Marquette Music Scene

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  • A Record, A Memory, A Farewell

    Mike Walker’s Journey from Bogue to Closure

    Bear/Marquette Music Scene

    I had the privilege of meeting Mike Walker not long after he moved back to the U.P. — some years ago. We’ll go with that, because I honestly don’t remember exactly what year it was at the Upfront & Company, and that place has been closed for almost 13 years now. What I do remember is meeting this cat who clearly knew a thing or two about heavy bands. After a short conversation outside, Mike looked at me and said, “We need to be friends.” And we have been ever since.

    Sure, the Upfront is long gone, but some memories are still sharp. We did some cool things before the club was abruptly — and stupidly — taken away from us.

    Of course, I’m not just Mike’s friend. I’ve been a fan of just about everything I’ve seen him do musically. So when I heard he was bringing a 20+ year-old demo back to life, I couldn’t have been more excited. The release got delayed — unfortunately for him, but fortunately for us — into a time when we’re both active again. I had the absolute privilege of sitting down with my friend this week to talk about the release and about an era where I can only fill in the blanks with stories from the people who lived it.

    Origins of Bogue

    Bear: So you weren’t with the band from day one. How did it start, and how did you end up joining?

    Mike Walker: Matt and Danny formed the band in late ’99. I was working at the Gold Dollar — tiny rock club in Detroit. They played their first show there. I knew Dan from P.W. Long’s Reelfoot and stuff like that. When they played as a two-piece, I immediately knew: I need to be in that band. They needed it, and I needed it. We spoke the same musical language.

    We found out we lived next door to each other. One day I was taking out the trash, he said hey, we ended up at the bar, then two hours later, we were in the practice room. Just like that.

    Bear: Do you think you changed the sound?

    Mike Walker: Yeah, I’d say so. Dan and I had that Keith Richards/Brian Jones “ancient art of basket weaving” thing. Two guitars working together. It just gave things more beef, more thickness.

    Bear: You were in Gravatar before Bogue. Very different sound. Did you carry anything over?

    Mike Walker: I don’t write music thinking, “Today I make this style.” In Gravatar, we loved free jazz and the Melvins — and it shows. I still love both. With Danny, we naturally leaned more toward Booker T. and the MGs meets Jesus Lizard. No conscious style shift — just different chemistry.

    I played the same guitar, amp, and pedals in both bands. Just different results.

    The Detroit Scene

    Bear: What was the Detroit scene like at that point?

    Mike Walker: Huge city, huge music town. Even with millions of people, you end up seeing the same 150 folks at shows. There were overlapping circles — garage rock, noise, punk, metal — all at the same bars. Gold Dollar wasn’t just garage or noise, it was everything.

    When people talk about that era now, they name White Stripes, Electric Six, Von Bondies, Dirtbombs. We played with all of them. The Henchmen, Rocket 455 — everybody was influencing everybody. No one was copying, but we all had the same Kinks records and Zeppelin albums. Same roots, different flowers.

    Bear: There was definitely a kind of abrasiveness to Bogue’s sound that set you apart from other Detroit acts of the time — You all had the same Kinks records, but it seems that you wore the more obscure deeper experimentation of those bands on your sleeve in comparison to bands that are now looked at, maybe, as more radio friendly from Detroit in that era. What’s your take on that?

    Mike Walker: True. Nobody thought they’d get rich doing this. If you wanted that, you left Detroit. It wasn’t until Jack and Meg [White] were on Conan that anyone thought, “Maybe this could work.”

    Bear: What was a Bogue show like?

    Mike Walker: Sweaty. Fast-paced. No rambling between songs. Just run it and keep people moving.

    Bear: The crowd?

    Mike Walker: Good vibes. No mosh pits. At a friend’s wedding on Belle Isle, someone from the Yacht Club said it looked like an Austin Powers-themed event — not because of any actual costume theme, just the wild mix of vintage clothes and garage rock flair people showed up in. That was our scene. Total Nuggets-comp energy.

    Recording the Album

    Bear: The record was done at Ghetto Recorders, right? What were the sessions like? Chaotic? Focused?

    Mike Walker: Yeah, Jim Diamond’s place. Old chicken processing plant behind the Fisher Theatre. Cinder block building. Jim knew what he was doing. He had some leftover tape and a day so he said, “Let’s make a demo.”

    We were tight as hell, practiced constantly. Tracked 14 songs, mixed vocals — all in a day. We thought it was just a demo to shop to labels.

    Bear: So chaotic focus?

    Mike Walker: Exactly. Lots of cocaine and alcohol. But we knew how to operate.

    Loss & Perspective

    Bear: Sadly, working in and around music death is just a part of it. Dan and Matt are both gone. How did that shape how you look back?

    Mike Walker: I’ve lost a lot of people. Dan’s death — suicide — hit me, but I don’t think I processed it until years later. Matt died a couple years after that. Heart attack behind his drums.

    I buried it. Buried myself. More booze, more coke. When I got sober a few years ago, my uncle randomly found the Bogue demo. I hadn’t heard it in 15 years. I cried.

    Those guys were my best friends. No one else on Earth really shares that history with me.

    I thought: maybe someone out there remembers and cares. I reached out to friends in Electric Six, Rocket 455, others — they all said, “Let’s get it out.”

    So yeah, this release? It’s closure. I need it out in the world to move forward.

    Chaputa! Records and the Vinyl Release

    Bear: The original vinyl plans fell apart. How did Chaputa get involved?

    Mike Walker: First label screwed me. Lied. Lawyered up. Picked up the pieces with help from friends. I reached out to every label I could remember — then found Chaputa in Portugal.

    I emailed the demo. Escar, who runs it, responded within an hour: “Let’s do this.” It was 4 a.m. over there.

    He’s been amazing. Transparent, honest, helped with U.S. distro. Their catalog is full of weird fuzz bands, Scandinavian stuff, and all with beautiful packaging. Total care and craftsmanship.

    Vinyl, Streaming, and Distribution

    Bear: Is it a remaster or something else?

    Mike Walker: Just a straight remaster. Jim pulled the tapes. No overdubs, no touch-ups. Just cleaned it up. When he sent it back, I could hear things I hadn’t noticed before. Mastering is black magic.

    Bear: Is that the end of the musical story?

    Mike Walker: Yep. Maybe some live tapes out there, but I don’t have them. That’s it.

    Bear: Where can people get it?

    Mike Walker: Bandcamp U.S. distro is Get Hip Recordings. Chaputa Records. Locally: The Emporium, Jim’s Music, Yooptone Music and this weekend at the Ore Dock [Brewing Company]. Geoff & Jon’s Record Show all weekend long — they’ll have copies.

    Bear: Appreciate your time, man.

    Mike Walker: Absolutely. Thanks for digging into this with me.

  • Strong Drinks, Heavy Hearts & Queer Country: The Bootstrap Boys Hit Marquette

    As Marquette rolls into Pride Month, it’s only fitting that The Bootstrap Boys are rolling into town with their outlaw brand of Queer Country grit and soul. Kicking off June with a heavy dose of heart, harmony, and honky-tonk, the band brings their Heavy Hearts Honky-Tonk Tour to the Ore Dock Brewing Company just as the country starts flying its rainbow flags.

    Bear caught up with them for a quick e-mail Q&A ahead of the show to talk grief, grit, road life, and the stories behind the songs:

    Bear: The Heavy Hearts Honky-Tonk Tour — that name hits with some weight. I know you lost someone close last year… has the tour been a way of carrying that memory forward?

    Jake Stilton: We have been no strangers to grief and great loss in this band, but this was one of our own founding members, and it hit real hard. We go on because there is no other option that honors his memory or the years of hard work and dedication that we, as individuals and a group, have poured into this project. Yes, it is with very heavy hearts, but we do go on.

    Bear: You’ve always blended tradition with grit — where would you place The Bootstrap Boys on the country music map? Closer to Cash, or just way out in the woods on your own?

    Jake: Out in the woods on our own is how it feels, but I honestly don’t know if that sentiment translates to the gen pop or not. Johnny Cash is definitely still spinnin’ on the record player.

    Bear: Songs like Poverty Line and ’57 Chevy paint vivid pictures. Can you share the story or inspiration behind one of those — or a newer one?

    Jake: ’57 Chevy tells the story of my father buying a car from a guy — before he shipped off to Vietnam — that didn’t think he would be returning. He bought it for $10 and then took it out in a field and rolled it, just for kicks. That’s the story as I remembered it when I wrote the song, anyhow.

    Poverty Line is semi-autobiographical and the first song I wrote for this project, back somewhere in a blurry 2012–14 range of time.

    Bear: You’ve hit a lot of rural spots across Michigan. How does playing in places like Marquette or Grayling compare to more metro crowds in other states?

    Jake. We find the weirdos wherever we go. It’s like some invisible bat signal or something goes up, and the people that are tuned into that frequency just show up. It’s like, “Oh, you don’t fit in? Come say hi!” Or, “Oh, your friend group thinks you’re strange? Well, we think they’re strange! Get over here!”

    The main difference is more about the time you get to spend with a smaller town’s more intimate crowd, versus sometimes being rushed with a larger metro crowd at a venue that’s ready for the next act as soon as you’re finished.

    Bear: Touring can be both exciting and exhausting. How do you keep the energy up and the camaraderie strong on the road — or do you just fight it out in the van and hug it out later?

    Jake: We have become adept at blowing off a little steam and then getting over it immediately. At this juncture, we mostly know what buttons not to push. I love a good view when traveling, and the drummer loves a good nap. Lil Mama likes to curate songs, and the bass player likes to game with headphones on. We give each other as much space as five adults rambling around in a 30-year-old RV can give each other, I would think. We also have a healthy inside joke catalog to draw from, and humor helps everything.

    Bear: For someone hearing you for the first time at Ore Dock, what’s the one song they have to catch — and what does it say about The Bootstrap Boys?

    Jake: Apropos to the tour name, Strong Drinks for Heavy Hearts is a song that’s resonating a lot with me right now. I suppose that’s saying we like to drown our sorrows. Inasmuch — come out and cheers us! Don’t make us drink alone. We’ll do it, but we’d prefer to cheers y’all back.