Bald Guys

with The Fliptones, Tidal Waves, and the Ray Corvair Trio at the Tube Record Release at the Rat
by Mark Phinney

I was shitfaced by the time The Fliptones left the beach-combed stage. I was on a Southern Comfort kick that night, and I just went with it. I arrived at the Rat around, say… nine?? I dragged my friend Jen along so I could show off for her – See, these people respect me, they know I am the hip surf-rock representative for Lollipop… She was not impressed. I proceeded to swill as much free pre-party booze as I could get (you know, the stuff they give press people, bands, and anyone else who sneaks into the balcony). This was going to be a cool thing, the type of night I like to hit on a thirsty Thursday, when the hip is just spilling out over my sides along with all the drink I’m trying to down. Here it was, the long-awaited hype-up for the Tube: Atlantic Surf Essentials CD from the folks at CherryDisc. The night was billed as a “Groovy Surfabilly Schmooze Night,” therefore I proceeded to do just that. I think I went through a whole pack of smokes in ten minutes; I’m sorry but hell, I felt good, excited, the perfect frame of mind for chain smoking. The lineup was so sweet; we had the Bald Guys, Fliptones, Tidal Waves, and the Ray Corvair Trio, just a few of the cats on the compilation. It was the place to be that night, not that anybody wanted me there. Hey, guys, you know me, I cover the surf and rockabilly scene in this town… oh, come on… anyone? Anyone? Nothing. So I downed yet another cough medicine special and hit the dungeon to soak up the groovy sounds… and drink some more.

Around this time the Ray Corvair Trio was spyin’ it up in the wake of the Fliptones’ freak-scene beach party. This was the local surf shindig and it more than lived up to the hype – the floor was shakin’ and the bands were makin’ it happen. I swilled some more with Harbormaster Bob, getting nice and mutually toasted in preparation for the Bald Guys’ headlining set around midnight. It was a little disappointing that not all the comp’s bands were in attendance (especially The Fathoms, who have one of the best tracks on the CD), but happy as I was, the bands that were there kicked my sorry ass enough.

You know that point where things get blurry and instead of swingin’ on the beach it seems like you’re drowning? Well, by the time the Bald Guys fueled up I was swimming for dear life. With Lars on sax and drunken Bob on strings, the sonic surfers ripped through a high tide of classic covers and variations on their own originals. Lots of screaming, drinking, and fake surfing was taking place. Jen was buzzin’. After the carnage was swept away and I tried to look sober as I said my good nights, I dragged my sandy ass out of the joint… or did Jen drag it? All in all, I think that this town needs to sponsor more of these hip happenings so I can dance and drink for free and pass it off as journalism. Hey, it’s a living.