Local bands bring back funky fair memories

There’s really nothing quite like being on stage. As bad as the nerves can be, tying knots in your gut, the thrill of playing music you love and having even just a handful of people signal some sort of appreciation is pure adrenaline.

It makes the sweaty palms worth it, the bleeding calluses on your fingers pain-free, the high-pitched squeal in your ear from standing next to an amp the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard.

It’s live music, and to perform is not quite something you can explain to someone who’s never done it.

Writing today’s fair feature on local bands really got me nostalgic for the three times I had to chance to play there as a teen and in my early 20s. In retrospect, it probably wasn’t all that great, but at a time when I had stars in my eyes and a glimmer of moving away and hitting the road, it was as good as gold.

The fair and local bands are like rock singers and big egos, they go hand in hand. It’s cutting teeth for many kids, at least the local teens and young adults I grew up with around the Valley.

There isn’t a huge emphasis on the younger bands these days, and that’s unfortunate. It would be nice to see that come back, because to be in a garage band at 16 or 17, really getting the music down tightly, crafting a set that kills, just to play a kegger out in the country or a party that will get busted up by the cops can be a drag.

When I was younger, you waited all year to take what you had cultivated to the masses. But seriously, musicians don’t play to not be heard, and the fair was a really good equalizer for kids, even if it was uncool. (Which it still is in a lot of ways).

My first two times playing was with the Central Union High School rock combo; once in my junior year on one of the smaller stages near the front entrance and once in my senior year in 1992 on what is now the Rabobank Center Stage.

Yes, it was a school band, but we always considered ourselves a little outside the school band world, as we spent a class period under Jimmie Cannon learning songs by ear, playing whatever style or genre one of the seven singers would bring to the table.

Those two years really made me grow as a teenage musician. Copping the sequenced bass figure on Madonna’s “Borderline” really tested the skills of a guy who was raised playing Metallica or the Misfits.

Janet Jackson. Living Colour. REM. Mariah Carey. 10,000 Maniacs. We learned and played it all, including Metallica and Hendrix, if I sang.

At 17, that’s some rock star stuff, even if it’s not. Even if no one else cares; I cared, my classmates cared.

Later on I played on that Rabobank stage in a funk and reggae group named — awesomely, by the way — Pooky and the 40 Oz. Fried Chicken Revue.

It was a terrible name, and I’m sure today it would be construed as a little racist, but you have to understand that the drummer and I were the only Caucasians in the group.

But damn we had a tight set list at that Saturday night show, drawing a good crowd because we regularly played at Sam’s Place, which was across the street from the IVPress.

“The Payback” from James Brown was one of my favorites to play. Militant as hell and so damn funky, with that hard, sparse bass line.

“Thank You” from Sly & The Family Stone. “Jungle Boogie” from Kool and the Gang. P-Funk. Classic Bob Marley and Peter Tosh. Prince, even. Such a cool set.

Anyway, thanks for indulging my trip down memory lane, and I’m glad I got the chance to interview some of the new waves of locals keeping the stages at the fair full of Valley residents.

Now, young kids, sign up next year. It might not be punk, it might not be cool, but music is to be shared and make some emotional connections. Stop hiding and let us appreciate you.

Related story: Local musicians a fair tradition: Homegrown chops get a chance to shine

This column originally ran in Imperial Valley Press, March 6, 2015.