This past February, I found myself at On the Rocks Bar & Grill in nearby Madison Heights to commiserate with Trevor Naud, member of the Detroit band Zoos of Berlin. The bar was chosen for its ambience—they have sumptuous brown leather booths, a growing rarity around here as older bars vanish or inevitably devolve into brightly lit Apple Store-esque echo chambers hawking shitty brews with cloyingly ribald names. They also have, to my great surprise, dollar chicken wings—another affordable rara auis sorely missed by a frugal fatman such as myself.

So, ensconced in the ancient leathers of the past, me with my wings and he with a quesadilla, we rambled over the nearly 20-year history of Zoos of Berlin, a singular group in the recent life of Detroit music. They are a band, at least to my chicken-fat-clogged mind, that occupies an interesting position both firmly outside the prevailing trends and surprisingly central to a lot of what was musically important in Detroit over the past few decades.