Photo ©Kevin Virobik-Adams

Storming Austin
By Chris Riemenschneider

The Austin American-Statesman
April 24, 1997

Meet the Prima Donnas, a British synth-punk band with an attitude.

Like so many other things unbelievable in the lives of The Prima Donnas, the ghostly vision of Stevie Ray Vaughan is something the members swear by.

"It wasn't my vision, it was Julius', but I believe him," said Otto Matik, the singer for Austin's only British-bred, synthesizer-fueled punk band. "He has visions all the time."

As Julius explained it -- Julius Seizure, that is, another name we're to believe -- Vaughan came to him in the middle of the night while the lads were still living in Sussex, England. It was not long after the guitar hero died, but long before Julius or his two bandmates could even locate Austin on the map.

That doesn't mean he can't remember the rather prophetic vision vividly.

"Stevie was standing above my bed, holding a beautiful Casio 341 (synthesizer)," Julius said, never once smirking or showing any sign he was tweaking the truth a bit. "He said to me, 'Julius, with my death comes the death of the guitar. Here's the next instrument, and I choose you and your mates to play it for the world."'

Of course, Stevie never would have used the word "mates," but we'll give Mr. Seizure the benefit of the doubt.

That's sort of what appreciating the Prima Donnas is all about -- giving them the benefit of the doubt. It's hard to believe, for instance, that this mysterious group of English boys, ages 20-21, even ended up in Austin. It's harder to believe they had the guts to take the stage here armed with only two synthesizers and enough cocky British attitude to declare themselves "the best band in Austin ... No, in the f---ing world."

FUTURISTIC VIBE

Most surprising, though, especially if you're someone who associates synthesizers with bad '80s bands like Haircut 100, is that the Prima Donnas could re- spark the punk-rock fire that has been less than raging in Austin as of late. Certainly, they could do it with their attitude alone. In concert, Otto struts and poses like a more suave version of Iggy Pop, all the while calling audience members "stupid American morons" and doing nothing to coax them into adoration.

Their music is equally riotous, offering a classic British, "oi-oi" sort of punk, the kind that inspires chants and hollers of the lewdest kind. The synthesizers provide the rhythms, but they don't really substitute for loud guitars. Instead, they offer a futuristic vibe that's equal parts kitschy and edgy, and definitely out of the norm in Austin.

"I was never nervous about (playing synthesizers in Austin) because I went into it like a blind fool expecting screaming girls and the audience to go nuts," Otto said. "I was puzzled at the first couple shows. I thought something was wrong with the people. And, it turns out, that's the case. They aren't familiar with this kind of music. Now, I take it as my duty to spread the synth gospel in Austin, Texas, and if they don't like it, I'm going to shove it down their throat and bang them over the f---ing head."

Clearly, the Prima Donnas have yet to earn an affection for Austin. One of their first shows, at a party on the West Campus area a year or so ago, found them face to face with a group of burly frat boys, who weren't amused by the trio's bratty musings and abrasive attitude. Eventually, the boys in the band had to be hurriedly shuttled away in the van, with the frat boys trying to punch out the windows as they drove away.

Unlike most musicians, the Prima Donnas didn't come here for the music scene. In fact, when asked if they knew about anyof Austin's touted musicians besides Vaughan, this is what happened:

Otto: "Oh, we knew Willie Nelson."
(Keyboardist) Nikki Holiday: "And the Butthole Surfers."
Otto: "Are they from here?"
Julius: "I'd never heard of them."

HOW DID THEY GET HERE?

It's unclear how the Prima Donnas really ended up here. They told me a story about being orphans together in Sussex, about how they were abused at the orphange and, upon leaving, had to become male prostitutes on the streets for awhile before saving up the money to come to America.

Once here, they reportedly drove a beat-up car from New York to Texas because they wanted to follow the Goodnight-Loving Cattle Trail, immortalized in "Lonesome Dove" and part of the Old West they dreamed of seeing since their first John Wayne movie. Along the way, they managed to stop in at the bar that used to be Gilley's in suburban Houston and ride the mechanical bull from "Urban Cowboy." ("Nicky really fancies John Travolta," Otto revealed, seemingly oblivious to the hilarity of the idea of three punks from Sussex driving all that way to ride a mechanical bull.)

Such a dutiful tour of Texas, however, came up bust when their car broke down in La Grange. A passerby told them that Austin, to the West, is probably the best place for them to try to play their music, and the Prima Donnas finally entered the land of Stevie Ray Vaughandom.

There has been much speculation over the validity of all that the Prima Donnas claim to be. Of course, they might have been orphans in an awful situation together. Their close bond seems to suggest it, exemplified during their photo shoot when they helped straighten out each other's hair (guys generally don't touch other guys' hair).

The Prima Donnas tell their tragedies with the same sincere conviction they use for their boastful claims, such as when they say they're really huge in England, where they released a handful of 12-inch singles before coming over. Meanwhile, in Austin, Julius said they've had 20 dinners with record-label A&R people over the past three months.

"It hasn't been 20 dinners," Otto sternly corrected him. "It's been like 13."

CATCH 'EM WHILE YOU CAN

What is certain about the Prima Donnas is they can be heard on a new split 7-inch single with the Hamicks, which will be available at their show at Emo's on Friday. They also are on the new local compilation "Rotating Parts."

It's also fact that they may not be around Austin much longer. The lads are still British subjects with only working visas. They're worried they may not get them renewed.