“There was madness in any direction, at any hour. You could strike sparks anywhere.
There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right; that we
were winning…Our energy would simply prevail. We had all the momentum; we were
riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. So now, less than five years later you can
go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look west, and with the right kind of eyes you can
almost see the high water mark—that place where the wave finally broke an rolled
back.” -Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.
The above quote was written well before the ska revival of 1997, but I think it describes it
pretty well. That era was a fleeting one, full of energy and fun and sound; infused with
the spirit of youth and the common motivations of most 17- and 18- year olds. In regards
to the Hunter S. Thompson quote, I know that 1997 was more that five years ago, and
ska doesn’t really have anything to do with standing in Vegas and looking west, but I still
like the simile of gazing back upon the high water mark, because even if it’s not really
visible, many of us can still think back and get just the tiniest flash of memory of the time
and, just for a second, recall what if felt like.
April 1997. You were happy. You had a set of wheels and the car stereo was always
bumpin’. Punk and hip hop CD’s were lined up in your Case Logic CD sleeves, and just
as you started to get bored with them, new bands started serving up fresh infusions of
power pop with horn sections. Of course, you’d listened to Operation Ivy, Skankin’ Pickle
and Voodoo Glow Skulls for some time, but one after another, knockout releases started
coming down the line, overflowing with bar-chord anthems. And your girlfriend liked ‘em
too. In a single year, the heavyweights had established themselves with third generation
landmarks: Less Than Jake’s ‘Losing Streak,’ Buck ‘O Nine’s ’28 Teeth,’ Reel Big Fish’s
huge ‘Turn the Radio Off,’ The Aquabats’ ‘Fury’ & ‘Return.’ The East Coast had even
offered up ‘Let’s Face It’ from the Mighty Mighty Bosstones and a plethora of semi-
anonymous bands on NY’s Moon Ska label. Even bands that lacked horn sections
caught the fever; strong ska-laced albums could be heard from Home Grown, Assorted
Jellybeans, Suicide Machines, Rancid, Sublime, Goldfinger, and many others. Less
known bands such as Jeffries Fan Club, The Hippos, Mustard Plug, The Mad Caddies
and Citizen Fish brought some bright tunes to the table.
The ska scene blossomed, and like the desert century plant, expelled its life energy in
tremendous eruption that would eventually kill it. Live shows, previously frequented by
either open minded punks or fresh-faced young ska lovers, became spotted with
meathead jocks with taco’d baseball cap brims and other unfortunates, such as hip
scenesters, bubblegum chewing junior high school aged girls, or confused young alterna-
kids, still stinging from the death of Kurt Cobain. Before I drift too far into the realm of
‘music elitist asshole’ here, I’ll readily admit that the music was there for anyone to hear,
and by all means was it just fine that these people started listening to ska tunes—but the
real enemy mounted as the mainstream noticed that ska sold well to a wide range of
kids. Before long, you couldn’t turn on a television without hearing ska in the
background of commercials for products like Capri Sun and Sketchers footwear.
Forgettable after school cartoon programs featured ska-heavy intros, and radio
commercials for grocery stores, suntan lotion, and auto insurance companies used
bleached-out third wave rhythms as background music.
After a while, even the most core of us were sick of the same common chord
progressions and soulless pop that had become forcibly associated with ska. It had
simply been gutted (interestingly, this kind of thing finally happened to melodic and pop
punk music around 2003-04, but you have to hand it to that genre of punk for
maintaining such a high level of quality for over a decade). Of course, a ska
underground maintained itself, and still has over the years. There are currently even a
few newer ska bands that hold tightly to the dimmed torch. The third wave era, however,
is long dead.
You go, rudeboy!
There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right; that we
were winning…Our energy would simply prevail. We had all the momentum; we were
riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. So now, less than five years later you can
go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look west, and with the right kind of eyes you can
almost see the high water mark—that place where the wave finally broke an rolled
back.” -Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.
The above quote was written well before the ska revival of 1997, but I think it describes it
pretty well. That era was a fleeting one, full of energy and fun and sound; infused with
the spirit of youth and the common motivations of most 17- and 18- year olds. In regards
to the Hunter S. Thompson quote, I know that 1997 was more that five years ago, and
ska doesn’t really have anything to do with standing in Vegas and looking west, but I still
like the simile of gazing back upon the high water mark, because even if it’s not really
visible, many of us can still think back and get just the tiniest flash of memory of the time
and, just for a second, recall what if felt like.
April 1997. You were happy. You had a set of wheels and the car stereo was always
bumpin’. Punk and hip hop CD’s were lined up in your Case Logic CD sleeves, and just
as you started to get bored with them, new bands started serving up fresh infusions of
power pop with horn sections. Of course, you’d listened to Operation Ivy, Skankin’ Pickle
and Voodoo Glow Skulls for some time, but one after another, knockout releases started
coming down the line, overflowing with bar-chord anthems. And your girlfriend liked ‘em
too. In a single year, the heavyweights had established themselves with third generation
landmarks: Less Than Jake’s ‘Losing Streak,’ Buck ‘O Nine’s ’28 Teeth,’ Reel Big Fish’s
huge ‘Turn the Radio Off,’ The Aquabats’ ‘Fury’ & ‘Return.’ The East Coast had even
offered up ‘Let’s Face It’ from the Mighty Mighty Bosstones and a plethora of semi-
anonymous bands on NY’s Moon Ska label. Even bands that lacked horn sections
caught the fever; strong ska-laced albums could be heard from Home Grown, Assorted
Jellybeans, Suicide Machines, Rancid, Sublime, Goldfinger, and many others. Less
known bands such as Jeffries Fan Club, The Hippos, Mustard Plug, The Mad Caddies
and Citizen Fish brought some bright tunes to the table.
The ska scene blossomed, and like the desert century plant, expelled its life energy in
tremendous eruption that would eventually kill it. Live shows, previously frequented by
either open minded punks or fresh-faced young ska lovers, became spotted with
meathead jocks with taco’d baseball cap brims and other unfortunates, such as hip
scenesters, bubblegum chewing junior high school aged girls, or confused young alterna-
kids, still stinging from the death of Kurt Cobain. Before I drift too far into the realm of
‘music elitist asshole’ here, I’ll readily admit that the music was there for anyone to hear,
and by all means was it just fine that these people started listening to ska tunes—but the
real enemy mounted as the mainstream noticed that ska sold well to a wide range of
kids. Before long, you couldn’t turn on a television without hearing ska in the
background of commercials for products like Capri Sun and Sketchers footwear.
Forgettable after school cartoon programs featured ska-heavy intros, and radio
commercials for grocery stores, suntan lotion, and auto insurance companies used
bleached-out third wave rhythms as background music.
After a while, even the most core of us were sick of the same common chord
progressions and soulless pop that had become forcibly associated with ska. It had
simply been gutted (interestingly, this kind of thing finally happened to melodic and pop
punk music around 2003-04, but you have to hand it to that genre of punk for
maintaining such a high level of quality for over a decade). Of course, a ska
underground maintained itself, and still has over the years. There are currently even a
few newer ska bands that hold tightly to the dimmed torch. The third wave era, however,
is long dead.
You go, rudeboy!
| The great Operation Ivy. Forefathers of the 3rd Wave |
| Less Than Jake. Still bringing the quality after all these years. |
| Reel Big Fish came on strong with their first album and experienced some well deserved success. Pete would sometimes get mistaken for the lead singer Aaron. |
The Furious 7 (sometimes 8)
Tell your Mom, tell your Dad!
| 1997: YEAR OF THE THIRD WAVE |
I was going to include one picture of the Aquabats, but there are just too many dynamite images of them!
No one beats the men from The Octagon when it comes to stylish aesthetics!
No one beats the men from The Octagon when it comes to stylish aesthetics!
| The Bat Commander |
| Fantastic! |
| Codename: Applesauce. |
| Super Rad! |
Where's Professor?
| The Homies! |
| Supervillians Beware! |
| Chainsaw! |
The Skanadia All Stars
| This is one of the only vintage photos of Skanadia. From left to right, the horn section consisted of Dave, Charlie, and Tony. Jason played guitar, Radams (Ryan Adams) played drums, Phil handled vocals until he got booted from the band. I can be seen sitting on the stage. Most of the time I would just get drunk, dance, and sing a few songs. Jeff Owens played bass. Later, Ryan's friend Greg helped out with trombone duties and a guitarist named Matt also helped out. |
| During the ascent of the third wave, we found it pretty easy to get shows. Jason would call The Nile in Mesa and get Skanadia booked as an opening band at countless shows. We played at all the normal Arizona spots, including a show at the Mason Jar in which we had a crowd waiting outside and the employees of the venue didn't bother to show up until an hour later. Radams and I sung at that performance, because I didn't have anything else to do and he had a broken arm. That night, Jeff Owens played bass wearing a dress. The members of the band ended up moving around to different spots, but we'd often get back together for shows. Once, we played some sort of festival at Desert Mountain high school, where most of the band (but not me) had graduated. Martine showed up and the two of us got wasted before the show in the back of my parent's Suburban. Needless to say, I really fucked up a lot of songs that night. A couple of years later, we were supposed to play the same festival, opening for The Aquabats, and somehow got deleted from the bill. We ended up playing at arcade that night instead, but we still had a good time. MoreMore to come... |
