For most, today is a day of costumes and candy, jack-o-lanterns and things that go bump in the night. For me, All Hallow’s Eve marks another occasion – one that still makes me wistful and sad a few years later. On October 31, 2005, the world said goodbye to one of the greatest musical groups to ever grace the stage: Rocket from the Crypt.
I realize that it is strange to mourn the loss of a musical group, especially one that had only minor commercial success in spite of its overwhelming critical acclaim. I fear I’ll come off like one of those slightly crazed John Lennon fans still roaming the streets of Berkeley, espousing the virtues of his music while simultaneously decrying the acts of the current political administration. To me, the end of Rocket from the Crypt signaled not only the demise of an incredibly talented group, but more broadly, the death of local music, and the loss of so many bands who – like them – were exceedingly talented but underplayed on the radio. If a band as talented as Rocket from the Crypt met its end for no reason other than having given it a good run for 16 years and never finding commercial success, it’s a sad time for music indeed.
If you have never lived in San Diego (where they are music icons), chances are Rocket from the Crypt (RFTC) is unknown to you. Their blend of high energy alt-rock and horns suffered from radio station’s constantly saying they “didn’t know how to market them.” Radio execs apparently felt that listeners couldn’t ‘get’ a band with a horn section that wasn’t ska or swing. It’s such an incredible shame, because anyone who went to one of their live shows was instantly won over by them – for life. One of the best articles written about RFTC appeared in the bible of music magazines, Rolling Stone, when they named RFTC one of the best live bands in the history of rock ‘n roll. Too bad so few people had heard about them.
Indeed, Rocket’s live shows were legendary. In addition to the rotating selection of costumes/uniforms, Rocket made sure they put on a show instead of a mere selection of songs. They encouraged people to dance, let loose, and experience the “unconditional love of Rocket from the Crypt.” At one show I attended in San Francisco shortly after 9/11, lead singer John “Speedo” Reis encouraged the crowd to take a moment, turn to the person behind them, and shake their hand or give them a hug. To my surprise, the person dancing behind me was none other than crooner Chris Isaak. For the record, he’s just as handsome and charming in person. He’s also surprisingly hairy.
In fact, over time I found out that Rocket did have its fair share of high profile fans. I remember sitting on my couch in 2002, watching music videos on VH1 (they did show some videos on VH1 and MTV then…but that’s a whole other blog post). I was sick as a dog with a mighty cold. In between videos they showed a segment where they asked famous musicians what was in their CD player. Peter Buck of REM said, “I’ve been listening to Rocket from the Crypt’s “Group Sounds.” He spent the next minute praising it, and while I started muttering “Oh my God, oh my God,” wishing someone was home for me to share this moment with, they played a video on Rocket’s. In it’s entirety. The next few minutes are a blur. I think I called Jared and Todd, since they could appreciate the enormity of this moment. But I felt such a sense of pride and joy, because the band who met so much to me had a few minutes of well-deserved fame.
Rocket from the Crypt also provided me with some of the funnier awkward moments in my life. My freshman year of college Rocket came to San Francisco to play at Bottom of the Hill, an aptly named music venue located at the – you guessed it -- bottom of a hill in the SOMA warehouse district. I went to the show with the person I was dating at the time. To the side of the venue I could see several members of the band chatting with other people, so I sucked up my courage and decided to walk over and say hi. Wait. Let me back up for a moment. During my senior year of high school, while Editor-in-Chief of the school newspaper, I received one of the best surprises of my life. Our school’s computer teacher, Joe Austin, knew I was a fan of RFTC, and he was friends with the band. He arranged for two of the band members to come and surprise me on campus and have an interview. I spent over two hours talking with them about Rocket, and needless to say, interviewing them was one of the highlights of my high school experience, and I was forever in love with Paul (aka “Apollo”) and Jason (“JC”). So back to Bottom of the Hill. Paul was leaning beside the tour bus, and I walked up to him and started to say, “Paul, I don’t know if you remember me, but --.” He interrupted me, leaned in and coyly smiled, to say, “Did we make love together?” I started laughing, and told him that we hadn’t. He replied, “Are you sure?” I looked over to my date, who clearly didn’t find this funny, and had to convince Paul that our relationship had purely been ‘professional,’ and assure my date that I wasn’t conducting late-night trysts with members of my favorite band. Paul responded with, “Bummer,” which I found a strange sort of compliment, but my date definitely didn’t appreciate it.
Fast forward to Rocket’s farewell concert at the Westin on Halloween night 2005. I was attending their final farewell with a group that included Todd, Jared, and Brenda, and being that Rocket’s Halloween bashes were known for being fabulous costume events, we donned our costumes too. The costumes of Rocket fans did not disappoint – we’re talking seriously impressive, elaborate stuff. Inspired by our recent rental of Seasons 1-3 of Alias, I decided to dress as CIA Agent Sydney Bristow, in her iconic costume of a bright red wig and head-to-toe, skin tight leather. This was the exact moment in time that Valerie Plame was ‘outed’ by Scooter Libby, so to add a sardonic twist I made a sign affixed to my back that read, “Outed by Scooter Libby.” It got a few laughs, and since I had been working out, I was feeling pretty good in this outfit.
I left the group at one point to get a drink at the bar, and I noticed among the multitude of elaborate costumes the back of a tall man dressed in an enormous banana costume. I laughed and turned away to order my drink. Once I had my drink, I turned around to go back into the ballroom. At that moment I made eye contact with the banana man. Mr. Chiquita was none other than Joe Austin, the former computers teacher at my high school, whom I had heard through the grapevine was now the Vice Principal at San Diego High School. There’s always something a little awkward about unexpectedly meeting someone you knew as a youth once you’re an adult. Factor in that he’s a former teacher and you a former student, and he’s a giant banana and you’re in skin tight leather and a red wig, and you can imagine the awkwardness of the reunion. We both sort of looked down sheepishly and laughed, and proceeded to catch up with the more ‘adult’ versions of one another.
Rocket will forever be for me the music that gets me up, gets me moving, and makes me happy. I’m grateful that I found music that I connected with so deeply in my life – some people never will. For years now I’ve even been toying with getting a tattoo of Rocket’s insignia on me and officially joining “Speedo’s Army,” the surprising large group of fans who have permanently inked themselves in support of the band. Google it sometime to check out pages and pages of Rocket tattoos (you’ll even find Joe Austin’s bicep there). In return for this act, Rocket promised fans free admission into all their shows for life. Even though the group is now disbanded and I can never utilize the perks of being a member of the Army, I still feel the urge to pay homage to them, and say thank you for giving me so many amazing memories.
I’m trying to find out more about the local music scene here in Connecticut so that I too can support local music in the place where I’m now local. And for my Rocket fix, I can still turn to KEXP (http://www.kexp.org/), whom Sarah turned me onto and for which I am forever grateful. John, the Morning Show host, is also a fan of RFTC, and I think he and I have an unspoken thing going on now, because ever since I sent an email thanking the station for playing Rocket, he’s played them more -- I like to think just for me. Because Rocket clearly made a difference in his life too.
I realize that it is strange to mourn the loss of a musical group, especially one that had only minor commercial success in spite of its overwhelming critical acclaim. I fear I’ll come off like one of those slightly crazed John Lennon fans still roaming the streets of Berkeley, espousing the virtues of his music while simultaneously decrying the acts of the current political administration. To me, the end of Rocket from the Crypt signaled not only the demise of an incredibly talented group, but more broadly, the death of local music, and the loss of so many bands who – like them – were exceedingly talented but underplayed on the radio. If a band as talented as Rocket from the Crypt met its end for no reason other than having given it a good run for 16 years and never finding commercial success, it’s a sad time for music indeed.
If you have never lived in San Diego (where they are music icons), chances are Rocket from the Crypt (RFTC) is unknown to you. Their blend of high energy alt-rock and horns suffered from radio station’s constantly saying they “didn’t know how to market them.” Radio execs apparently felt that listeners couldn’t ‘get’ a band with a horn section that wasn’t ska or swing. It’s such an incredible shame, because anyone who went to one of their live shows was instantly won over by them – for life. One of the best articles written about RFTC appeared in the bible of music magazines, Rolling Stone, when they named RFTC one of the best live bands in the history of rock ‘n roll. Too bad so few people had heard about them.
Indeed, Rocket’s live shows were legendary. In addition to the rotating selection of costumes/uniforms, Rocket made sure they put on a show instead of a mere selection of songs. They encouraged people to dance, let loose, and experience the “unconditional love of Rocket from the Crypt.” At one show I attended in San Francisco shortly after 9/11, lead singer John “Speedo” Reis encouraged the crowd to take a moment, turn to the person behind them, and shake their hand or give them a hug. To my surprise, the person dancing behind me was none other than crooner Chris Isaak. For the record, he’s just as handsome and charming in person. He’s also surprisingly hairy.
In fact, over time I found out that Rocket did have its fair share of high profile fans. I remember sitting on my couch in 2002, watching music videos on VH1 (they did show some videos on VH1 and MTV then…but that’s a whole other blog post). I was sick as a dog with a mighty cold. In between videos they showed a segment where they asked famous musicians what was in their CD player. Peter Buck of REM said, “I’ve been listening to Rocket from the Crypt’s “Group Sounds.” He spent the next minute praising it, and while I started muttering “Oh my God, oh my God,” wishing someone was home for me to share this moment with, they played a video on Rocket’s. In it’s entirety. The next few minutes are a blur. I think I called Jared and Todd, since they could appreciate the enormity of this moment. But I felt such a sense of pride and joy, because the band who met so much to me had a few minutes of well-deserved fame.
Rocket from the Crypt also provided me with some of the funnier awkward moments in my life. My freshman year of college Rocket came to San Francisco to play at Bottom of the Hill, an aptly named music venue located at the – you guessed it -- bottom of a hill in the SOMA warehouse district. I went to the show with the person I was dating at the time. To the side of the venue I could see several members of the band chatting with other people, so I sucked up my courage and decided to walk over and say hi. Wait. Let me back up for a moment. During my senior year of high school, while Editor-in-Chief of the school newspaper, I received one of the best surprises of my life. Our school’s computer teacher, Joe Austin, knew I was a fan of RFTC, and he was friends with the band. He arranged for two of the band members to come and surprise me on campus and have an interview. I spent over two hours talking with them about Rocket, and needless to say, interviewing them was one of the highlights of my high school experience, and I was forever in love with Paul (aka “Apollo”) and Jason (“JC”). So back to Bottom of the Hill. Paul was leaning beside the tour bus, and I walked up to him and started to say, “Paul, I don’t know if you remember me, but --.” He interrupted me, leaned in and coyly smiled, to say, “Did we make love together?” I started laughing, and told him that we hadn’t. He replied, “Are you sure?” I looked over to my date, who clearly didn’t find this funny, and had to convince Paul that our relationship had purely been ‘professional,’ and assure my date that I wasn’t conducting late-night trysts with members of my favorite band. Paul responded with, “Bummer,” which I found a strange sort of compliment, but my date definitely didn’t appreciate it.
Fast forward to Rocket’s farewell concert at the Westin on Halloween night 2005. I was attending their final farewell with a group that included Todd, Jared, and Brenda, and being that Rocket’s Halloween bashes were known for being fabulous costume events, we donned our costumes too. The costumes of Rocket fans did not disappoint – we’re talking seriously impressive, elaborate stuff. Inspired by our recent rental of Seasons 1-3 of Alias, I decided to dress as CIA Agent Sydney Bristow, in her iconic costume of a bright red wig and head-to-toe, skin tight leather. This was the exact moment in time that Valerie Plame was ‘outed’ by Scooter Libby, so to add a sardonic twist I made a sign affixed to my back that read, “Outed by Scooter Libby.” It got a few laughs, and since I had been working out, I was feeling pretty good in this outfit.
I left the group at one point to get a drink at the bar, and I noticed among the multitude of elaborate costumes the back of a tall man dressed in an enormous banana costume. I laughed and turned away to order my drink. Once I had my drink, I turned around to go back into the ballroom. At that moment I made eye contact with the banana man. Mr. Chiquita was none other than Joe Austin, the former computers teacher at my high school, whom I had heard through the grapevine was now the Vice Principal at San Diego High School. There’s always something a little awkward about unexpectedly meeting someone you knew as a youth once you’re an adult. Factor in that he’s a former teacher and you a former student, and he’s a giant banana and you’re in skin tight leather and a red wig, and you can imagine the awkwardness of the reunion. We both sort of looked down sheepishly and laughed, and proceeded to catch up with the more ‘adult’ versions of one another.
Rocket will forever be for me the music that gets me up, gets me moving, and makes me happy. I’m grateful that I found music that I connected with so deeply in my life – some people never will. For years now I’ve even been toying with getting a tattoo of Rocket’s insignia on me and officially joining “Speedo’s Army,” the surprising large group of fans who have permanently inked themselves in support of the band. Google it sometime to check out pages and pages of Rocket tattoos (you’ll even find Joe Austin’s bicep there). In return for this act, Rocket promised fans free admission into all their shows for life. Even though the group is now disbanded and I can never utilize the perks of being a member of the Army, I still feel the urge to pay homage to them, and say thank you for giving me so many amazing memories.
I’m trying to find out more about the local music scene here in Connecticut so that I too can support local music in the place where I’m now local. And for my Rocket fix, I can still turn to KEXP (http://www.kexp.org/), whom Sarah turned me onto and for which I am forever grateful. John, the Morning Show host, is also a fan of RFTC, and I think he and I have an unspoken thing going on now, because ever since I sent an email thanking the station for playing Rocket, he’s played them more -- I like to think just for me. Because Rocket clearly made a difference in his life too.
So thank you John, Ned, Paul, Petey, JC, Adam, and Mario, and RIP RFTC. And for those of you not familiar with Rocket, Google them. Go on YouTube and type them in. Get a slice of the soulful brand of Rocket rock and roll. Hell, kick your pants off, dance around in your underwear, and feel the unconditional love of RFTC.
PS: I've fixed the settings so that anyone can post a comment to the blog -- even if you don't have a Gmail account. Google changed the settings and didn't notify me. Sorry!
2 comments:
K-E-X-P Seattle! They sometimes read those e-mails on the air, especially when they're from out of town-ers. I'll keep my ears open...
RFTC - still my favorite band of all time. It warms my heart when a random stranger here in Portland, OR sees me wearing a RFTC shirt and will go out of their way to stop me just to talk about the band.
Post a Comment