| The band released 1997's Enjoy Incubus EP and hit Europe with Korn. The schizo funk/jazz/metal S.C.I.E.N.C.E. dropped to decent sales soon after, and the band toured nonstop for two years, opening for bands like Sugar Ray and Limp Bizkit. Around the same time, Lyfe was replaced by Kilmore, a DJ from Pennsylvania who was struggling in L.A. He didn't even have electricity for a while. ("It was cool," he says. "I just used candles at night.") One evening, the phone rang. "It was this guy asking if I wanted to audition for a band called Incubus." He was so excited he learned 16 tracks in two days. Incubus won a slot on the second stage of Ozzfest in the summer of '98, thanks in part to Ozzy Osbourne's son, Jack, a big fan. "The rumor was that Jack's favorite bands got to play the second stage," says Jock Elliott, Incubus' product manager. Korn invited the band to Family Values that fall. But with 1999's Make Yourself, Incubus were making a clear attempt to bust out of the hard-rock world, with more tuneful, chorus-driven songs, and a bigger accent on vocals. "There's this formula of yelling and screaming over guitar riffs-that's not what we do well," Einziger says. "We have a singer with an intelligent voice who writes great lyrics, and we wanted the music to be much more of a platform for him." Nevertheless, the album's first single, "Pardon Me," stalled. Then one day on the tour bus, Elliott heard Einziger casually playing the song on a $50 acoustic guitar. "We got the idea to record an acoustic version and send it out to radio," Elliott says. "It just exploded." The song eventually peaked at number three on Billboard's modern rock radio chart, paving the way for "Stellar" and "Drive." Incubus thus became the odd Ozzfest band to break out of the hard-rock ghetto and cross over to Top 40 radio and VH1. They were also the only rock band on Moby's forward-looking Area: One festival last summer. Jed the Fish, the first DJ to spin Incubus at L.A. rock station KROQ, says, "Bands hate to categorize their music-they always say, 'What we do is unlike everything else.' And that is fucking bullshit. But it's true with Incubus." Through more than a decade of ups and downs, Incubus have stayed close friends, thanks to their mellow, surfer-dude personalities. The one time tension got really bad-during the recording of Make Yourself-they went to group therapy. "When we're making music together, it's like five men making love-in a very platonic sense," Brandon says. "It's very erotic, because your spirits are intermingling, you're becoming one. It's also why it can get so heated. You're tapping into this electricity that's very primal." "None of us are too high-maintenance," adds drummer Pasillas. "But if you have some serious issues and you've got to confide in someone, [bassist] Dirk is really good." Dirk Lance is the straight man of the group; beneath his impassive facade is a surprising warmth. Just don't wake him up too early. "Those four guys are some of the most positive people you will meet in your entire life," he says in his deep monotone. "They're always in a good mood, and I'm just not that way, so over the last ten and a half years that's provided for some interesting moments." Such as? "Brandon and I used to fight almost every day because I was not a morning person. First thing in the morning, don't greet me with a smile and a 'Hi! How are ya!' For, like, two years nonstop he would do that. I was like, 'Oh my God, you've got to be deliberately doing this to drive me crazy!'" Did he ever kick Brandon's ass? "We're much more passive-aggressive." |
| Lance says he hates it when writers portray Incubus as "such darn nice guys." But it's true: They are some of the most well adjusted rock stars in the under-40 bracket, which is reflected in their music. It's more supportive than challenging, and easygoing enough to blend into various radio formats or lighten up hard-rock playlists. ("You can put them next to Puddle of Mudd, or Pearl Jam, or Disturbed," says KROQ's Jed the Fish.) Brandon is simply a naturally happy person, and even his teenage torments didn't lead to the usual angst anthems. In fact, given his parents' remarriages, he's thrilled to have "this huge extended family. Everyone is so unique and interesting and weird and beautiful," he says. "I come home from tour, and I'm like, 'Ah, my crazy family!'" Tonight Brandon heads over to a Malibu restaurant for a birthday dinner in honor of his stepfather, Brad Wiseman. At a long table covered with seafood, Dolly and Brad, Brandon's brothers, and his two step-siblings chat animatedly. Brandon regales them with a story about getting caught up in a riot at an L.A. rave. "The cops were shooting rubber bullets as we were running toward the parking lot," he says, still bewildered. "But we were trying to leave!" Darren follows with a dramatic description of the sexy medic who worked on Brandon's ear. "She was pretty hot!" Brandon says. As soon as he finishes eating, he cuts out to visit a sick uncle. "Everyone in Incubus is very close to their families," Scott Litt says. For Incubus, rebellion is not about pissing off your parents; it's about growing up without succumbing to adulthood's grind. "People slowly destroy themselves doing what they think they have to do to make ends meet," Brandon says. "I like what I do. I love being able to express and create. But I also see it as a means to allow me to do [more internal work] without having worldly distractions like a nine-to-five job. I always want to be able to read and have the time to draw. "Right now is the craziest time that we've ever had," he continues. "I do take it seriously to an extent because I know that if we do it right, not only will we have the gratification of making music, but when I'm older I'll have the freedom to just say, 'What am I going to do today? I'm going to paint a really, really big picture.'" |