Spokane is a town of mystery and wonder. Former home of crooner Bing
Crosby; site of the ecofriendly 1974 World’s Fair; scene of Washington
state representative Richard Curtis’s recent misadventures with that
seedy-looking rent boy, some ladies’ lingerie, and a stethoscope.But
these highlights only scratch the surface. The jewel of the Inland
Northwest is more than a pit stop between Seattle and Missoula. And if
you drop by Baby Bar—a living-room-sized drinking hole where
daredevil Evel Knievel liked to unwind—on the right night, local
DJ and producer James Pants might point you toward some of the other
regional attractions. Heck, were he not so busy promoting his new
Stones Throw album, Welcome, he could serve on the city board
of commerce.
“There is this thrift store, called Drop Your Drawers, run by this
aging hippie, that blows my mind every time,” he starts in. Stuffed
beavers, silk kimonos, empty turtle shells, and battered harmoniums
fight for display space. “It’s all the weirdest stuff, and almost
nothing over $10.” In the nearby Russian neighborhood, old-world toffee
and hard candy is cheap and plentiful. And over in Riverfront Park
stands the majestic garbage-eating goat, a remnant of Expo ’74. “It’s
this big, metal, satanic-looking statue,” Pants explains. “You push a
button, and the goat sucks up your trash.”
Against this curious backdrop of second-hand pelts, exotic sweets,
and inventive waste-management solutions, Pants’s musical aesthetic
makes perfect sense. Throughout its 16 tracks, Welcome celebrates vintage styles and unconventional recycling. Dubbed “fresh
beat,” his grooves incorporate ’80s R&B, electro-boogie, early
hiphop, underground disco, and more. For a dude weaned on his parents’
Whitney Houston LPs (“I remember jamming out to ‘My Name Is Not Susan’
a lot”) and the Footloose soundtrack, Pants has made
significant strides.
The playful punk-funk of “My Girl” sounds like legendary NYC sister
act ESG jamming in a video arcade. “We’re Through” takes an elastic
bass riff à la the Emotions’ “Best of My Love,” and slides it
over some shuffling beats and clanging cowbell, yielding a grubby,
midtempo dance track reminiscent of the Balihu Records bedroom
productions of Daniel Wang. Vocals are barked, grumbled, or processed
to resemble robots… anything but sung. Rough edges abound, yet warm
synthesizer textures lend a neon-suffused air of urban
sophistication.
Not bad for jams generated on a load of second-hand crap. “I have a
pretty meager setup,” Pants confesses. “I record on a computer from
1998. I have some random old synthesizers, and a lot of ’70s and ’80s
drum machines… things that just turned up here in Spokane. All my
gear is failing, some only works half the time, but I feel like I get
pretty good sounds out of it.” Friends have offered to teach him
ProTools; he remains disinterested.
High-school jazz band was the cornerstone of his brief formal
education. “I can really only play the drums,” he demurs, although he
generated almost all the sounds on Welcome single-handedly. “I
make it sound like I can play other instruments, but I can’t. All of
the music I make could really be played by a kindergartener. By
themselves.”
Vintage musical instruments aren’t the only items Pants picks up
secondhand. He has also amassed a vast library of used vinyl, with an
emphasis on the platters that other people pass up. “I only buy cheap
records,” he says. “Originally, I was purchasing a lot of ’80s R&B
and ’60s psych, but eventually, those things got expensive.” Now he
concentrates on the cheapest fare possible. “The next revolution is
always in the dollar bins, because that is the stuff nobody is looking
for.” Lately, he has even taken to snapping up homemade-looking demo
cassette tapes, and transferring them to his computer.
This fascination with cultural castoffs, combined with an attempt to
shake off the stress of a day job managing 401K plans, gave birth to
his earlier 2008 release, a mix CD titled Ice Castles: The Coming
of a New Age. The mix fuses square fare like Tangerine Dream,
exotica vet Dick Hyman, and even jazz fusion giants Weather Report into
a mesmerizing yet soothing sonic trip. Despite the title, no Peruvian
flutes, treated harp solos, or cameos by Yanni made the cut. “I hate
all that,” Pants grimaces. “I only like the really strange stuff, that
technically probably isn’t even New Age.”
Cheap rent and a penchant for making his own fun keep Pants in
Spokane. But the city’s biggest selling point is how uncool it remains
compared to most cities, including other towns he’s called home, like
Austin, Texas, and Richmond, Virginia. “Spokane is a weird place. It’s
a magnet for strange people. One of those cities that looks pretty
downtrodden—and it is—but within that you’ll find strange
pockets that wouldn’t exist in other metropolitan areas.”
Of course, this overlooked urban fantasyland has its downsides, too.
Like a paucity of late-night eats. “It’s all just fast food and a
burrito stand,” Pants laments. But if his career in music falls flat,
he has a foolproof backup plan. “I was in Chicago recently, and there
was a guy out on a bike at 3:00 a.m. selling tamales. I had to buy a
dozen. So I was thinking of opening up my own mobile tamale cart.” And
when they finish eating, customers can go feed the discarded corn husks
to that darn goat. 
