Anti eyes: The East Village makes its way to Philly via Lach.

Lach of an Alternative

The founder of antifolk brings his tunes to the Tin Angel.

by Jennifer Kelly

If you’re going to start a genre, you ought to be able to define it. Lach, the East Village godfather of antifolk, has no problem with that. “Antifolk is to folk what punk was to rock ’n’ roll,” he says. “Both genres had gotten stale and commercialized and overblown, and the subgenres came in to say the emperor’s new clothes didn’t exist. Some people call it punk on acoustic guitars, but I think it’s more than that.”

Lach should know. He’s been running antifolk antihoots since the mid-1990s. His club nights in various locations have launched the careers of a slew of alternative artists, from Michelle Shocked to Beck to Kimya Dawson.

The man himself got his first big break in the music business the last time a Clinton was running for president. His home-recorded, goofball “Hillary Clinton Song” got heavy play in San Francisco in the early 1990s, kicking off a brief flirtation with major label success. That fizzled quickly, and ever since he’s been doing things the old-fashioned way—unplugged, unsigned and fiercely independent.

Four of his five albums have come out on his own Fortified Records label. The latest The Calm Before features Television’s Billy Ficca on drums, Michelle Shocked bassist Mike Visceglia, and Richard Barone and Chris Barron (of the Spin Doctors) singing backup.

Lach didn’t use any electronics on the album—no amps, synthesizers or samples—and he probably won’t be getting tangled up in cords anytime soon. “I’ve used electric guitars on past albums. I’ve never used pitch correction or samples or loops,” he says. “I wanted to get an acoustic sound for this album. I mean, for the guy who started antifolk, which is supposed to be an acoustic movement, all my previous albums are pretty much pop rock.”

One of the best songs from Calm, “George at Coney,” was written onstage at one of Lach’s antihoots, entirely off the cuff. “So after everyone’s played, about 3 in the morning, I traditionally play a set. I’ll play for about half an hour and I’ll just point to somebody and go, ‘What do you want to hear a song about?’” he says. “Whatever they say, I’ll incorporate into the song.”

One night a person yelled “George Harrison” and another suggested “Coney Island.” A minor classic was born. “I improvised this song about a lonely gray day when George Harrison has escaped the madness for one day and was just on his own,” he says.

Lach is playing the Tin Angel, a venue known for its strummy, dreamy folk shows. But it seems unlikely he’ll be donning beads and beard anytime soon. “Folk in the early 1960s was basically just a bunch of college white kids playing their diary entries to three slow chords on an acoustic guitar,” he says, adding that the new wave of folkers are, “flowery, hippie, meandering kind of stuff.”

“It doesn’t grip me. It doesn’t excite me. I don’t relate to what they’re talking about. It doesn’t have the bones of the city streets in it.”