Testosterone Kills Makes Me Horny

Pablo Ratliff and Timothy Daly of Testosterone Kills talk about real life

by Blase DiStefano

These two gay guys formed their band Testosterone Kills in 1998 and apparently became lovers at the same time. Their music and lyrics are out and proud, and thought-provoking to boot. Though Houston is not one of the lucky cities in which the cute couple will perform, you can hear their music on their recent CD War All the Time (Fortified Records). OutSmart talked separately to the dynamic duo shortly before their tour began.

OutSmart: Hi, Pablo, how are you?

Pablo: Hey, Blase. Truly above average today. The endless winter that New York City has seen is beginning to lift. Spring is in the air, and my eyes are itching and it’s beautiful.

OK, I’ve got a photo in front of me [above photo with both guys in their New York apartment].

I’m the spiky-haired, less-cute one.

You know that’s all a matter of opinion.

That’s what they keep telling me. I put it out there, and I hope I get the results. You did well.

Thanks. First of all, I have to say that I absolutely loved your CD.

Thank you.

Where and how and why the name Testosterone Kills? That’s so great.

Yeah. Well, you can take that on many levels. On one hand, it’s an assertion. I guess the story behind that is that it was actually about four years ago, and it was a thing we were walking around saying, like a smart-ass little quip we had whenever we saw two frat guys about to fight because they were too drunk or when we would see Jerry Falwell on TV, [we would say] “Testosterone kills.” • Specifically, we were traveling across the country and we were staying in Glacier Park [in Montana], working there as part of the staff, and we had a specific event where because of our orientations, we had death threats.

You’re kidding.

It was a fun little death-threat moment. And it scared us. I think that that’s when we really started to understand that the kind of things we were joking about were actually very real. And we got our asses out of there and lived to tell about it. That was also the same week, unbeknownst to us, that the Matthew Shepard thing happened. That was a big moment when everything gelled and we started addressing those issues in our music, because it was such a startling series of events for us.

When I listened to the CD, it reminded me … do you know the Tom Robinson Band?

I don’t.

When I went to the first march on Washington, the Tom Robinson Band was there. Though their sound is different, their music has the same emotional feel as yours. It was good music, and it was out and revolutionary. And I hadn’t heard anything like that since then, until the two of you came along. That’s who I thought of when I listened to your CD.

That was something that meant something to you at the time. Or maybe continues to.

Yeah, it actually does. The kind of music that you’ve done, it speaks a lot to me. How would you describe your music?

We use the term electro-folk. We say that it’s like trying to shove the Indigo Girls in the same room with a techno DJ. I think we live in a time where nobody says they listen to one kind of music—“I just listen to folk” or “I just listen to techno.” • We’re part of a collective of musicians in New York City that are known as the antifolk scene, or the antifolk community, which actually was idealistically founded by Lach, who runs a club called the Fort at Sidewalk Café. And it’s a place that we felt deeply influenced by and a place where we feel very safe to express the kind of things that we do. Now we’re taking it on the road, and we’re not feeling so safe anymore. But we’re ready.

Yeah, I wondered about that. So have you been on the road yet?

We’re in the starting gates. We’re going to be all over the place. We’ve got shows booked up in both Philadelphia and Boston, so we’re beginning that route. The album just came out nationally. We’re always in stores, and we intend to be out there supporting it as our means allow us to.

Excellent. So are the two of you boyfriends?

Yes. Five years.

Oh, how neat. How old are you?

Oh, well, let’s say…

Oh my God, you’re one of those—you don’t want to tell your age, yet you’re so young?

Yes, there’s a couple of things, that’s one of them. We were advised…

OK, whatever. What I loved in the press info was the fun quote from New York Magazine: “Testosterone Kills is what Simon and Garfunkel might have been if they had f--ked each other and grew up on Nirvana and techno.”

That pretty much sums it up.

When did you come out?

I was maybe 20 or 21. I was living in San Diego, California. It was a heavy time for me. That was the same time my mother died and a friend of mine had been killed, and it was just one of those kinds of life situations where all the bulls--t goes out the window, and you have to look at yourself and decide what you want or what’s true.

Who was the first person you told?

Good question. I honestly don’t remember, and I’ll tell you why. Because for me it was a process that happened very quickly. I mean, in a week I wrote all my letters and I told everybody around. I’m sure that anybody reading this who has been in this situation will understand the deep level of denial that you can be in. And when it came to the surface, there wasn’t any need to negotiate with myself. I just really got on with it. So I wrote all the letters, and I anticipated a large fallout. I decided that I would just kind of hang out and see who was there when the dust cleared, and that was it. Fortunately, pretty much everybody was still there.

Very nice. So since I’m not going to know when you were born, can I know where you were born?

Yes, I was born in South Jersey. But I didn’t live there long enough to be considered a whatever you consider a Jerseyan. I was taken to San Diego, and I consider myself an original San Diegan.

Did you go to school in San Diego a long time?

Yes. The whole time, no. I went to school in the Mojave Desert as well. And that informed a lot of my story as to why perhaps I only got around to coming out when I was 20, rather than 15 or 16 like a lot of the kids are doing now. • Actually, it was a little bit of a different time. It was before Clinton in the Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell era, when regardless of how you feel about how he fell through on that, I think he raised the issue to the point that it really became something that was in people’s consciousness and couldn’t any longer be denied. I think that was an important step. Even if he f--ked up in the end. • I’m happy that he did that. Because I remember day after day after day of it being on the front page, like debating our worth, and I think that was an important part of what happened to me and probably the collective consciousness of this country.

Pablo, I appreciate your time. Did you have anything you wanted to add before I talk to Timothy?

No. I’m just thrilled that Texas, of all places, is responding.

I don’t know about other Texans, but…

There are newspapers in Dallas, Houston, and Austin as well … they all seem to be responding, and I’m so interested in why that is.

I guess Texas is what people think of it, but there are those of us here who don’t really feel the same as most Texans.

As there is in any place. We’re looking forward to hopefully getting out there at some point.

That would be great.

We’ll keep you in the loop, and we really appreciate your response and your encouraging words.

You’re the guys that made that great CD. Thank you. Can I talk to Timothy?

Yes, here you go.

Timothy Daly: Hi there.

OutSmart: Hi, Timothy. Do you prefer Timothy or Tim?

Tim is fine.

Pablo wasn’t willing to say when he was born. Are you?

I’ve been informed not to talk about that.

But he would tell me where.

I was born and raised in Connecticut. Specifically, New Haven.

How was it there, and how long were you there?

I was there until I went to college. I haven’t lived there since then, except maybe the summer between years. It’s a very interesting place. It’s very pretty, and New Haven is very polar. There isn’t much of a middle-class, although I was part of that small middle-class. It’s very poverty-stricken as well as very rich. • Growing up or being influenced by Yale students is very interesting, because they’re all very intelligent. There was always sort of a gay presence in New Haven.

Were you open at any time while you were there?

I came out early, according to all my friends. About 15. It was a crucial time in my life when my parents were getting a divorce, and I was dealing with that and dealing with who I was as an individual separated from his family. I didn’t deny it as much as I didn’t want to talk about it. Eventually, it was eating me up. You know, right around puberty. It became like F--k everybody who doesn’t want to deal with it, because I can’t lie about it or hide it anymore.

Were there any repercussions?

There were. I went to an all-boys Catholic school. It was actually amazing, because my class, a very small class, for four years always picked on me because I didn’t fit in with anybody. I was smart, but I wasn’t a nerd, and I was friends with the jocks, but I didn’t play any sports. I liked music and I was really good at it, and I was doing theater, that sort of thing. Everyone called me a faggot, but they didn’t know that’s what they were trying to say … until I came out, and then everyone felt bad actually, especially in my class. At this point I’m a senior when everybody knew. But they were embarrassed, like We’re sorry that we said those things to you, we didn’t know.

Because they liked you.

Because they liked me. I mean they were just picking on me like kids do. But the underclassmen obviously had issues with it, and I got a lot of flack from them. But I became very popular. It was really weird, because I had never been popular. Everybody knew my name, and it’s funny, because when I go home, everybody knows who I am.

That’s really amazing. It sounds like you’re proud to be openly gay.

It’s really not an easy task. I have a lot of self-deprecating thoughts, and my ideals are like I’m still supposed to have a house and Saab and a wife and kids. It’s like it’s been burned in my brain. It’s a struggle. Living in New York, I’m sort of sheltered, but when I step outside of New York, I always feel like Oh, I don’t fit in with the world.

Yeah, I work at a gay magazine, so I’m sort of that way. All my friends are gay or gay-friendly, so when I step out of that situation, it’s disconcerting.

Isn’t it weird? I forget sometimes that I’m gay and that’s an issue for most of the world … till I leave New York, and then all of a sudden it’s in my face.

I know our time is up, but I just want to say thanks again for your “real” music.

That’s what’s important to us, to tell you the truth.

Yeah, and it’s obvious, too. And one more question: Who came up with the lyric, “I like ’N Sync because they make me horny”?

Oh, that would be Pablo. I go to the honest, existential place. He goes to the in-your-face gay boy.

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