Student Band Hits Its Stride With Earnest, Reverent Rock

According to vocalist Jesse Brownstein, the typical Melting Point fan is “usually drunk,” though guitarist Ben Kramarz is quick to add that “sober people like us, too.” Such candor is typical of this local student band, made up of Brownstein, Kramarz, Andrew Prout on drums and bassist Thomas Megantz. All four are juniors at UC Berkeley, and every one of them manages to mix rock star charm and confidence with a refreshing dash of humility. Set to debut two new songs at Blake’s tomorrow, these guys tell nothing but the truth—but they’ve got the skills to keep veracity from getting boring.

It’s easy to stick to the facts when you’ve got hard-driving singles like “Ishmael” and “Get on the Bus” on your first EP. There’s nothing quite like these songs out there: “Ishmael” has a pounding chorus reminiscent of an ’80s arena rock album without the cheese factor, while “Get on the Bus” has a more classic rock feel. Both are steeped in the knowledge of the musical eras that preceded them, while creating a sound that rejects basic retro regurgitation.

“We make music that we like,” Kramarz says of the band’s self-titled EP. Melting Point’s influences are many, from Megantz’s love of jazz to Prout’s Beatlemania. The band’s growing catalogue spans genre and defies categorization, but one thing links their oeuvre together: Each song has to be approved by the entire band. It’s a democratic process that usually begins with a riff or a beat discovered in rehearsal.

The melody then follows Brownstein home, where he writes most of the lyrics alone. The words to “Ishmael” were a stroke of serendipity. Kramarz misheard the song’s original chorus of “Tell me, tell me” as “Tell me, Ishmael.” The group agreed the latter had more potential than the former, and a fan favorite was born.

Equally providential was Kramarz’s discovery of Brownstein’s voice. The pair had long attended Hebrew school together, but it wasn’t until their teenage years that they realized a musical partnership was a possibility. Kramarz was sitting in the audience of a high school performance when Brownstein took the stage and sang “Agony” from Stephen Sondheim’s “Into the Woods.” His stage presence was undeniable, as was his vocal talent. The band’s beginning was a fairy tale story neither Kramarz and Brownstein, nor Sondheim could make up if they tried.

In 2005, they recruited Megantz on bass. Soon after, Prout auditioned to drum for the group and Melting Point was officially a force to be reckoned with—though at that point, they didn’t have a band name yet.

That would come later, after Kramarz got scammed on Market Street by a man claiming to be in a band called “Melting Point”—and in possession of some highly-coveted concert tickets. $30 (and zero tickets) later, the con was uncovered, but the group had something to call itself. Any other name might still be all right, but it probably wouldn’t be as catchy as “Melting Point.”

Catchiness pervades the band’s two lead singles, but it isn’t necessarily something they strive for. They all came to music young, in fourth grade on various instruments, and they’re in the business for the long haul.

Prout, a classical history buff, counts Vespasian as his favorite Roman emperor, principally because he managed to rule for such a long time. Kramarz’s artistic sentiments run on a parallel rail. “I’m never going to stop this,” he says, “no matter what.”

The group’s honesty in its songs would suggest (as fans would hope) he’s telling the truth.

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