Return of the Everymen
Michael VM and the Everymen to reunite at Goatchella
Michael Venutolo-Mantovani (Michael VM to pretty much everybody) brought energy & enthusiasm to the Hudson music scene around 2011 as co-front man of Sarin McHugh & The Everymen, who soon morphed into simply the Everymen, a popular garage-y indie-rock combo that played over a thousand shows, toured extensively, and released two EP’s, three full-lengths, and tributes to Jonathan Richman and Eric’s Trip.
Before the Everymen, Michael VM had played in the innovative art-rock combo American Watercolor Movement, pow wow!, and the Fucking Sherpas. But a few years after the Everymen called it quits, he and his wife moved to Chapel Hill, NC, looking for a more amenable place to start a family.
Now, the Everymen will be reuniting for Goatchella, the annual festival that welcomes the bio-friendly goats (who eat invasive weeds) to the Historic Jersey City & Harsimus Cemetery, on Friday, June 27. (Goatchella continues on Saturday, June 28 with an all-day music festival.)
2025's The Everymen will feature rhythm guitarist and vocalist Mike VM. Catherine Herrick, long considered the band’s secret weapon, will return as co-lead vocalist. Geoff Morrissey and Ryan Gross, who played lead guitar during the band's initial eight-year run, will be joined by Jake Fiedler (formerly of early-aughts Brooklyn art rockers Ex Models) on drums. And the horn section? That’s “the Zillittones,” Scott and Jamie Zillitto on saxophone and bass, respectively.
We chatted with Mike VM to learn a little more about the reunion and catch up with what he’s been doing.
Q: Let’s start with the obvious. What brought about this reunion? Are there any goals behind getting together and having fun?
It was sometime during the pandemic, a few years after The Everymen played our last show, when I started to think how stupid it was that I wasn’t making music with some of the people I love most in the world; certainly the people I love making music most with. Given the uncertainty and the fear that surrounded so much of that time, there was a lot of introspection, a lot of reorganizing priorities. And I just couldn’t get the idea of playing with them again out of my head, even going so far as what a setlist at our reunion show might look like. I also had recently become a father, which is the ultimate priority-reorganizer. So this mindset of “Why aren’t we playing together” just kept lingering in my head. Of course, I had to shift the way I thought about the band, to consider the fact that The Everymen could exist without playing at least a hundred shows a year. Maybe we could just do a show or three a year and be a band forever.
When we broke up, there was no acrimony. It was all love. It just felt like this thing we did ran its course. On top of that, my wife and I wanted to start a family and being on the road six months out of the year was not my idea of fatherhood. So hanging it up was easy. Getting it back together would be just as easy. It just took some time. Another kid came along for us, my new career was kind of taking off, so a lot of stuff had to take a backseat. But once everything fell into a groove, I texted our still very active group thread and asked about a show. Everyone was enthusiastically down.
There’s also some selfishness, too.
Shortly after our second kid was born, I started playing music with some people down here (I’m based in Chapel Hill now). It was and continues to be great. I love playing with the cats I play with. But as I played in these new bands, alongside these new people, I realized that I’ll never have with those people what I had with Scott, Jamie, Catherine, Ryan, Geoff, Jake, Stephen, and all the other knuckleheads who’ve climbed on stage with The Everymen over the years. Because I’ll probably never spend that many hours alongside people in a band again. There’s a metaphysical connection that comes with playing damn near 1,000 shows with a group of people. It’s hard to explain to people who’ve never experienced it but when you’re on stage, you can exist without communicating. It’s the closest thing I’ve ever felt to a higher power and, man, I guess I just missed being that close to god, whoever that god is.
Q: Catch people up with what you’ve been doing. Where are you based these days? Do you have a band, performing solo, doing musical theater? What would you like to share about your life?
I’m bad with dates but sometime around the release of the third and final Everymen LP, These Mad Dogs Need Heroes (June, 2016 - Ed.), my wife and I moved to Chapel Hill, mostly because we wanted to start a family someplace a little quieter and a whole lot cheaper than New York City. Since then, we’ve gone full domestic, buying a house, having two kids, mowing my lawn on Saturday mornings. Shit, I even drive a Volvo wagon.
These days, I’m playing bass in a great band called The Paranoid Style, where I get to share the stage with Peter Holsapple, a bona fide hero from my teenage years. I also play guitar in a killer group called The All Things. That one is made up of a couple of other New York City expats, with Alec Farrell of The Holy Ghost on guitar and vocals, and Michael Galinsky, who played bass in Sleepyhead.
And yes, I’ve gotten back into acting a bit, something I loved early in my life but completely abandoned when I moved to New York after college (smart move, Mikey). Ever the DIY TILL THE DAY I DIE kinda guy, me and a few pals decided to just start our own troupe rather than audition for plays and musicals.
Otherwise, I’m just working a ton, which these days consists of full-time freelance writing for places like the New York Times, National Geographic, GQ, Wired, The Guardian, and tons of others. I get to do really cool shit like spend a week dogsledding above the Arctic Circle or riding bikes through some of the most desolate corners of the Badlands. It’s the best job I’ve ever had.
I also own and operate a little boutique label called Suah Sounds. It was a fun project that I started with my dad when he retired. Initially, we just focused on the Chapel Hill/Carrboro scenes but we’ve recently started to branch out. Shit, we even released a record from space.
Mostly though, I spend as much time as humanly possible hanging out with my two kids, who are seven and three and absolutely fucking rad
Q: I have several very distinct memories of Everymen shows. I’m curious what stands out in your mind among all the shows and experiences you had with the band.
Hard to say. We were pretty drunk most of the time.
But again, and this may sound like a total cop out, but what I miss most is what I mentioned before: the metaphysical communication that the band developed over the years. I’m so desperate for that feeling. Even the actual communication. I mean, we had our own fucking language that we all spoke (hopefully still speak) fluently. As anyone who’s ever toured around the country in a rock van can understand, the band was able to communicate wholly in a series of grunts, single words, or looks. That’s the shit I miss most.
I certainly don’t miss all of the snoring.
“If I could give anyone a piece of advice, it would be play for you and no one else. Make music that makes you whole. Because that’s the first of a million steps if you want to have any success in this business.” - Mike VM
Q: Is there one song or one performance or one thing about the Everymen that you’d like the band to be remembered for?
If we were remembered for one thing, I hope it was the fact that we threw one of the best goddamned rock-and-roll parties you’d ever been to. I always wanted people to remember the nights we were able to soundtrack for them.
Q: You’ve seen the music industry change radically from when you were a teenager to now, especially in terms of the opportunities for musicians to make a living and the complexities of making a living from your music. What do you feel has been the most significant change and, more important, what advice would you give young musicians today?
Oh man, I mean streaming is the obvious answer, right? It’s changed everything. Back when I was young, a small band could sell a thousand CDs in their sleep. But who wants to talk more about the evils of streaming? I mean, fuck it, right? But it’s not going anywhere.
Your question—specifically the part about making a living—reminds me of something one of my dearest friends, a lifelong musician, and now record industry executive has often said: no one in the arts is owed a living.
You want to be owed a living? There are plenty of union jobs out there to be had that pay great money. Go work on a road crew or learn a trade. There, you’re guaranteed to make a living.
Making art for a living is the exception, not the rule.
The reality is that some people get lucky, some people figure out how to make the system work for them, some people are totally comfortable making music for fun.
If I could give anyone a piece of advice, it would be play for you and no one else. Make music that makes you whole. Because that’s the first of a million steps if you want to have any success in this business. Without that as your foundation, I can almost guarantee you’ll never get anywhere close to living the dream.
Q: Feel free to plug anything else.
Everyone should be watching Side Quest on Apple TV. Four-episode standalone spinoff of Mythic Quest. Genius storytelling. Genius directing. Also, subscribe to my Substack, Being a Dad is Hard as Fuck.
Goatchella will take place at the Historic Jersey City & Harsimus Cemetery on Friday evening, June 27, and all day Saturday, June 28. Ticket packages are available at Eventbrite.