And then he said it. And no one believed him.

“They think we’re Andy Kaufman-ing ’em!” Joey exclaimed, feeling defied. More audience members jested back with them. “Let’s continue this tender moment into the next song!” Still, the crowd seemed mildly unfazed and bewildered, as if the whole thing was a joke with no apparent punch line. The Mullets, one of the all-age scene’s most consistent sanctities, had just announced that they were breaking up.

Relax: The April 14 show was not the last Mullets show ever. That will happen June 16, and Mesker Shelter House #17 at 7:00 p.m.

I’ve given the Mullets several aggrandized platitudes over the years, but they were all genuine, and here’s my kicker: If Nirvana was a mid-’70s punk rock version of the Beatles, the Mullets were the ’90s-irreverent-Screeching-Weasel Beatles version. Not only that, but they had also an unprecedented and unilateral magnanimity amongst area bands. With the possible exception of Mock Orange, they were the most popular all-age band in Evansville; they were godfathers to all aspiring local punk bands. So why the break-up?

“We had talked about it before,” said drummer Hopeless. The largest justification was bass player Jason Sheeley’s departure to Savannah College of Art and Design, although there’s still a few details to iron out. “I’m not officially going,” said Sheeley, “I’m waiting to see if I have the money to go.” But as Behind the Music will later state, Jason being accepted was the main impetus behind the band dissolving. “I had a long discussion with Jason months ago about going to art school before he even let Justin or Joey know he had been accepted,” says Bob Renock, head of the Mullets’ label Higher Step Records. When I met Goebel for an interview at Sir Beef (as per his preference) and asked him why, I came to find that he had a written out list or reasons, of which he read out loud:

“Number one: I feel that the band is interfering with my paintball career. Playing music is fun, you know, but it just can’t compare to getting together with the best minds of the Tri-State. And I also need more time for exercising.

“Number two: Justin has said this: he claims we’re just not ‘Pantera enough.’ So he’s yearning to be in a more talented hard-ass band in which he’ll feel more comfortable wearing his French leather jumpsuits.

“Number three: (This will probably be the reason Jason gives you.) Jason may or may not be heading off to an art school in Savannah, Georgia, so that would make playing together kinda difficult. He really is an amazing artists—except—he insists on only drawing his own feet.

“Number four: The main reason why I started a band was to improve my love life; like most guys, that’s why I started a band. My love life is at an all-time high right now, ’cause I got a steady girlfriend now. She let’s me call her ‘Mammaw,’ and she lets me put wrestling holds on her, and she doesn’t force me to get out.

“Number five: The mullet hair cut craze. When we named the band, hardly anyone knew what a mullet was. Now it’s like a thing, and we just don’t want to be trendy. [reading] ‘Being called the Mullets now would be like….’ (I couldn’t think of a joke.)

“Number six: As I told you earlier, Henderson’s basic cable has expanded…need I say more? Also, wrestling has also been really good lately.

"Number seven: I’ve gotten to the point now where I can’t write songs unless I’m really messed up on Nyquil. And when it gets to the point where you’re substituting Nyquil for Dayquil—when you should be taking Dayquil, you’re taking Nyquil—you know you’ve got a problem. And that [cough]…that could lead to some [voice gets raspy]…serious problems.

“Number eight: Justin has butt problems.”

I chuckled as he read these of course. “Just because I don’t have a band doesn’t mean I’m not still a stud,” he says. But even then it dazed me. The Mullets announced the break-up at Mesker Shelter House #17, the exact same place I had first seen them—at the first local show I had ever attended in September of 1997 (and the very same place their last show will take place at). “All the bands on the label are like my family and it hurts when they go away,” says Renock. “This time it hurts a little more because I am very close with all of them personally.” I was thinking of a paraphrased version of the John Lennon adage: if you feel nostalgic, you can always pull out the three albums (…To Kentucky Kingdom Come; Typical Stereo; Fork, Knife, Spoon, Shut-Up) and the two EPs (Sit Down Mammaw; Flip-Flop Apocalypse), most of which are still available at Coconuts in Evansville or Henderson’s Music to Go. The big surprise Goebel dropped in the interview, though, was that the long planned compilation album was still due, now a Let It Be-style swan song tentatively titled Let’s Get Skanky—and it will encompass Mammaw and Apocalypse. “I told Bob, ‘You know we can’t support the album. Do you still want to put it out?’ And he said, ‘Yeah, I’d be honored.’”

Will Goebel, Sheeley, or Hopeless still play on in various incarnations? “I’d do it if the band’s right,” considers Hopeless. “Like if Joey ever starts something up, I’d be in it with him.” Goebel: “I know after two months of not playing, I’ll go into performance withdraws, and I’ll have to get something going.” For example, Joey proclaimed a strong affinity for the Pixies, the band that’s replaced Dead Milkmen as his prime inspiration/obsession. “And I’ve already started writing new stuff. It’s going to be…less terrestrial than the Mullets. I want to sound more like a band from outer space. And it won’t be as friendly as the Mullets. And I won’t sing about ‘little girls,’ or ‘boners,’ or ‘passing gas.’ I’ll sing about Napoleon, Franklin D. Roosevelt, [and] the moon. I love the moon. I’m a huge fan of the moon. And I think it really lends itself to music.” 

How existent is the smidgen of the possibility of a reunion, especially if a swank record deal were to appear (or at the very least, a stay of execution if Sheeley were to stay in town)? “If,” Goebel thinks out loud, “they were to allow us change our names, and play new songs, and be a different band with a different sound, yeah, that might work out. But not as the Mullets. The Mullets really are dead; death to the Mullets.” “If he doesn’t go to school, we’re still going to quit,” states Hopeless, plainly, although he and Sheeley wouldn’t discount playing shows through the summer. 

The main break-up motivation, though, is apropos of their typical self-deprecation. Goebel on the predicament of being signed: “I don’t know who’d want us really. My voice doesn’t sound enough like that dude from Creed. Every rock band has that voice [starts imitation]: whoooouuuu, whoooouuuu. So we couldn’t make it on a major label. I don’t know, it’s pretty hopeless. People say I’m being cynical, or I’m giving up or quitting. I think I’m being realistic. I’ve sent shitloads of demos out, and they’ve had plenty of time to respond. The question is not, ‘Why are you breaking up?,’ but ‘Why did it take you five years to break up?’ Because I think for teenagers…that’s an eternity.” Hopeless seconds that self-effacing motion. “The band’s not going anywhere.” 

But didn’t the Mullets have some of the most consistent, rabid crowds? Take for example Ohio River Rats frontman Andy Phillips, who ran the first official/fan Mullets webpage: “The Mullets are the ONE reason I got serious about music. I consider them more than friends, and love them more than they know.” If it weren’t for their fanbase, said Hopless, the band probably would have broken up in their first year. But that’s locally. The Mullets never were able to expand regionally, mostly because of Goebel’s distaste of touring. “Touring never did work out. Never had the time, money, energy, resources; you name it. And I never wanted to that much, because we’ve had so many bad experiences with out-of-town shows. Every time you play an out-of-town show it’s like totally starting over, and I couldn’t imagine doing that night after night after night. They have you play first, nobody’s there to help, you drive three hours to play for ten people. Now some people have said to me like, ‘You know Joey, if one person dug your music—if one person bought your CD—then it was worth it.’ But I think that’s being extremely idealistic.” At first, Justin and Jason rallied against Joey on his assessment, but they eventually adapted and accepted. Invariably, though, this led to the traditional band apathy and their low appraisal in the face of no bigger success. Meanwhile, I played the contrarian each time one band member uttered these sentiments of worthless merit, but it was like telling a girlfriend with self-esteem problems how beautiful you think she is: a pure declaration that turns to bitter frustration.

Midway through the Joey interview, I impetuously blurted out, “So when are you going to let this ruse die?” Pause. He laughed. He then took a tiny silence where I thought I saw his eye gleam for a second. I started to imagine a last Mullet show. During the last song, there would be some elaborate on-stage shenanigan. Goebel would fall “lifeless” to the ground like a punk rock Tinkerbell, victim of “Little Nicky’s bad box-office,” “Hulk Hogan still existing as a bad guy” or whatever skanky ailment they’d come up with. Hopeless or Sheeley would resuscitate him on-stage, either by getting the crowd to clap or promise to buy flip-flops. And Goebel would jump forth, yelling, “The Mullets can’t be dead, ’cause the Mullets gotta be livin’ loud!” And every one would acknowledged that they had been had. Laugh, the Mullets will go on.

But then I shook my head, realizing that Goebel’s silence was simply him taking his time with an answer. Long live the Mullets.