Addressing the Heart
By Melissa Kucirek

Cool and collected, sounding wise beyond his years, Ben Lauren effortlessly talks about the groundwork for No Address, a five-piece band for which he sings and composes lyrics.

It’s midday for him, hours after a show at The Music Farm, a whimsical Charlestown trendy spot. While the cell phone connection phases in and out, Lauren’s words and goals stream through clearly and well defined.

He’s joined in this effort by fellow southerners Phil Moreton (guitar, vocals), Justin Long (guitar), Randy Lane (drums) and Bill Donaldson (bass).

"When you're trying to be taken seriously, having songs with clout is by far the most important thing," the engaging poet says. "Worry about being an artist first, not about your haircut or your wardrobe. What you do is write songs to reach people."

Relatively ripe in the scheme of signing with Atlantic Records, No Address was brought aboard just a year and half into the Tallahassee, Fla.-based band’s existence. The group has since kept an East Coast itinerary as it awaits its April 2005 release, Time Doesn’t Notice.

Having initially resisted Time's first single, "When I'm Gone (Sadie)," after playing it over and over, Lauren insists fans will never see the same show twice.

"I'm not a jukebox," he says. "I'm addicted to the feeling that things could fall apart at any time. It's a spontaneous overflow of emotion. Everything gets really crazy and comes back. I'm damn funny or damn cranky.

"I'm a very emotional singer on stage. It's too hard, it kinda hurts. It's painful spiritually to get to that place you were when you wrote the song. I don't want to put myself back there sometimes."

What Lauren is, really, is a natural. At a time when most kids despise writing and expressing emotion, the young Lauren excelled at poetry.

"When I was a kid, they tried to make me take learning disability classes because I refused to read and write," he says, in a slight southern flare. "My mom threw a fit. And I remember they put me in these classes for like a semester or something. When I came out I was reading at a fourth grade level, and writing at a fifth grade level. The first thing that I wrote was a poem about a lion. I still have it."

"It's almost like I was made like that."

Excuse the cliché, but for as many points on a compass, there are equally as many descriptions of No Addresses' sound. Partially Maroon 5 in its eclectic funk-meets-rockabilly, jumbled with hip-hop and throw in Rob from Matchbox 20, crank up the guitar amps to eleven, and you're somewhere on the same street.

Getting there.

Dig deep and get an emotional burst that is expected to come nothing short of non-stop radio play and live showmanship. It could quite possibly be the second coming of Jim Morrison himself out front, with Lauren’s confidence and lyrical tapestries paving the way for rock’s wicked spin.

Deep-voiced Lauren attests to such grand creative forces, saying poetry and music are the only forms of art that bring him to tears.

"Poetry has always been my best friend," he admits.

One of his first music memories involved, of all things, Michael Jackson and his Thriller album. "I was about five years old, my family was vacationing at Daytona Beach," the natural storyteller continued. "A car goes blasting by with the music blaring, I followed that car over two miles dancing down the road."

A self-taught guitar player, he got his first guitar on a whim.

"My dad said, 'For your 16th birthday, I'd like to buy you a car,'" Lauren recalls in his charming voice. "He had $600, so it was going to be a beater. I told him, 'Dad, to be totally honest with you, I'd really rather have a guitar.' He bought me an acoustic guitar. I still use it to write songs."

The constant need for expressiveness through words is matched with his incessant need for freedom, hence No Address' reference to "neither here nor there." It's this motto, Lauren insists, that has guided them to where they currently sit-on the cusp of something great. Grandiose things to think about, but it's still a group of five guys out to make music and move people.

"I don't think any of us sounded good until after that show," Lauren says of the band's first gig. "The more that I go on in this, the more stage fright that I get. If you don't get stage fright, I'm not sure who said it, 'you're not risking enough.'" It's the advice he gives to bands anywhere.

"People respect you if you can be who you are," he says. "A lot of people you meet put on an act. I think the most inspiring artists are just themselves. My advice is to write a lot of songs and when you think you have written enough, write more."