I learned some valuable lessons in school, but they weren't all in class. By senior year in high school I'd become an insane person, although I still made good grades and all and I didn't ever get into trouble. That was only because I didn't get caught, but still I never got hit with anything more than having to stay after class a time or two.
I was in the Key Club junior and senior year, and right before graduation we spent a weekend in Mobile, Alabama for the annual convention. A couple of friends and I put together a band for the talent competition. The show itself, and the whole weekend in fact were some of the wildest times in my entire life, and two extremely important things happened. Our band played in front of a huge crowd, so any stage fright I may have potentially had was completely cured forever on my first big gig, and I learned the concept of bullshit. The stage fright thing was nice but the bs thing was a tough lesson to learn. At least it only took once.
The band was my friend Billy Steiner and Alan Hunter, who went on to be a charter veejay on MTV. We got together and actually wrote some songs. My very first real band played all-original music. I've always gotten a kick out of that. One song was called "Chewing Gum," so we named the band "The Bazooka Boogies." I thought it was a great name and it really fit the deal. We were about to finish school and go our separate ways and it was a one-shot thing anyway. We worked hard to make it sound good, but we wanted the entertainment factor to be high too. We put these crazy outfits together with a bit of tailoring help from our moms. I had a canary yellow polyester shirt with 10" collars. I also had black poly pants with massive bell-bottoms, a huge green tuxedo sash and white patent leather boots (that's correct) that we wore for a short time in the marching band. It was beyond Disco.
We had the tunes down. We did three songs I think for the talent program. We had a couple of bouncy, Rock/Funk things and the chewing gum song in 6/8, which is like a Blues Waltz. That song was basically just a chorus and a bridge but it was no problem. I still remember the lyrics, which got a little dark (but funny) in the bridge, but I'm already rambling so I won't go into it. We had some dramatic stops and things like that. For kids who hadn't played much in bands it was surprisingly polished and crowd-ready. We were fired up.
The show was Sarturday night so we had Friday night to set up and have a dress rehearsal. It was a statewide convention and I don't know how many schools were represented but it was a lot. Most of them sent an entry into the Key Club Sweetheart pageant, and at least half put something together for the talent show. That night was a bit like a movie. Everyone was milling about on the huge stage in the auditorium. We were all in our little groups; going through our routines. We were the only band, and just seeing a drum kit set up was exciting for some people. I know it was for me, and it was my kit. We talked to most of the other people. They were asking us all about our "band," which technically didn't exist. It was great.
Then things got a bit serious. Four guys in coats and ties walked up and politely but rather stiffly introduced themselves. They were a barbershop quarted. I suppose we all stifled a snicker...I can't remember, but a barbershop quartet? Back then it was super-dorky. They walked away and then we got the poop on them. They were connected to the founder's grandfather's uncle or some shit like that, so they'd won the previous three years and apparently were a shoe-in to win this year too. I shrugged that off, since I figured that there hadn't been any Bazooka Boogies the past three years for them to go up against, and it was just a question of how hard and how far we'd knock them out of the winner's circle. However, as I said, I learned a lesson that night.
It was time for a run-through and we took turns going through our things. There were all kinds of different routines and everybody clapped and cheered for each other. When the four guys did their thing it was really more polite, and somehow "required" applause. I mean, come on...a barbershop quartet? It was dry. We played last, and when we finished everyone went nuts. Everyone but the guys in coats and ties. All the other kids were slapping us on the back and laughing and having a big time, but the four guys in the suits went off into a corner to talk amongst themselves. They weren't amused. It was classic.
It was held at their school so they were on their turf. I remember it was weird...people were talking in oddly-quiet tones about how it was rigged and they were going to win no matter what and things like that like it was just a given. I wish I could remember how the four guys were tied in with the school or whatever it was, but I didn't pay much attention back then. I didn't think nepotism or anything like that could play a part.
We didn't set out to go down there and kick everybody's ass or anything like that, but it was obvious after the rehearsal that we had the most energy going. Everybody else loved it and they didn't have a problem with us. We didn't cop an attitude or anything. We just wanted to have fun, and hopefully have it sound good. They had four-part harmony but we had a three-piece Rock & Roll band, and most of the audience was kids. Come on...rock band, or...barbershop quartet? They were going to win? I laughed at the notion. Boy, was I naive.
I remember feeling bad for them. This wasn't going to be their year. They were coming into it thinking they'd already won ahead of time, but we were going to mop the floor with them. Music should never be a contest, only that's what it said on the sign. What were we supposed to do...hold back? Oh, right, Biff...you'll be singing Barbershop at University next year. This is your last talent show, and so far it's been a dynasty for you. This was to be your crowning glory...oops. Sorry, guys...but we must rock. As we were leaving to go hit Dauphin Island (really, it hit us) with a bottle of 151 and a sweet bag of Colombian Red, we were still grinning.
The next night things were different. We walked in from backstage and a huge curtain was drawn. I couldn't see the audience but I could tell there were lots of people. It hit me that I was about to play in front of all of these people, and my stomach turned a flip. I peeked out through the side of the curtain and sure enough there were at least 450 people in the audience. I guess it could've gone either way, because some musicians in all levels become completely incapacitated by stage fright, which can happen at any time, but I've never really been that way, and I figured it'd be a good trial by fire. It was also the first time I'd ever felt a rush of energy that you couldn't see but certainly could feel, and realized that if you took that energy and gave it right back to the crowd they'd send it back squared, and it made this intense, energy/feedback loop. I'd heard about the effect from reading magazines or whatever, but feeling it for the first time was a trip.
We put on our sunglasses and at the last minute I put about ten pieces of bubblegum in my mouth. It seemed appropriate. Billy and Alan were doing the singing so I figured I'd blow bubbles. Like the rehearsal it was agreed we'd go on last. The quartet was originally supposed to go on last, but they didn't want to go on after us and I couldn't blame them. I knew if the rehearsal and the reaction of our peers was any indication, the crowd would probably really like us, and they did. Back then a bunch of kids who were good enough to have a band; much less be entertaining, wasn't as common as it is today.
The quartet went on and did their bit. It sounded...you know...like a barbershop quartet. They were tight and polished and they obviously took it very seriously. They finished with "Coney Island Baby" or whatever and got a nice round of applause. They did a bow and went offstage and into a secluded corner to watch us. They were the only four people in the room who never at least smiled. Everyone else was digging on it but it looked painful for them. We didn't let that bother us though and we nailed it. Billy was grooving on guitar and Alan was standing up and dancing around behind a baby grand, and I was digging on the natural reverb and drumming away in drummer heaven and blowing big bubbles.
We finished with our big hit "Chewing Gum." Now that I think about it the bridge section was a total freakout. I don't think it even had a time signature, but it did have a series of dramatic stops. It was a bit like a cross between Colonel Bruce Hampton and Captain Beefheart (may they respectfully RIP). For high school kids it wasn't bad. It was still "poppy" and the audience was right there with us. The tension built as the pitch went up. The guy in the tune was driving through town and saw his girlfriend crossing the street ahead. Sadly he blew a big bubble and it popped and stuck to his face and...well, it wasn't pretty. Just before the last stop I blew a bubble almost as big as my head and popped it with a drumstick on the beat. It popped and stuck to my face. Everybody went nuts, incluing us, because it wasn't planned. Actually there were four people in the room who didn't go nuts. Yep, you guessed it. Barbershop quartet.
There were several teachers or parents or whomever who were acting as judges. They looked worried but at the time I didn't know why. They did. They had a problem on their hands and they already knew it. That the quartet was going to win was set in stone, even though they knew we were going to go over better. I hadn't figured it out yet but the vibe was really creepy when ordinarily it shouldn't have been, and I knew something didn't seem right. Supposedly they were going by crowd response, and it should've been no contest. They didn't need "judges" to begin with. Ears don't lie. When those guys finished they got a very nice round of applause but when we finished they went berserk. They were yelling for an encore but we didn't know any more songs. The crowd certainly didn't yell for more (ahem) barbershop quartet tunes.
I was waiting for the guy to hand us the trophy, but the judges were pretending that it'd been too close to call, and they needed another "clap count." Really? I thought maybe they were just deef or stupid as fuck or something but I wasn't worried about a recount. So they got us both back up onstage and the announcer said "Elite Meat Barbershop Quartet" or whatever it was, and the crowd cheered. Then the guy said "Bazooka Boogies" and again the crowd went nuts. It wasn't close, but the quartet won. For the first time since we met them they smiled, and walked up to accept the trophy, as was apparently meant to be. All was A-OK in the Meat Elite's world, but this time the applause was much more subdued. Everybody knew they'd just been had.
Our mouths dropped open and so did a lot of others, but some people had a depressed, "Told you so" look on their faces. I got it right then. We were shocked, but it only took about three seconds for it to sink in. The system was rigged. It was all bullshit. The four guys lit up and were acting like four Miss Americas or something. It was a sad joke but we got it. We were the punchline. It wasn't like we didn't know about bullshit, but not on that level. That was the very institution entrusted with upholding ethics, not trashing them. It was shocking, but it needen't have been. Comparing a Rock band to a vocal group is apples and oranges anyway, and we didn't think we were "better." It was the principle. Speaking of, I guess he was in on it too. The whole gnarly bunch should have been fired.
Those fucks didn't give a damn about what was right. They only cared about what they wanted to be right, and screw the truth. For a second I was almost waiting for someone to call a foul but I realized it wasn't going to happen. Sure it wasn't like an earthshaking thing, but this was a prestigious school with a very good reputation. They were saying "Fuck you" to the truth right in front of everybody. They didn't care about honor or justice or working hard to earn something or any of that trivial stuff. Life was just a game to them, and they were cheaters. It hit me that there was nothing more than elitist family "honor" or some shit like that. Yes, it was at a high school, but I knew that it had to be widespread if it'd gotten down to that level. What would happen when you add millions of dollars to the equation?
All in all it was wild to experience two major milestones in my life within half an hour. What are the odds? I lost a good chunk of my innocence that night, but also any potential future stage fright. There were four guys acting like a load of clowns; like they'd actually won something. It was incredible. We picked up our jaws off the floor and looked at each other silently, like "Lesson learned." It wasn't like we were from the wrong side of the tracks. We lived in a fairly exclusive neighborhood, but we still had a trace of scruples. Over our way, if you won you won fair and square...not because you were supposed to. It took time, but it opened my eyes to the bullshit early, and I'll always be grateful. Enjoy your hollow "victory," Meat Street Elite Barbershop Quartet, or whoever you were. In the world called "reality," we smoked you. We stole your lunch money. What did you win? You cheated. It wasn't real. Welcome to the world.
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