We Came From Celluloid

Nicky P

At the intersection of music and movies, there is a band from Ohio. These are their conversations on life, music, and more.

  1. 1d ago ·  Video

    All Torn Up, Cop Out, and Bowhead: Joey Steele on Music as Community Organizing | e Came From Celluloid 022-G

    Welcome back to We Came From Celluloid, where two pop culture nerds and band geeks sit at the apex of music & film, except this week we actually let a third weirdo into the room. I'm Nicky P, here with Brian Pritchard, and this episode we're joined by Joey Steele, a man Brian has known since they were 13-year-olds destroying their hearing in a band called Nosferatu, and who has since spent the last 20-plus years fronting All Torn Up, Cop Out, and Bowhead.   This is only the second time we've had a guest, and Joey did not come to play nice. He came in hot with a theory of music as community organizing, stayed hot through a debate about whether punk audiences actually agree with anything, and left us with a metaphor involving methamphetamine and Malcolm X that I'm still thinking about.   What We Cover: Joey's 20-year run fronting All Torn Up, and the very different mission behind Cop Out Why "music is community organizing" and musicians who deny that "suffer" for it The Commitments and the difference between showing off and actually connecting How three bands (All Torn Up, Cop Out, Bowhead) let Joey express anger, playfulness, and pure surrealism separately Punk scenes, masculine energy, circle pits, and who gets left out of the room Night of the Living Dead as an accidental political awakening in eighth grade Spike Lee's run of films (Crooklyn, Clockers, Bamboozled) as a suburban wake-up call The "moment between thought and action," Nicky's slow-down theory vs. Joey's speed-up-and-hit-a-brick-wall theory Malcolm X as the shared reference point for both approaches Whether arguing has ever actually changed anyone's mind (spoiler: rarely) John Waters vs. anger as competing strategies for getting a message across Bowhead's surreal lyrical world, insects, conjoined twins, and a Joshua tree watching the world burn The upcoming Bowhead / Puma Thurman tour dates later this year The Real Talk: This episode is proof that our best conversations happen when somebody disagrees with us in a way that actually sharpens the point instead of just being noise. Joey and I don't agree on much, politically, temperamentally, or otherwise, but that friction is exactly what made this one worth recording.   Deep Dive: The Moment Between Thought and Action: My whole framework is "slow down and think before you act." Joey's is "speed up until thought and action happen at the same time." Different roads, same destination: Malcolm X, who Joey credits with mastering exactly that synthesis, and who's quoted on every single All Torn Up record because of it.   Deep Dive: Three Bands, Three Emotions: All Torn Up is anger. Cop Out is joy and resistance together. Bowhead is pure surrealism, a song about insects leaving a waterfall shelter, a song about conjoined twins in a car accident, and a song about being a Joshua tree watching fire roll down a mountain toward you. Same guy, three completely different emotional registers.   Key Moments: Joey's Nosferatu-induced hearing damage and the song "Lost Monkeys" "If you wanna wank, use that thing in your hand, not your sax," Nicky's Commitments reference lands perfectly The circle pit vs. the political slogan: why Nicky's punk roots were about the room, not the ideology Night of the Living Dead: an eighth grader's first real political thought, delivered by Tom Savini The meth/Malcolm X exchange that anchors the whole episode Joey teasing Bowhead's "The Burning," the Joshua tree song that closes out the episode The Bottom Line: Whether you slow down or speed up, the goal is the same, actually thinking about what you're doing instead of running on conditioned autopilot. Joey's spent 20-plus years trying to force that moment through music. This episode is us trying to have it out loud, on mic, in real time.   Also Featured: Tangents about bass players never counting, System of a Down playing to stadiums full of people who don't share their politics, and whether Nicky is secretly more of a John Waters guy than he's willing to admit. This episode is for anyone who's ever wondered whether art changes minds faster than arguing does, and for anyone who's ever had a band practice end in a broken hand over a political disagreement.   Subscribe, rate, and review We Came From Celluloid wherever you listen. Follow us on social media for behind-the-scenes content, movie recommendations, and more conversations about the films and music that shape our lives.

    All Torn Up, Cop Out, and Bowhead: Joey Steele on Music as Community Organizing | e Came From Celluloid 022-G
  2. 1d ago ·  Video

    Inside Puma Thurman's First Tour Documentary and Twenty Years of Showing Up | We Came From Celluloid 022

    Welcome back to We Came From Celluloid, where two pop culture nerds and band geeks sit at the apex of music & film, except this week the "film" part is literally about us. I'm Nicky P, here with Brian Pritchard, and we just got back from Puma Thurman's first out-of-state, multi-city run, which means we also just got back from watching a rough cut of an actual documentary somebody made about it.   Look, it's a weird thing to process. Brian's kid Ben directed it, and it's genuinely good, like, "holy shit, we caught lightning in a bottle" good, especially the New Haven footage. But watching yourself be the subject of a movie hits different than watching a movie about somebody else. There's a whole conversation in here about what it's like to sit there cringing at your own seriousness on camera while doing the exact same seriousness on a podcast every single week.   What We Cover: Why we're finally moving toward video accompaniment for live shows (and Brian's Second Half / Jurassic Park comparison for why we've had no excuse not to) Getting Max acclimated as the newest member ahead of a December show Reviewing the rough cut of the tour documentary and what it's like being a first-person subject in someone else's vision The New Haven footage that captured, in Brian's words, "lightning in a bottle" The final slow-motion shot connecting this year's tour footage to Puma Thurman's first show in 2005 Jay Bombalicki, the Denver host Brian's known for 30 years, and what it means to keep a friendship going that long Nicky's perspective as the relative outsider watching two decades of the same guys still showing up for each other A candid, wide-ranging conversation about growing up in very different environments, Brian in an affluent Cleveland suburb, Nicky in rural upstate New York, and how those different paths somehow led to the same place The Real Talk: This episode started as a routine "how was your week" and turned into an actual gut-check about legacy. Brian's been going out on stage with the same "try hard" energy for twenty years, and watching that captured in slow motion, the exact millisecond he and Levante lock eyes on stage in 2005, echoed by the same connection today, is the kind of thing that sneaks up on you. Nicky, who's only been in the fold a fraction of that time, spends a chunk of the episode sitting with what it means to watch other people have that kind of continuity when almost nobody in his own life has stuck around that long.   Deep Dive, Becoming a Movie Band: Brian's been talking for years about wanting video accompaniment behind the band live, name-checking a local act called Second Half whose guitarist used to "duet" with pre-recorded footage of himself, like something out of Jurassic Park. With the tour documentary now real and the band's mythology expanding (yes, there's a church now, long story, next episode probably), the video component finally has a reason to exist.   The Bottom Line: Sometimes the most interesting thing you can talk about on a film-and-music podcast is the film that got made about you. This episode is for anyone who's ever looked at old footage of the people they love and realized how long you've all actually been in this together.   Also Featured: Getting the drum kit reassembled after the tour, Max's new house and future home studio, why Nicky's never met anyone in his life who's stuck around as long as Brian's crew has, and a long, honest conversation about growing up in very different worlds and ending up in the same band.   Subscribe, rate, and review We Came From Celluloid wherever you listen. Follow us on social media for tour footage, documentary updates, and more conversations about the films and music that shape our lives.

    Inside Puma Thurman's First Tour Documentary and Twenty Years of Showing Up | We Came From Celluloid 022
  3. Jul 18 ·  Video

    From College Radio to Breaking News: Ryan Albanese on Luck, Hustle, and Chasing Movie Sets | We Came From Celluloid 021-G

    Welcome back to We Came From Celluloid, where two band dads talk movies until it somehow turns into a life lesson. I'm Nicky P, here with Brian, and this week we brought on somebody who's built an entire second life out of a question most of us have asked exactly once and then forgotten about five seconds later: "Wait, is that a real place?"   Ryan Albanese runs a YouTube channel dedicated to finding real-world filming locations, and I mean finding them, as in FBI-level, old-newspaper-archive, Google-Earth-Pro-for-three-hours finding them. Brian's been a fan of his work for a while, and honestly I get why. This isn't a guy chasing viral clout. This is a guy who will fly to a forest preserve in New Mexico with no Street View coverage because a book from 1992 said the trees from Last of the Mohicans might still be standing.   What We Cover: How Ryan fell into the "is that a real place" rabbit hole starting with Field of Dreams and the apartment from Singles Why his YouTube channel exists because a Gen Z coworker basically dared him into it The difference between chasing views and chasing the thing you actually love How his scrappy, run-and-gun filming style accidentally became his resume for a job as a breaking news photographer Using ChatGPT to identify a Malibu high school rooftop from a single shot in seconds Old newspaper archives, ancestry.com, and how he tracked down the actual houses from Remember the Titans The Braveheart field in Ballymore Eustace, Ireland, a stranger, a Facebook group, and three hours of tea with someone who thought he was crazy Cold-DMing Paul Walter Hauser on Twitter and landing his first celebrity interview Brian's own detective work trying to track down the tree from The Killing of a Sacred Deer using a decades-old City Beat article Why "put yourself in the position to be lucky" might be the actual thesis of this whole episode The Real Talk: This episode started as a conversation about movie locations and ended up being about something a lot more useful, how you actually build a creative life without a map for it. Ryan didn't get discovered. He didn't have a plan. He just kept doing the thing, badly at first, in public, for free, until doors that had nothing to do with movies started opening because of it. Deep Dive, The Ballymore Eustace Story: Ryan needed to find one specific field from Braveheart, in a country full of fields, with no usable satellite imagery. So he joined a hyper-local Irish Facebook group, asked a total stranger a question, got pointed to a woman who takes care of the land, cold-messaged her, and got invited over. She thought they were crazy. She made them tea. They talked for three hours. That's the whole internet-era version of "knock on doors," and it still works exactly the same way it always has.   Career Longevity Discussion: We get into how Ryan's completely unrelated hobby became his actual career path, how a scrappy YouTube portfolio, built with no crew and no lighting kit, translated directly into a job shooting breaking news. It's a good reminder that the "useless" thing you do for love is rarely as useless as it looks. Also Featured: Tangents about Toronto standing in for half of American television, the Fisher King castle, Kevin Smith's Secret Stash, why rock radio stations are always the smallest stations in the building, and Brian's ongoing plan to track down a single tree in the hills above Cincinnati.   This episode is for anyone who's ever paused a movie to Google a building, and for anyone trying to figure out how the hell you turn something you love into something that actually pays.   Subscribe, rate, and review We Came From Celluloid wherever you listen. Follow us on social media for behind-the-scenes content, movie recommendations, and more conversations about the films and music that shape our lives.

    From College Radio to Breaking News: Ryan Albanese on Luck, Hustle, and Chasing Movie Sets | We Came From Celluloid 021-G
  4. Jul 17 ·  Video

    First Tour Post-Mortem: Setlists, Shaky Hands, and Becoming the New Version of Us | We Came From Celluloid 021

    We told you last time that we'd come back different. Turns out we weren't kidding. This episode is the debrief nobody tells you they need after a first tour, five gigs, five completely different rooms (an art-space bookshop, a punk bar across from a soccer riot-in-waiting, a Chicago venue, a guy's actual apartment balcony in Denver), and about a thousand small lessons we didn't know we needed until we were living them in real time. Brian and I get into the stuff you'd expect: how a single show teaches you more than months of practice ever could, why I finally figured out what it means to actually be a frontman instead of just playing one, and the ongoing argument about how much of a setlist should be locked in versus left open to feel the room. (I'm a 10-to-20%-wiggle-room guy. Brian likes to f**k with a song's mood on the fly. We're both right, apparently.) But this one gets real. Brian gets honest about what it costs to chase this thing in your forties, the "table legs" of creative life, day-job life, and family life, and what happens when the band leg starts wobbling the other two. I get honest about a relationship on the tour that quietly ran its course, because that's what happens when you lock people in a van for ten days. Nobody's mad. Nobody's fine either, exactly. That's just what touring actually does to people. We also walk through the practical lessons, the PA system we should've brought, the four-act bills that stretched everybody thin, the map we're already building of every venue within five hours of every other venue so the next run doesn't eat ten-hour driving days alive. If you've ever wondered what actually happens in the gap between planning a tour and being a band that's been on tour, this is that gap, unfiltered.

    First Tour Post-Mortem: Setlists, Shaky Hands, and Becoming the New Version of Us | We Came From Celluloid 021
  5. Jul 1 ·  Video

    Band Loyalty, Lyric-First Songwriting, and the Real Cost of Touring with Day Jobs With PsyDefects | We Came From Celluloid 020-G

    Welcome back to We Came From Celluloid, where Brian and I talk about the movies and music that keep us sane, and occasionally stumble into conversations that remind us why we started playing in the first place. I'm Nicky P., here with Brian Pritchard, and this week we're joined by Dennis of PsyDefects out of Sioux Falls, South Dakota.   Here's how this episode came to exist: Puma Thurman is going on tour, Brian posted into a local Facebook group trying to find bands and venues in Sioux Falls, and approximately nobody responded. Then Dennis raised his hand. One guy. Out of hundreds. And that's how we ended up with a genuinely great conversation about what it actually means to keep making original music when the world mostly just wants you to play Creep.   Dennis plays bass and handles a lot of vocal duty for PsyDefects, a band that's been through the full arc of lineup changes, cover sets, six-year hiatuses, and finally, an album. Mr. Nothing dropped in October with 12 or 13 tracks. The origin story involves a mutual friend, a funeral where Dennis and his best friend from high school looked at each other and said "why aren't we playing together," and a lead guitarist named Terry who can hear a riff once and play it like he's been doing it his whole life. Dennis is a lyricist first, he's got 20 songs' worth of words written with no music yet, and the whole episode is a pretty honest conversation about what that creative process looks like when you're a full-time worker, a family person, and someone who genuinely can't not make music.   We go deep on the covers vs. originals debate, the tension between wanting to play your own stuff and knowing that a three-chord banger gets the crowd when a 10-minute prog epic gets one guy in the corner nodding. We talk about Leonard Cohen, Pump Up the Volume, Kuffs, and the moment Brian's future daughter-in-law saw Christian Slater on Curb Your Enthusiasm and said "isn't that the guy from Kuffs?", which is maybe the proudest Brian has ever been in his life. We talk about art inspiring art, what Hollywood is missing when its writers haven't lived enough life to have a lens, and why sometimes the most honest place a song comes from is grief.   Dennis also tells the story behind a song called "Olive Juice," which I will let him explain himself, but I will say it is the best etymology of a song title I've heard in a while.   What We Cover: How Brian cold-called his way into a Sioux Falls tour date and Dennis was the only person who answered Side Effects, Mr. Nothing, and what it takes to finally get an album out Lyric-first vs. music-first songwriting and why having a notebook full of phrases is the best collaborator's superpower The Creep argument, covers, crowdpleasing, and when the "artistic integrity" position costs you the room Leonard Cohen, Pump Up the Volume, and a year-and-a-half hunt for a song that wasn't on the soundtrack Art inspires art, the Tom Savini documentary that made Brian want to go make something immediately Writing songs about grief and why sometimes catharsis cuts out mid-chorus Olive Juice, the friend zone, and a brother who wanted the song to sound sadder Why it's worth going on tour even when it's objectively a terrible financial decision   If you're a musician who has ever had to argue that playing a song the crowd actually knows is not a moral failure, this episode is for you.   Subscribe, rate, and review We Came From Celluloid wherever you listen. And if you're in Sioux Falls, come out and see us.

    Band Loyalty, Lyric-First Songwriting, and the Real Cost of Touring with Day Jobs With PsyDefects | We Came From Celluloid 020-G
  6. Jul 1 ·  Video

    The Pre-Tour Send-Off, Peak Performance Philosophy, and Loving Being the Weak Link | We Came From Celluloid 020

    Welcome back to We Came From Celluloid, I'm Nicky P, here with Brian Pritchard, and this one's a little different. This is the last episode we recorded before Puma Thurman hit the road for our first real tour. And I don't say that as a throwaway detail. By the time you hear this, we're already different people. Whatever version of us is in this recording, that's the old guys. The pre-tour guys.   So what do two guys talk about when they're on the edge of something they've never done before? Apparently a lot.   We start with the practical stuff: tour prep, backup gear, why I insist everyone bring two guitars so nobody has to retune mid-set in a city where we don't know a single person. Brian bought drum cases for the first time in his life, and the conversation about why, about how the stakes feel different when you're away from home base, away from your tribe, turns into something bigger pretty fast.   That something bigger is the idea Brian dropped about the best-band-in-the-world feeling. That moment on stage when you're locked in and you just know it. Not arrogance. Not competition. Just execution. Brian felt it at the Dome show. I felt it last Friday when Joe Petrick and the rest of those guys apparently had to follow us and knew it. And the thing is, when you play like that as an opening act, you make it better for everybody. You set a bar the whole room has to reach for. That's not ego. That's craft.   From there we go deep on what actually creates that feeling, and it's not talent, it's pressure. Brian tells the story of being tapped to play in Third World Leader, being a drummer who'd put out records and played hundreds of shows, and suddenly being the weakest person in the room. He almost backed out. Instead, he had what he now calls the greatest creative achievement of his life. I've been doing the same thing my whole career, seeking out bands better than me on purpose, because I love the feeling of having to earn my spot. Hot City Symphony, progressive rock tribute, me learning time signature music I had no business attempting. That's where the growth is.   Which leads to maybe the best back-and-forth of the episode: Brian making the case for pleasure for its own sake, and me explaining that for me, the effort is the pleasure. The dopamine isn't in the Starburst jelly beans. It's in finishing something. Pushing to the next level. Breaking through. Brian calling this philosophy a bummer before eventually admitting it resonates more than he wanted to.   We also get into substances and touring (neither of us exactly party animals at this point), travel personalities (Brian's a Manhattan-seven-times guy, I don't understand vacations as a concept), and pat Smear's decision to leave the Foo Fighters to spend time with his kids, what it looks like when someone at the big show decides a traditional life sounds better. And then we sign off. "This is the old me," Brian says. "The old me signing off." By the time you're listening to this, we've either figured out what we're made of out there on the road, or we've got some interesting stories.   Either way, come find us at a show. We'll be the band that already played by the time you get there.   Subscribe, rate, and review We Came From Celluloid wherever you listen.

    The Pre-Tour Send-Off, Peak Performance Philosophy, and Loving Being the Weak Link | We Came From Celluloid 020
  7. Jun 27 ·  Video

    Tribute Bands, Imposter Syndrome, and Getting Out on the Road With Tlalok Rodriguez | We Came From Celluloid 019-G

    Welcome back to We Came From Celluloid. I'm Nicky P, here with Brian, and this week we've got our Milwaukee connection on the pod, Tlalok Rodriguez, the guy who single-handedly made our Wisconsin tour stop possible by doing something apparently rare in this business: seeing a post and actually doing something about it.   Tlaloc is a Milwaukee-based multi-instrumentalist operating under the band name Tlaloc (spelled T-L-A-L-O-K, because his mom wanted to be hip), and the guy has his hands in more projects than most of us have had opinions about music. There's his original material, somewhere in the R&B/trip hop/indie bossa nova zone, a Latin band called Los Mipoteros, a Bee Gees tribute called Night Fever MKE that's actively searching for a better name, a Sublime tribute, a Grateful Dead tribute, a Nirvana vs. Green Day situation, and something he does with a saxophone player in his mid-60s that honestly sounds like the vibe I've been chasing for years. He also bartends, books music at a venue, runs a farmers market operation, and apparently has the entire Milwaukee musician Facebook group infrastructure memorized. The man contains multitudes.   What starts as logistics for our upcoming Milwaukee show, Who's playing? Where are we crashing? Is there a jam session at the end? turns into a real conversation about what it actually takes to build a music life from the inside out. We talk about the difference between being a hired gun and having a project you're trying to push. We talk about the grind of recording, the album that's been "coming out" for a couple years, the Christmas record that got used even though the vocals were peaking because sometimes you just gotta use it. We talk about how the best musicians Brian knows approached recording the same way Tlaloc does: just show up and be the talent. Let the engineer do their job.   There's a detour into imposter syndrome when I admit I ghosted a perfectly good Craigslist sax player because he had actual pedigree and I panicked. Brian tells the story of a classical trumpet-and-violin guy who just wanted to rock out with some dudes and found exactly what he was missing. Tlaloc assures me the jazz community is more reachable than I think. He's already offered to find me a sax player in Cleveland. I'm choosing to believe him.   We also cover: the Blues Brothers defense (the strategy of playing whatever three country songs you know when you accidentally book a gig at the wrong bar), genre snobbery in jazz versus metal and why the most dedicated practitioners of any craft become the most opinionated about it, and the name "Big Salty Tear," which is now the only Sublime tribute concept that matters.   At the end, Tlalok plays us an original , a live recording under his Burns to the Soul-adjacent sound, and it's a good reminder of why we do this whole thing. The music is real, the scene-building is real, and the people who hold it together are usually the ones you find through a Facebook post at midnight. tlalok.com. Go find the man.

    Tribute Bands, Imposter Syndrome, and Getting Out on the Road With Tlalok Rodriguez | We Came From Celluloid 019-G
  8. Jun 27 ·  Video

    The Fingerprint of a Voice, Delusional Self-Belief, and YouTubers Beat Star Wars at the Box Office | We Came From Celluloid 019

    Welcome back to We Came From Celluloid, the show where we start talking about a Michael Bolton tour shirt and end up at the uncanny valley. I'm Nicky P., here with Brian Pritchard, and this week we accidentally made an episode about one of the defining questions of the moment: why does everything fake feel worse, and why does everything real feel better?   We open where any great conversation opens, Brian's XL shirt that he keeps as a motivational object, Michael Bolton's Samson-era hair, and a detour into the Hall & Oates hotline that may or may not still be operational (someone should check). From there, we talk aging rock voices, which ones hold up, which ones don't, and why I made the very deliberate choice not to watch Hall & Oates live once Daryl's voice started going. There is something genuinely heartbreaking about watching a vocalist you love get confronted with obsolescence. Even over ten years of Puma Thurman, my own voice has shifted in ways that required some creative rewrites. You evolve, or you fake it, and faking it doesn't work in the long run.   That idea, real things aging well, fake things aging badly, threads straight into the special effects conversation, which is the meat of this one. Here's the argument: CGI in movies right now is objectively worse than it was in 2008. Not subjectively. Objectively. The VFX pipeline is overburdened, the artists are underpaid, and Hollywood keeps greenlighting more and more content without the capacity to do it well. You get Ant-Man: Quantumania looking like a PlayStation cutscene when '70s Star Wars still holds up. Brian clocked it perfectly, we haven't just plateaued, we're rolling backwards. Meanwhile, Jon Favreau brought stop-motion into The Mandalorian and reminded everyone that practical effects work because practical effects work. Full stop.   Brian takes it further, and this is where the episode gets interesting. He makes the case that the broader cultural drift toward AI and artificiality is triggering a counter-reaction, that the hunger for authenticity isn't just nostalgia, it's biology. He bought VHS tapes again last year. Major label artists are releasing new records on cassette. The 4K-to-8K upgrade cycle died before it started. People aren't chasing better resolution; they're chasing realness. The Backrooms movie, which made $82 million in its opening weekend for A24, works precisely because it plays with the uncanny valley on a global scale, every scene feels, in the words of a musician friend of mine, like a song that refuses to resolve. That unsettled feeling is the point. We're wired to distrust the almost-real.   Which brings us to Hollywood learning the wrong lesson, as Hollywood always does. The same weekend Backrooms and Obsession both hit $100 million, a movie Disney spent hundreds of millions on landed in third place behind them. Obsession was made for something like $300,000. A YouTuber made a feature that out-earned a Star Wars production. Does Hollywood look at that and think "we need to invest in scrappy, authentic storytelling"? No. They're going to throw that same money at other YouTubers and wonder why it doesn't work when they try to replicate it at scale. The lesson is always the wrong lesson.   We also get into the Boondock Saints documentary, delusional self-belief as a career strategy, and Brian's unironic acknowledgment that the egocentric prick who kicks doors down is also sometimes the one who breaks through. Not the only road map. But a road map. Real recognize real, as I helpfully remind him at the end.   It's a grab bag, always is, but there's a real thread running through all of it. The real things last. The fingerprint of a voice, practical effects, indie films made by people who had something to say, that's what we keep coming back to. Tune in, and head to pumarocks.com to stay in the loop.

    The Fingerprint of a Voice, Delusional Self-Belief, and YouTubers Beat Star Wars at the Box Office | We Came From Celluloid 019

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At the intersection of music and movies, there is a band from Ohio. These are their conversations on life, music, and more.