Albany octet Sgt. Dunbar and the Hobo Banned have just finished their biggest year yet. Despite their shows at SXSW, CMJ Fest, and attention from NPR and Metroland, the group is still working hard and waiting for an official email announcing “we’ve made it.”

The B3nson Collective is the kind of thing that marginalized cities dream of: a spark in the night, a flash of developing culture in a struggling neighborhood. For the last few years this thoroughly non-traditional recording company/musical collective has treated Albany music lovers to a procession of exceptional bands; one of which has recently garnered national attention: Sgt Dunbar and the Hobo Banned.

It was an unusually gorgeous day when Sgt Dunbar played 2009’s LarkFest, a showcase of the Albany region’s musical talent. The day’s headliners included Moby and Brooklyn-based duo Matt and Kim, and although the B3nson stage was set off from the main Lark Street area, a considerable crowd still gathered. When the Dunbar outfit took the stage in the late afternoon, the energy amped up, passers-by stopped, and people started dancing.

All eight members of Sgt Dunbar are musically multi-talented, relying on a flurry of instruments to create their brassy sound, which can be loosely described as a mix of Eastern European gypsy and New Orleans street jazz, with folksy Americana vocals. Louis Apicello, who plays, among other instruments, trumpet and kazoo for Sgt Dunbar, said that if there’s anything he’d want listeners to take away from his band it is that “all these band instruments in high school that got you made fun of for playing are actually pretty cool.” “Even if you don’t play them,” added Jen O’Connor, who plays violin and mandolin and adds vocals and percussion.

Sgt Dunbar makes it look cool; they also make it look easy. Their slot as a top Albany band is well deserved: the uniqueness of their sound as well as their comfort and cohesion on stage set them apart from many other acts at LarkFest, which ranged from hard rock to nu rock to electronica. “How fun is it for us to play music—we want to do that all the time,” said Louis.

The way things are going, Louis will get his wish. 2009 has been a busy year for Sgt Dunbar. While juggling multiple instruments and multiple bands, all eight members have traveled to play South by Southwest in Austin and CMJ Fest in New York City. NPR featured them as part of their SXSW coverage, naming them one of the “three artists to watch”—out of over 1000 bands. Needless to say, they’re big at home too.

Sgt Dunbar and the Hobo Banned was recently given the tag of the Capital Region’s “Best Great White Hope” in the 2009 “Best Of’s” issue of Metroland, Albany’s alternative weekly (think upstate Village Voice). “I don’t know . . . what do they mean by ‘Great White Hope’?” asked Louis. “White men can’t jump?” “Great white shark?” quipped Eric Krans, whose musical resume contains six instruments including bass and mandolin. Perhaps the band is hinting at the racial insensitivity of the unasked for title, or maybe they’re just uncomfortable with the attention.

Either way, the accolade hasn’t changed their conduct. Donna Baird, who plays horns and adds vocals to the mix, said, “All the pressure [remains] internal.” Alex Muro, who provides vocals and plays the guitar and accordion (to name a few instruments), said the touring and coverage have earned them greater exposure, “but not enough where we’ve sold a ton of records.”

“There’s no email saying ‘we’ve made it,’”

It’s the Thursday before Thanksgiving and all of Sgt Dunbar has gathered in the B3nson house, a gable-front Albany home where four of the members reside. It’s the night of the “B3nson Family Funsgiving Show” at Valentines, where several Sgt Dunbarians will perform in their other bands. Jen and Eric play in We Are Jeneric (get it?), and Donna is part of Scientific Maps (both bands also garnered honors in the “Best Of”); all Sgt Dunbar members back up Tim Koch’s side project, The Hoborchestra.

Sgt Dunbar formed roughly in 2007, but members have filtered in and out. The origin story begins with Tim Koch (trumpet, drums, etc.), and Alex, freshman roommates at SUNY Albany. They started playing acoustic songs, and other musicians soon gravitated towards them to join up. Jen and Eric joined as a duo, and Adam and Alex are brothers. Louis initially lived in D.C., but worked, saved and soon moved to New York. It was “planned joblessness,” he said. Although he doesn’t currently use band money for his expenses, eventually they all hope to earn enough to live off of the music. “We all have goals to quit our jobs,” said Donna.

With current jobs and college educations under their belts, there are no hobos in Sgt Dunbar and the Hobo Banned. The “hobo” in the Sgt. Dunbar name comes from Alex, who on a 2004 Greyhound trip from Kingston to Albany met the eponymous Sgt. Dunbar. “He sat in front of me,” said Alex, recounting his story. “I like talking to weirdos. I thought he was going to be weirder but he was actually sagely.” At the time, riding trains—i.e., hopping them—interested Alex, and Sgt. Dunbar told stories of his own train rides. “It’s really dangerous . . . I never did it,” Alex admitted. Dunbar, a Vietnam vet in his 60s, then explained the difference between hobos and bums: hobos give more than they take away. The motto has become something of a slogan for the band.

At the time of the meeting, Dunbar was dying of cancer, so it’s unlikely he’ll run into his namesake group, but if he did, Alex doesn’t know what he’d say. “‘Hey, how’ve you been? I named my band after you.’ It’d be way too awkward.”

The outlook is good for Sgt Dunbar. “There’s no set end point [for this band]. We’re enjoying the ride,” said Louis, adding, “I hear the world ends in 2012 so [we’ll be around] until then.” “I hear they pushed it back to, like, 2022,” retorted Tim. “Oh, then we’re alright.”

Impending apocalypse or not, Donna is planning for the future. “I want this house in Clifton Park—I saw it when I was doing an estate sale there—it has nine bedrooms. . . . My dream is that we all live in that house together.” “Chateaux Hobo,” joked Eric. And it just might work. Even with eight people, some of who already share the same living space, there’s an amazing internal harmony. “[There are] shockingly no tensions,” said Jen. “We’re like brothers and sisters that don’t fight.” “You’d think the tour would stress us out,” added Donna, “but that’s when we got along the best.”

Their shared hopes and unity have aided their success. The band has experienced a great year: their popularity and coverage skyrocketed, and their fan base undoubtedly increased. They’re even optimistic for West Coast and European tours. But let’s say what needs to be said: Albany is no New York City. It’s not an Austin, a Seattle, or an Omaha. It’s an impoverished city whose few highlights include a bro-bar district and the tiny, struggling Lark Street, upstate’s answer to the East Village (it’s a stretch of one street just a few blocks long, housing a handful of independent stores and decent bars). The scene here is a fledgling, which makes it all the more surprising that anything decent has risen out of the wasteland. Sustaining an artistic vibe is difficult when the few venues at hand are small and under-attended. The B3nson bands and other Albany area musicians are slowly slogging on, hoping to find their way out of the mire with no guarantee their work will succeed.

“Outside of Dunbar, we put a lot of work into shows,” said Alex. “It’s rewarding, but it’s also for selfish reasons,” hoping other bands can help out in return. “We support the scene,” said Tim. “Sometimes we go to a show and our eight people doubles the amount of people in attendance.” Even with depressing stories like that, Eric is optimistic. “Sometimes it feels like a small town, but ‘it’s happening.’” “Phantogram got picked up,” Alex added, referring to the Saratoga Springs group that got named “Best Electronic Duo” in Metroland. They’re now on Barsuk, which also carries Ra Ra Riot and Mates of State. Theirs is the happy ending Sgt Dunbar hopes for.

Photos from Ground Zero at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute.
All photography by Derek Duoba