Nothing iffy about him: Iffy bassist Tom Merkl talks about his Dutch boyfriend, the influence of Leif Garrett, and being asked to judge wet T-shirt contests - The Music Issue - Brief Article - Interview

Call it an Almost Famous moment. A few months back, a Savannah, Ga., rock station asked Tom Merkl and his cohorts in the band Iffy to play their soulful hard-edged pop at a, promotional But the station didn't mention the amateur boxing match, the wet T-shirt contest, or me "P.A. that blew up after we played three songs," says Merkl with a wry laugh. In the midst of all the straight testosterone--included among the revelers was a slew of servicemen--the the members of Iffy were asked if they'd like to officially judge that battle of the damply dressed ladies. Merkl had a quick response: uh, no. Luckily, the group was united in that no; his bandmates may be straight, but "they're not cheesy," notes the openly gay Merkl.

There are, after all, other ways of getting attention. And the Minneapolis-based Iffy's way seems to be working. The band--boasting stocky, sad-eyed bassist Merkl along with drummer Peter Anderson, guitarist Kraig Johnson, and his brother, the WB-worthy lead singer Kirk Johnson--morphed from longtime friendships just two years ago and quickly landed a major label deal. With Merkl and Anderson cowriting most of the melodies, Iffy's debut album, Biota Bondo (on Warner-distributed Foodchain), began winning raves last year from the likes of the Los Angeles Times and its hometown Minneapolis Star Tribune, which hailed the recording as 2001's Local Album of the Year. Its first single, "Double Dutch," has since become a thumping hit that got a boost after airing in an episode of Dawson's

Creek in January. Also helping is a tour that's stopped in such diverse spots as Oklahoma City, Los Angeles's notorious Viper Room, and just-peachy Georgia.

Despite the Savannah incident, Merkl, 34, is out--and accustomed to crowds. As he's the youngest of 11 Catholic-raised kids of John, a retired postal worker, and Elaine, a housewife, odds were perhaps better than iffy that one of his brothers would be a serious music collector; "He had thousands of records, so I was exposed to everything," says Merkl.

While the thrift-shopping musician cops to having a crush on teen idol Leif Garrett when he was 12 ("I saw him play at a mail"), later it was Elton John "who really got to me. I wanted to take piano lessons so I could play like him." John may not have had it so easy in his day, but at 16 the otherwise "shy and quiet" Merkl had the chutzpah to tell his family and friends he was gay. "Minneapolis is a fairly liberal city," he says, adding, "My mother was shocked and upset, but she got over it. Now everything's cool."

Super cool, in fact. Merkl and his straight bandmates "are all buddies," though he does admit his fellow Iffies are merely patient when it comes to his passion for Will & Grace and dance club tracks. "When we're on the road," Merkl notes, "everyone in the van is like, `Enough!'" And assertions that homophobia has a deep grip on the music biz don't seem to faze him. "If you're a superstar who hasn't come out, that's a different story," he says. "But if you start out being out, it's not really an issue."

What is an issue for Merkl is his Dutch boyfriend, Richard Roelofsen, a 37-year-old social worker he has been flying to for nearly eight years. (In case you're wondering, "Double Dutch" is about playing jump rope, not their relationship.) It's not so much the constant touring and prospect of pining groupies that loom over their heads; rather, it's U.S. policy that doesn't recognize gay unions in any fashion. So Merkl's planning on marrying the "more outgoing" Roelofsen officially in the Netherlands and even settling there soon. "No big ceremony, just the basic going-down-to-the-registration-office thing," he says. "But we'd probably have a party." Iffy might even perform. But no wet T-shirts.

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