This is where I feel awkward.
But the truth is, I love Pleaseeasaur. Besides, any publicity is good publicity, even if you get called a retard. At least, that's what they say.
But sitting across from me, J. P. is as normal as can be. He's a good looking chap, well-spoken, obviously intelligent. He is nothing like the guy on stage who dresses in a polar bear costume (actually, it's the abominable snowman, I quickly learn), delivers hysterically bad rhymes, dances like a spaz, and sings about soup and Battlestar Galactica. The J. P. I'm chatting with co-owns his own label, Alpha Quadrant Empire of Universal Signals. He is a publicist, a promoter, a booker. And he has his own action figure.
For the uninformed, Pleaseeasaur is another name for the Loch Ness Monster. It is also a two-man supergroup consisting of J. P. and his behind-the-scenes cohort Ben Blankenship. Formed six years ago when J. P. started fooling around with his father's Yamaha sequencer, they specialize in perverted hiphop--ridiculously bad beats, absurd rhymes, and hysterical stage moves.
They are living, breathing irony.
"We don't want to be serious rockers," J. P. tells me. "We want to have fun. But we're very serious about joking around."
An average Pleaseeasaur show goes something like this: J. P. paces around on stage blurting out lyrics (nearly half of which are improvised) against the weakest beats imaginable. Occasionally he jumps up in the air, then lands awkwardly. There are costume changes and intermissions, jokes in between songs.
It is a strange and hysterical sight--the whitest form of hiphop the world has ever known, and one of the most entertaining shows around. It will either make you laugh or damage you emotionally.
