The Weird Behind The Hype

Despite being scheduled last in the evening, headlining band Morning Teleportation’s Travis Goodwin leans against the gated entrance to the patio-turned-stage, and nods his head naturally to the bluegrass-inspired music of openers Lost River Cavemen. The other members of the band arrive in like fashion and huddle against the gate watching on. The Cavemen finish an inspired and intimate show for the won-over audience as the second night of the Bowling Green Showcase at Bread and Bagel begins.

Other bands take the stage, and the band members of Morning Teleportation are among the most enthusiastic in the crowd, laughing along with the jokes and appreciatively involving the contortions of their bodies in the music. Guitarist and banjo player Tiger Merritt takes the stage and makes an announcement between acts: “If anyone has seen a missing banjo, we’d really appreciate getting it back.”

As Morning Teleportation’s band members make their way through the growing patronage, hushed excitement follows the fellows in the snug pastel pants and bright T-shirts.

“I hear they’re the best band in Bowling Green,” notes onlooker Mike Rivera between drags of a cigarette. Maybe so, but at the moment, greeting friends, enjoying music, and finding their missing banjo seems to be the only thing on their minds.

Morning Teleportation is a band born out of similarly blithe ambitions. After a summer of attending music festivals like Bonnaroo, Austin City Limits, and Lollapalooza, band members who call themselves Tiger Merritt, Paul Wilkerson, Travis Goodwin and Tres Coker made road trips to Austin, Texas from Portland, Ore. and Kentucky.

“We just met up with them — Goodwin and Merritt — and we all moved into a house and started actually writing instead of just playing around and got together as a four-person group,” recalls Coker, the drummer.

In Austin, the band began to play local venues like the Speakeasy, One 2 One, and Hi-Lo. They even almost made it to the legendary 6th Street location Antones Nightclub, before Coker’s birthday celebrations derailed their efforts.

“We were supposed to play Anotones on my birthday, and we had a show the night before and I was running through an alley and got hurt.” Coker says.

Despite not making it to their set at Antones, Morning Teleportation started to get some buzz surrounding their act, playing for large audiences at the bar Hi-Lo in the famed Austin warehouse district. With fame came complications, and difficulties with the business side of the music industry lead to the band’s return to Kentucky.

“We started to get a little bit of a following and had management problems and had a crazy bit of a manager, so we ended up living in a tent,” says Coker.

“That’s not really a good conversation,” Goodwin, the keyboardist, jokes as he interjects into the discussion.

Coker begins again, “So anyway we moved out of Austin and we’re kind of saving money up here and work some shows for a minute. We played in Cincinnati and Nashville and here. We did a little mini-tour with our bandit.” — Bandit is the loving name for the band’s tour bus. — “Our bandit was taken from us. Our bandit was the shit.”

Goodwin laughs as he lights his cigarette with gas station matches.

Out in the winding highways of Bowling Green, past the discernable signs of civilization, up a long driveway, and into a makeshift studio, Morning Teleportation hones their unique sound.

Rather than constructing songs within the tight structure of the pop song, Morning Teleportation’s organic gypsy sing-alongs feature easy transitions in and out of several contemporary and traditional disciplines complete with hand claps.

The lyrics are different too. Wandering voices sporadically add to the syncopated lyrical rhyme schemes as unfocused psychedelic choir crooning penetrate the acid hillbilly banjo-strumming and funky basslines.

“Let’s stay in this part a little longer than we usually do,” Merritt shouts. The band is working out a new song.

The band embraces a dialectic synthesis of many different genres as a part of their larger sound. Rather than be categorized as a “psychedelic” band, they would rather be known for embracing the supernatural aspects of all the genres.

“All music is inherently psychedelic; any music can trip you out,” Goodwin says. “I just like to change styles. I don’t like sticking in one category.

The process the band takes when creating a song has a lot to do with their ability to fuse different genres together. Instead of trying to fit instrument parts into a cookie-cutter format for song writing, the band’s unique process instead allows each player to fully express themselves by adding original parts to an interesting riff proposed by one of the band members.

“I’ll end up writing something,” says Merritt. “I’ll write a guitar and vocal part, kind of like a full song, and then Paul will have a sick bassline and Travis will have a sick piece. We all pretty much write our own parts and it falls together.”

In the open floor of local bar Tidballs, balcony seating and a crowded standing room only floor give an arena-like setting to the venue. Holding a bass drum and keyboards high above their heads, volunteers solicited at the bar weave through the crowd.

“I just met the drummer at the bar, and he asked me to help them out,” yells WKU instructor Brooks Johnson as he hands equipment up to the band.

On stage the band combines the familiarity of a local band with the buzz usually reserved for bands from out of state.

Three songs in, the crowd loses the nervous head bopping that characterizes most pedestrian performances and erupts into an all out dance fest. Moved by the clarity and energy of the music, all are either dancing with their hips, twitching with their soul, or jumping with their feet.

Many sing along as Morning Teleportation grooves with jam-band like innovation through favorites like “Banjo Disco” and “Snow Frog vs. Motor Cobra.”

In between songs, the band members show off their chops by playing impromptu solo jams. The crowd knows each band member by name, and screams as the band acknowledges the enthusiasm in the room.

Coker loses his shirt and his lighter. He calls out for a lighter between songs, and gets barraged with several.

Wilkerson and Merritt feed off each other’s vibe and rock back and forth in synchronized motions as they drive through each distinctive song.

Goodwin stands on an amplifier during set closer, “Crystaline,” and works the crowd into a frenzy, while banging on bells and assorted percussions.

Cleary impressed with the outpouring of support, the band exchanges semi-secret looks and smiles as they end their show.

The band quickly makes its way through the crowd to the door, in hopes of beating the rush for a cigarette break.

In line with their nomadic band history, Morning Teleportation intends on moving along.

“We’re pretty much here until we head out to Portland, Ore., like mid-November to record a full length,” Merritt says.

Rumored to be associated with a connected production team, Morning Teleportation will cut an entire LP, drawing from their short EP recorded in Austin. While in Bowling Green the band intends on staying busy by playing local venues and potentially releasing a single and some original electronic content.

In many ways the experience of Morning Teleportation mirrors the experience that many know in Bowling Green. A novel city, devoid of the pretension and pressure that bigger cities often enforce, Bowling Green can be a laboratory of innovation. A safe place to express ideas and to experiment with the defining years and experiences of youth. The innocent impulsivity of the music of Morning Teleportation can be a reminder of that process, and a reminder of the good that this city can bring to those who embrace its charm.

Perhaps Coker puts it best: “Just jam out for a while until something sounds good.”