Springfield band Pomfret reflects on first anniversary of EP plan’s moving forward

 Written by Alyssa Roney

Photography by Mavis Parks

Graphics by Abby Woodfin

If one gets close enough to Springfield, Missouri’s campus-strewn center, they will likely encounter a wide array of bumper stickers adorning tiny cars and trucks belonging to some sardonic limb of a student body. Often, these are quick gags: “If you ride my tail, you’re ugly,” said one sticker on a car parked downtown. A sticker on a different car read, “My son plays guitar in Pomfret, and I am so proud of him.”

The moniker “Pomfret,” a term generally used to describe a robust type of silverfish, also originates from Fayetteville, Arkansas. It is the name of the residence hall where local bassist Davey Grumbine lived while attending the University of Arkansas. It is also the name of his band.

Grumbine, along with guitarist Phil Greenaway; guitarist and vocalist Jack Kamienski (jokingly called “John Pomfret” by fans); and drummer Maguire Kelly, make up the bumper sticker’s namesake.

The Midwest emo band was insouciant in appearance during a rehearsal in Grumbine’s basement, also a house concert venue known as “the Dish Pit.” Every member wore a t-shirt from a different band, and everyone but Kelly donned a pair of dirty white sneakers (Kelly, the drummer, wore sandals).

 The rehearsal, which was the first in three months, began raucously to the sound of Kelly’s pounding cymbals and drums. Kelly, who wore his brown chest-length hair in a ponytail, rolled his tongue around his mouth, focused as he perfected his craft.

 At the band’s rehearsals, one encounters the group at its most vulnerable. 

Kamienski, Grumbine, and Greenaway faced each other as Kamienski belted into the microphone. With eyes often closed and a strained expression on their face, they became the angst of their lyrics. Greenaway, on the other hand, smiled down at their guitar as they pounded out power chords.

 Their backdrop is simple: Behind them hangs gay and transgender pride flags, along with a graffitied, upside-down American flag.

Pomfret, which has 274 monthly Spotify listeners, celebrated a major milestone on Sept. 1: Their debut EP, “Addendum Adolescence,” turned one year old.

 The cover art of “Addendum Adolescence,” designed by local artist Jaylen Early, insinuates the band’s direction. Through a pine green filter, a water tower and telephone lines cut their way into a sparse sky. This grungy collection of objects against a viscerally still nature-scape identifies the band’s interpretation of Midwest emo, something they refer to in their Instagram bio as “Ozark Mountain Emo.”

On the front porch of Grumbine’s residence, the band reflected on the anniversary.

“That thing was made purely on fumes, I think,” said Kamienski, who sat on the porch guardrail. “We were in a very weird spot as a band.” 

Kelly, who was reclined, sat up to explain that he had been looking for a job as a wildland firefighter. Thus, the band recorded the EP quickly so they could drop it and end the band. He said the job did not work out, though, and “thank God it didn’t.”

 The EP has a run time of just 16 minutes and was partly recorded in the restaurant where Grumbine worked. It makes an immediate impression with the song “Camp Steve is a Bust,” which features everything from a Garth Books soundbite to Kamienski’s yearningly strained vocals and arpeggiated guitar solo. The song is a favorite among many fans including Solo Anderson, a drummer for the local hardcore band A.W.E., which Kamienski is also a part of.

“The instrumentation of everything is just really cool,” he said. “The way that they bring in the different melodies and countermelodies and stuff that they do, their songs are just put together where their composition is really cool.” He later added that their work was “technically impressive.”

Anderson is Kamienski’s roommate and began listening to the band once Kamienski sent him the EP.

 When asked about the nature of the band’s local audience, which often has close roots to the band itself, Kamienski said, “You’re never going to beat the experience of literally fighting for your own microphone as people are jumping on top of you, singing your own songs. That’s as cool as it gets.”

Having connections while touring also has its benefits.

“You’re more likely to find a place to crash if you’re not at the house that you’re staying at,” Kelly said. “It’s a tighter-knit community.”

 When the band went on tour with the Wichita-based band Delirium in the summer, Kamienski expected the band to “literally play to nobody,” but “that didn’t happen once.”

 On average, Greenaway estimates a local audience of anywhere from 50 to 100 people, who are often enclosed at house shows. Grumbine refers to the neighborhood where they rehearse, Phelps Grove, as Springfield’s “de facto arts district” due to the number of house shows that occur there.

Springfield’s hardcore scene influences and is influenced by the group, who can often be seen at Lindberg’s Tavern whenever the venue hosts hardcore acts.

A. Sprague, a Springfield musician who books local hardcore groups, said she respects Pomfret. 

“That band’s amazing,” she said. “They do a lot for the scene as well.… Just being a band in Springfield brings people to shows, so it’s super important.”

 She added as a hardcore musician, “If it wasn’t for the other scenes also doing the best that they can and doing the things that they do, then it wouldn’t be as successful.” This is because, according to Sprague, there is a heavy crossover between those who go to Midwest emo and hardcore shows.

The band’s musical influences vary greatly among members. While most of their influences are not Midwest emo, Kamienski said that when the band started, they were “exclusively riffing off Gulfer.”

 Though, Greenaway said with a laugh, “there’s plenty of Chumbawamba in there somewhere.”

 Though the band’s math rock elements of arpeggiated guitar playing and fluctuating time signatures are reminiscent of artists like American Football, Kelly attributes this similarity to his opinion that “American Football influenced all Midwest emo.”

 The band’s witty banter and ironic bumper stickers appear disconnected with lyrics like those in “Camp Steve is a Bust”: “Backed into a corner, my gnashing teeth will fall right out. I offer surrender, out of control, I’d rather drown.”

According to Kamienski, the band is on the precipice of great things. The lead single for their upcoming album, “Sock Mic,” was released on Sept. 25. Pomfret hopes to be able to produce two to three tours next year from the album, whose title is yet to be released.

 Grumbine said the album is much more thematic than their previous EP, with visuals centering around Phelps Grove Neighborhood.

 Though the band jokes frequently about “selling out,” there is a scene in Springfield that is proud to call Pomfret its own, that boasts bumper stickers that leave others scratching their heads. This includes Anderson, who critiqued the upcoming album’s demo for Kamienski.

 “The album is one piece of art,” he said. “It is one big project that they release as a piece of themselves. That’s pretty cool.”