Reader, I have here a handy litmus test for you: Apache Chief - a quartet from Tacoma School of the Arts who refer to their style of music as "alternative buttrock" - is readying the release of their debut LP. It is called Trail of Beers. Its lead track is called "Witch Hammer" and its closing number is "Bongtrek."

In or out?

When I was arranging a time to do a phoner with Miles VanMatre, guitarist for Apache Chief, I was informed that the band prefers to be interviewed all at once, in person, on their turf. My boss, Matt Driscoll, had experienced this almost exactly a year ago. As I entered VanMatre's father's house (which doubles as the Apache Chief practice space), I immediately saw why this is their preference.

Apache Chief is made up of four high school seniors - young guys who like to joke around and talk shit - and with every Chief that is present in the room, their power grows stronger. Bassist Ruben Aleman sits down on and permanently breaks a chair that was already half-broken, and remains seated on the floor.

And I'm sold.

For having such a short existence, Apache Chief have been hard at work creating a storied history. Formed in 2009 with a saxophone-player subbing on shit-drums, Apache Chief burst through the gates with an intriguing combination of "fuck it" attitude and steadfast musical integrity. I think, for them, those two stances are more or less inseparable.

Case in point: Sitting in VanMatre's bedroom, I sampled the first three or four songs off of Trail of Beers on cassette. It's an album literally made for the cassette, I'm told. Though the band is making CDs available, they urge listeners to opt for analog. It sounds better that way, they say, while simultaneously joking about how all of their songs sound blown out and insane no matter what format is delivering them.

The early sounds of Apache Chief were complete chaos and, though time has honed them slightly, there is still a defiant edge at work on Trail of Beers. After all, Apache Chief have modeled themselves after some of the most uncompromising entities in punk rock (the Misfits, Black Flag, Melvins, etc.). Their songs are distorted, lurching anthems for people who are as inspired by the bargain-brand Dr. Pepper knock-off, Dr. Thunder, as they are about getting fucked up and hitting the streets on a Friday night.

If we were to look at the progression of SOTA as a breeding ground for musical talent, we might regard Apache Chief as being firmly in the forefront of second-generation SOTA punk-rockers. Bands like Durango 95 laid a sturdy groundwork for dirty art school punk rock, and now bands like Red Hex and Apache Chief are pushing even further - embracing sloppy, lower-than-lo-fi tones and towering, caustic riffs. Even when Apache Chief's songs are racing, it always feels like the fuzz'll get you before the instruments do. The layer of scuzz on Trail of Beers is thick enough to stand on.

Last year, Apache Chief were a bold entry in EMP's annual battle of the underage bands, Sound Off!, where indie-leaning and gimmicky bands are typically favored. (Can anyone explain Dyno Jamz to me?) Naturally, Apache Chief and their bone-rattling punk didn't make it past the first round, but their performance made an impact on all the right people.

"Our band was the only one that people could dance to," VanMatre proudly says. "They got mad at us because the crowd almost broke their camera while they were dancing. It was on a tripod in the middle of the audience."

Drummer Jake Hupp gets a call from his mom. She's in Long Beach, Calif. Apache Chief talk about whether or not they could stand to live in California. "It's a desert; you're not supposed to live in the desert," Hupp says. Argument ensues.

It's raining outside of VanMatre's window. I'd like to think Apache Chief couldn't have come from anywhere else.

EDITOR'S NOTE: The original version of this story indicated the show was on Friday. It's actually on Saturday. Sorry. We were on a Bongtrek.

Apache Chief

with Night Beats, The Drug Purse, Red Hex,
Saturday, Jan. 29 7 p.m., $3
Peabody Waldorf Gallery, 745 S. Broadway, Tacoma