We hate politics, and we just want to play with our friends and have fun. Sure, bigger labels can get you places you can’t get to by yourself, but many act like loan sharks in a way. Like, for a fee, they can promote you and release your work, but you kind of sign your life away. A copyright for our music is a lot to give up for $3,000. ”
For the first time in the interview, I chime in and make a suggestion: “What about Rise Above [Records, a label owned by Cathedral frontman Lee Dorrian]?” “Oh yeah,” Scheidt responds, “we’ve thought about that one. We’re good friends with those guys and most of the doom scene in Europe.” As The Four Tops’ Motown hit “Sugar Pied Honeybunch” plays over the ceiling speakers in the Glenwood, Scheidt proceeds to rattle off a list of heavy bands foreign and domestic, each influential in their own right. His reverence for and familiarity with doom acts like Electric Wizard, The Hidden Hand and Orange Goblin mirrors most American males’ attitudes towards their favorite sports teams.
However, Scheidt also differs himself from many of the acts he’s played with over the years. “It seems that so many bands today think they have to act like jerks to seem like rock stars, but we’ve never wanted to be like that,” he says. “But then you have guys like Tool, who you would think would be total rock stars, but they don’t act like it at all. At one of our first shows in L.A., we played in a basement somewhere for like 30 people, and [Tool drummer] Danny Carey was in the crowd. I was so surprised when I saw him, and we talked for a bit. I guess the guys in Tool were huge fans of YOB. We hung out with him and he put us up in his mansion the couple times we played down in L.A., so there are still guys out there like him.”
A week and a half after the interview, I’m in Carey’s position, standing in the WOW Hall, waiting for Scheidt and Co. to take the stage for my first Middian live experience. About ten minutes after the guys are supposed to go on, I am informed that they were forced to cancel because Scheidt pinched a nerve in his back practicing Krav Maga. Though I am disappointed at the cancellation, I quickly realize this reflects exactly what Scheidt meant with his rejection of the rock star attitude. So many bigger musicians don’t have day jobs because they make enough money playing music and touring, but Scheidt and his bandmates still work everyday when they’re not playing music, and for Scheidt, this means running the risk of injury. Like he does with his music, Scheidt puts everything he has into his training, working as hard as he can to complete the third phase and become an official instructor at Complete Combat Systems. And if the determination he has committed to his music is any indication, he’ll make it.
Mike Scheidt chases his passions, and nothing – from labels demanding more sales, to greedy Milwaukeean bands and strained backs – will get in his way.
