Evil Empire
Earl Root has turned 'immaturity' into metallic monopoly

By MATT PEIKEN
St. Paul Pioneer Press; September 26, 1999 ©

You probably don't know Earl Root unless you also know his music, the extreme and obscure side of hard-and-heavy. ``The Root of All Evil,'' Root's Sunday radio show, is a cavalcade of cacophony, and at 13 years, it's one of the longest-running programs on KFAI-FM.

Root pulls the music from the cramped shelves of his Root Cellar Records, a Snelling Avenue staple that grew from a seat-of-the-pants operation.

Root's show and shop are popular with a small, fiercely loyal audience of oddball collectors, aging metalheads and party animals. Root has expanded ``The Root of All Evil'' to cable television and the Internet, and he recently christened the Root of All Evil recording label to produce and release music from unheralded slash-and-burn bands.

At 37, the former hard-luck guitarist and self-described ``drunken fool'' has unwittingly come to rule a tiny kingdom nobody else in the Twin Cities seems to want.

``Only in America can a big, dumb guy like me turn immaturity into a business,'' says Root, who stands 6 feet 2 inches, has soft, rounded features, muttonchops and long brown hair that he often ties into a ponytail.

``I don't know if I'd call myself successful,'' he says. ``But when I think about the direction I could have gone, which is nowhere, then yeah, I guess this is some kind of success.''

At 1 a.m. every Sunday, KFAI's drum-and-bass show gives way to the metallic crunch and menacing audio clips that introduce another installment of ``The Root of All Evil.'' Root slaps on some headphones and turns on his microphone.

``Howdy, kids! It's time for another five slammin' hours of nothing but metal, metal, metal,'' Root growls with a smile. ``And it all doesn't end until 6, 6, 6 a.m.''

This morning's show opens on the relatively mild side - Judas Priest's ``Deliverin' the Goods'' - as Root sifts through a milk crate of CDs he gathered from his store on the way to the station. He plays Burn the Priest, Porn to Rock and Atomic Bitchwax, and soon shifts into fifth gear - Sodom, Napalm Death, a double-shot of Necropolis and ``Maximum Violence,'' a tune by Six Feet Under.

By 1:40 a.m., requests trickle in by phone.

``They're just getting home from the bars,'' Root says before taking a call. ``The beer hasn't completely killed them off.''

Beer didn't completely kill off Root, who spent many of his under-30 years living the heavy-metal cliche.

He went to Edina West High School, hung out with other stoners and cruised around in his '69 Dodge Charger. He left home at 16 and later went to Florida and then to Virginia, working tobacco fields and scallop boats and playing in bar bands.

Short on cash and longing for home, he moved back to Minneapolis at 20 and made inroads at KFAI, first by relentlessly requesting metal music during a couple of the station's more experimental rock shows. Soon, station directors offered Root his own slot - an hour every other weekend, alternating with a bluegrass show.

``I didn't want to do it. It was a major commitment. Plus, it was a major party night,'' he says. ``But I figured I would just move the party into the studio.''

By then, Root was in his mid-20s and had built up a collection of more than 10,000 albums. He found many at garage sales and the Salvation Army - still popular haunts of his. Countless more came from friends who repaid loans with vinyl. Root wrestled with a name for his show. His mom suggested ``Rooty Toot Toot.''

``I said, `Mom, I'm not doing Candyland here,' and she said, `Oh, you're going to play all that evil stuff you listen to,''' Root recalls. ``I thought, `Hey, that's it.' ''

He soon chased bluegrass out of the time slot and expanded to five hours. It was an ego boost, but Root had an ulterior motive for the show: Ignite and promote a local metal scene to better expose and promote his band, Disturbed. Years later, he saw ``The Root of All Evil'' as a free commercial for his record store.

Root didn't pattern his show after Howard Stern's, but there were obvious similarities. He routinely brought a gaggle of goofballs into the studio - friends with on-air personas, such as Original Cyn, Captain Caffeine and the Colon Doctor. He also invited bands into the studio for live interviews and performances. These episodes can grow pretty raucous, but Root draws the line at race-based skinhead music, and he once kicked a Polish band out of the studio for criticizing America.

``I agreed with what they were saying to a certain extent,'' Root says. ``But I can say it because I'm an American.''

Root is deliberate about the style of metal he airs in a given hour - old-school metal opens the show, bleeding into new releases for the second hour, with full-on grind, thrash and death filling the air from 3 to 4. Root then delves into the ``strange and bizarre'' and what he calls ``ambient space music'' before closing the show with a nod to guitar virtuosos. Once a year, Root detours from metal to host a Frank Zappa marathon.

``Nothing's set in stone, but dude, I have my standards,'' he says. ``There's no way I'm playing Cannibal Corpse at 5:30 a.m.''

Root's show has mirrored a comeback of sorts for heavy rock. Metallica, Megadeth, Pantera and now KoRn and Limp Bizkit are platinum-selling bands that battle Britney Spears and the Backstreet Boys for the top of the charts.

Ozzfest, a heavy-metal spectacle on wheels, and KoRn's ``Family Values'' habitually rank among the nation's top-grossing tours. That wave is creating a wake of airplay, sales and credibility for more obscure metal.

KFAI directors always have cared more about the show's on-air language than any objectionable musical content. They warned Root to cool it more than once, particularly in the show's earlier years, but never suspended him. Back then, Root had other things to worry about.

Just after his 30th birthday, his band broke up, his parents moved to Arizona and his longtime girlfriend, Nancy, left him. He felt abandoned. He thought about running his motorcycle at full tilt into a brick wall, but didn't want to ruin the bike.

Earl and Nancy met and bonded over a mutual appreciation for heavy rock and a shared background as adopted children. Earl had always been a father to Nancy's now-teen-aged son, Aaron, and he credits Nancy's return several months later for rejuvenating his commitment to family. Root stopped drinking. Among other benefits, he figured he could set aside the hundreds of dollars he dropped at bars each month to buy a new Triumph Hurricane motorcycle. He never bought that bike, but Nancy and Earl married New Years' Day 1998.

Today, Nancy calls her husband ``an extraordinary man'' who is caring, creative and much broader in his interests than people might glean from his public persona.

``I know there was a lot of anger and frustration about him not being in a big band,'' Nancy says. ``That's really where his heart was at, and it really took a long time for him to get over the fact that he wasn't going to fulfill that dream.''

Root began selling records, with permission, from the parking lot of a stereo store. On his first day, he did more than $800 in business. Later, he expanded to the store's basement and soon outgrew that.

Root's dad loaned him $7,000 to open his own store, at 636 N. Snelling Ave., mainly to see if his son was capable of turning it, and himself, into a success. Music fans found a unique environment at Root Cellar Records. Aside from the deep collection of metal, Root has a thick stock of vinyl in all genres and shelves lined with live import and bootleg discs and videos.

He's taking over the neighboring shop in early October, when he will move his entire metal collection to the new Root Cellar's Dungeon. Root has taken his business online, through his own Web site and eBay, where he sells more than $1,500 worth of hard-to-find music each month.

Root ties his business's growth, in large part, to his radio show. KFAI is nonprofit and community-owned, and Root, like all the program hosts, isn't paid. Overall ratings are scant when compared to commercial competitors, and it's difficult to know how many people tune into ``The Root of All Evil'' on a given weekend. Despite the time slot, the show carries its weight at pledge-drive time. Many donors contribute $6.66. All donors receive something from Root's junk drawer at home.

Station directors say the show represents a depth of diversity - beyond race, ethnicity and religion - that KFAI wants to achieve with its programming.

``With Earl, it's much more vibrant and alive than just a really cool radio show. He's trying to be a crossroads for what's going on culturally and artistically in that niche,'' says Mike Wassenaar, KFAI's program director. ``He's got sort of this mad circus whirling around him all the time, but I'd love to have more people like Earl - people who are really creative and cutting edge.''

A few weeks ago, members of the local band Pantagoria dropped by the studio with a couple of female fans. Within minutes, they'd stripped off their clothing and started dancing in the window. A few listeners hightailed it to the parking lot behind KFAI's third-story studio for a peek.

``I almost have an obligation to do this show, now more than ever,'' Root says. ``Extreme metal is making a push in the eyes of fans, and there's a real want and need for this. 93X has its metal show, but they won't touch Cradle of Filth with a 10-foot pole. It's my job to shove that pole as far as it will go.''