Pick It Up! - Ska in the '90s (2019) - full transcript

(soothing synth music)

[Narrator] There was a time in the 1990s

when it seemed like ska
music was everywhere.

On the radio, in movies, on TV,

even on top of the Billboard chart.

Exciting.

These are the stories you dream about.

Like that time it felt this was right.

It felt like if I could define a music

for the mid-'90s, it was ska punk.

This is so different and so weird



and my parents are gonna hate it.

I love it.

No one's gonna get it.

I get to go back to high school

and the preppy girls are gonna be like,

where'd you go this weekend?

I'd be like pfft, you're not
even gonna understand ska.

Ska is ours.

It's for the weird kids. (Chuckles)

Before that it was two-toned,

very black and white specials.

Everything was just (vocalizes).

Somehow the color exploded
from the No Doubt,

Reel Big Fish, Less Than
Jake and Goldfinger.



That was that positive, here we go.

Now you're startin'
to see a national level,

a band like the Bosstones come in.

This is bigger than our little thing.

This is somethin' next level.

Back then, it was like the people

that liked the music loved the music.

I just tell people, it's
the perfect dance music.

In their mind, they're probably thinkin'

maybe hip-hop or something.

I think a lotta people just looked at,

especially the ska music of the late '90s,

as this kinda wacky, silly thing.

Don't take it seriously, it's just a joke.

But it means a lot to us.

As a teenager, it was just like wow,

there's a music out there

where it just makes me feel
positive and makes me feel good.

When the right band does it, you feel it.

If literally somebody walkin'
down the street that's like

why do I wanna come see your show?

I'm like you'll like it, I guarantee.

Come in, like '90% chance you'll like it.

It made me really happy.

To watch the way a bunch of
young musicians in America

decided they would love and
use this really powerful

dance music with an incredible
groove that they had.

It was amazing for me.

It's kinda hard to
deny ska in a lotta ways.

There's an infectiousness to it

where if you're not open to it,

maybe you're not gonna get there.

But if you're at all
susceptible, it's gonna get you.

It's just fun music, man.

It's like you can dance to it.

You feel like you can
let go of all the shit

that happens in your life.

It's a very infectious sound

and a very fun, positive music

that is lovable.

I think every generation has
their we were hippies, man.

We were at Woodstock, that
was the greatest time.

I'm sure it was awesome,
but I was lucky enough

to be in a dumb, dopey ska band

playing with some amazing other bands.

Get to see the world,

get to make friends all over the place.

I think just right
place, right time a lot too

where the world was ready for fun music.

I think ska especially in Orange County,

Southern California and the United States,

it blew up at that time.

The idea of us being a ska
band was kind of ridiculous.

Let's just call it like it is,

we're just a bunch of dumb white guys

from Southern California.

We probably have no business playing ska.

Yeah, the way SoCal blended all the punk

that was already SoCal
punk with the modern ska

was really unique and powerful
at the time, honestly.

Even if got laughed at afterwards.

Ska defines who I am as a person

and I will never turn my
back on ska. (Vocalizes)

Looking back, I have no regrets.

- You should.
- Yup.

It was a very short
window of passing time.

Then by late '99, 2000, it was over.

Bands were gettin' dropped.

A lotta people thought maybe
we were a joke or something

because we were a third wave ska band.

Blame us, why don't you?

Just come out and say it,

it's Orange County's
fault that ska crashed.

Yes.

Yes, we overdid it.

Are you happy now?

(jazzy ska music)

♪ Pick it up ♪

♪ Pick it up ♪

♪ Go team go ♪

♪ Pick it up ♪

It became different because in '87,

you'd be hard-pressed to find people

who knew what ska music was.

But seven, eight years later,

you'd be hard-pressed
to find a young person

who'd never heard of it.

(lively ska music)

♪ Aww yeah ♪

Hi, I'm Scott.

We're here in Time Square in New York City

and we're gonna talk to
people about ska music.

See how that goes.

Ska.

Ska music, familiar?

Ska music, you know about ska music?

Sir, ska music?

Ma'am, no?

We're asking people on
the street in New York

if they know anything about ska music.

Not at all.

Are you familiar with ska music?

What kinda music?

- Ska music.
- No.

Ska music, do you know
anything about ska music?

Ska music, never heard of it.

Are you familiar with ska music?

No.

There's no pressure.

This is not a test.

There's no money involved.

Would you know

like Sublime?

No, I'm too young for that.

(chuckles) No no no, that's like '90s.

(Scott chuckling)

Unfamiliar territory.

Completely.

No, what is ska music?

Have you ever heard of The Specials?

No, what are The Specials?

They're a band.

The Specials?

I've heard of them.

They're an old English band, aren't they?

- Yup.
- Yeah.

What do you know about ska music?

Do you know about ska music?

Come here, talk to me for goodness sakes.

I hate saying No Doubt
'cause they're not really ska,

but they have the elements.

How about No Doubt?

I have heard of No Doubt.

Gwen Stefani, right? (Laughs)

Okay, great.

How familiar are you with ska music?

Ska?

Not at all.

How familiar are you with ska music?

Very familiar with the ska music.

It was the precursor to the reggae music,

the British beating

and all those great bands that came out.

The Skatalites made you move.

Even if you didn't wanna
move, it made you move.

This is so great.

I just learned somethin' today.

You learn somethin' new every day, hey.

[Narrator] Where did
ska music come from?

Ska begins in Kingston, Jamaica
at the end of the 1950s.

The homegrown music of the island, mento,

blended with the jazz music

performed for tours and nightclubs

and the rhythm and blues
picked up on transistors

from American radio stations.

It was a strange recipe
of lively horns and drums,

sometimes a piano and
maybe even some vocals.

But it was that distinctive,
syncopated rhythm

that really made ska its own creation.

It was different, it was fun.

It was a source of upbeat, uptempo joy

no matter what the political,
social or economic situation

of those who wore their
best shoes and danced.

Danced to it they did in
places like Forrester's Hall,

Chocomo Lawn and Tile Jubilee Gardens.

These were the original dance halls.

Some had walls, some
were outdoors in yards

with nothin' but a zinc fence
surroundin' the space inside

where Kingston DJs, called
sound system operators,

held dances every night of the week.

Imagine payin' a few bucks or shillin's

since Jamaica was still a
colony of Britain back then.

Walkin' inside a sound system
dance on a Saturday night.

Bass pumpin', horns blarin'
from massive handmade

speaker boxes stacked
high in the hot night sky.

Speakers strapped to tree branches

so every man, woman and
child from miles around

could hear their records
on the turntables.

The sound waftin' mixin'
with the smoke of curry goat

and fried red snapper.

Ska was more than music.

Ska was an experience.

Dances attracted hundreds
of people who dressed sharp

to move to the music of local artists,

like Laurel Aitken, Derrick
Morgan, Prince Buster,

Desmond Dekker and even young
Jimmy Cliff and Bob Marley.

To supply the music,
sound system operators

also recorded these new Jamaican artists.

Auditioning vocalists in their studios

every day of the week.

Behind the singers were the house bands,

hornsmen as they were called.

They were highly-skilled musicians,

trained in jazz and classical music.

They came to the recording
studios to try to earn a livin'.

A few coins for a recording
that the sound system operators

then used to play that night.

Sometimes they'd battle one
another for the biggest crowd

in what was known as a clash.

Competition was tough.

It was a big business.

There were fights between groups

that aligned themselves
with the sound systems.

These were The Rude Boys.

They dressed to the nines,
wore sunglasses at night

and exhibited their
power by breakin' needles

from the rival turntable and
pushin' around the audience

to break up the party.

How did this music, dance and culture

even make its way to America?

It wasn't a direct route.

It was through the
migration of Jamaican people

to England that ska travels,

like a bird with a seed
where it's planted in places

like Brixton, Nottinghill, Coventry.

They came in search of work
and brought their records

and musical taste with them.

Show at house parties and dance clubs,

Jamaican immigrants felt
like they were home.

The white working class youth

who lived and worked
alongside the Jamaicans

loved what they heard.

They loved My Boy
Lollipop by Millie Small.

They loved Desmond
Dekker's 007 Shanty Town

and Prince Buster's One Step Beyond.

They also loved their style
of dress and attitude,

sharp and cool like The Rude Boys.

When the white youth brought
their own musical backgrounds

and taste into the mix, punk and soul,

another recipe for ska was born: Two-tone.

Two-tone became wildly popular in England

as early as 1979 and lasted until 1984.

Named after the record label founded by

Jerry Dammers of The
Specials, this ska movement

sounded very different
from its Jamaican parents.

It wasn't just fast, it was phonetic.

Bands like The Specials,
The Selecter, The Beat,

Madness and Bad Manners
topped the charts with songs

that spoke of politics and racial unity.

Members of these groups
were both black and white.

Their songs were either
brand new creations

or covers of their
original Jamaican songs.

But the sound always featured
that distinctive ska rhythm.

It was through this British version

that ska began to take
foothold in America.

(crowd cheering)

I'm just thinkin' 'bout how

before you'd have to explain
to somebody what ska was.

What is ska?

What is ska, Sascha?

(mumbles) rock band and you don't know

what ska music is?

Geez.

I don't know what ska music is.

People say, "What is ska?"

"What do you play?"

I guess if my mom asked
me what ska music is,

I would say it's a danceable, upbeat,

major key, fun party music.

I say it's fun.

It's got horns in it.

You can dance to it.

What I wanna tell 'em is about the tribe

and how important it's been in my life.

If I have longer, I'll explain.

Oh no, I found people with
this common music interest

all over the world, but the
short answer is fast reggae.

Ska, the way I explain it

is ska's a upbeat version of reggae.

It's basically just fast reggae.

I usually just say it's fast reggae.

I was gonna say it's fast reggae.

But if you didn't know what reggae is,

then that wouldn't work.

The description was it's
faster reggae with horns,

which is terrible.

In reality, ska is the
grandfather to reggae music.

Before reggae, there was ska.

It would slow down into rock
steady couple years later,

which turned into reggae
which has spawned the world.

Without ska, there would be no reggae.

Everybody's heard ska before,

but you don't know how
to put it into words

or you try and describe bands
that play ska or played ska.

People will say, "I never heard
of 'em, never heard of 'em."

Even when you go all the
way to the top echelon

which is No Doubt you say, No Doubt?

They go like oh yeah,
I've heard of No Doubt.

You go, haven't you heard any
of their really early stuff?

They're like no, not really.

Not like if any of them had (mumbles),

but picture that with horns.

If that doesn't resonate you just go,

picture happy music with horns.

They go, like Chicago?

If you're tryin' to get outta
the conversation you go,

yeah just like Chicago.

We're exactly like Chicago.

To me, ska music is
such a beautiful thing

because of where it came from.

It's the ultimate story
of underdogs prevailing

and creating beauty out of nothing.

It's Jamaican people taking
American big band rock 'n roll

and making their own version of it.

I'm sure without a few
joints and some rum,

I made this thing that they called Skarum

because they had to
come up with somethin'.

'Cause it wasn't jazz, it wasn't big band.

It wasn't rock 'n roll;
It was their thing,

so they called it Skarum.

Then you get the
musicality of it as well.

The guys in The Skatilites were
all jazz guys to begin with.

Their heroes were people
like Lester Young,

John Coltrane and Charlie Parker.

People like this, they
idolized these guys.

As soon as you hear that opening

timbales or that opening snare run,

all of a sudden the bass starts rollin'.

The keys start bubblin'.

Everything is on the second beat

and the fourth beat as an upbeat,

which has this very fun,
danceable energy to it

that's pretty infectious.

We all had these little worlds of music

that we were exploring.

When we'd get in the van
together or rehearse,

these would all clash.

You have this circle
which represents reggae.

You have this circle that represents punk.

This circle that represents rock 'n roll

and this circle that represents jazz.

When you push 'em together at
their points of intersection,

the nexus of intersection
of all those styles

is where ska music sits.

Because ska music is not only
drawn from these sources,

it's givin' back to it.

It's a mixture of all those things.

I remember hearin'
the first English beat

for The Specials back around when I was 16

and just goin', what the fuck?

What is this?

I love this shit.

It's fucking great.

Listening to Madness,
The Specials and Selecter

and hearing bands like that as a kid,

not really knowing that was ska.

The Specials in hindsight

are the greatest ska band of all time.

That record if you don't like it,

then there's something wrong with you.

♪ Stop your messin' around ♪

(singers vocalizing)

♪ Better think of your future ♪

We saw these wonderful
ideas about changin' the world

like most generations do.

We just ended up getting
fucked up. (Laughs)

But we've made a lotta people
happy while we're doin' it.

Check, check, check.

This is Tuesday the 8th of March, 1988.

("Sound System" by Operation Ivy)

♪ Sound system gonna bring me back up ♪

♪ Yeah one thing that I can depend on ♪

Operation Ivy only put out one album.

One album.

They're more popular now than they were

when they were a band.

That album, Energy, that's a classic.

It's one of those things
like you don't know Op Ivy,

get on that if you're
gonna be into ska music.

Then you can pretend
like you've always known.

I was just like what
in the fuck is this?

I don't even understand how
they're even playing this stuff,

but I'm gonna figure it out.

I would get into my car for high school.

It be early in the
morning and really cold.

I dubbed the LP to a cassette.

I would have a lotta moaning in my head.

Life's hard.

Why do I have to go to school?

Then I put up the Operation Ivy record

and immediately I'd be in a good mood.

It would just fill me up
with energy, if you will.

I'd be ready and my thoughts
would be more positive.

I remember thinking that
was such a great gift

that this band had done for me.

I appreciated it so much.

I was in my car and I remember saying,

"I'm gonna do this for other people."

Ska punk, it didn't
exist before Operation Ivy.

Then Operation Ivy kinda
pushed into the early '90s

and became what we're talking about now.

From there, that was the gateway.

It was Bosstones' Fishbone.

Without Fishbone, I wouldn't be doin'

what I'm doin' right now.

I'd go to Fishbone, it'd
be on a school night.

I wouldn't be able to sleep after the show

because I'd be so wired, a natural high

of just wow, what I just saw was amazing.

♪ All day long ♪

(muffled lyrics)

They were so influential.

Not only musically,
but just as minorities.

Just seeing people of color playing

rock 'n roll beats music and singing.

We were super into Fishbone.

We tried to play funk and it was bad.

Our bass player couldn't
do the thumb thing.

He could play arpeggios really fast.

I'm like we sound cool
playin' ska, let's do that.

That's how new music happens.

You tryin' to emulate your heroes a bit,

but you're probably not that
good at music at the time.

It comes out something
completely different

and that's new music.

(lively ska music)

What is skanking? (Chuckles)

Skanking is so mechanically easy

that it gave every awkward
kid the opportunity to dance.

Skankin', man.

You're doin' that.

A lotta jumpin' goin' on.

I think the challenge I always
had with the word skanking

is it's got skank in it.

The skank is a primal move.

It really is.

It's just a way of being, a way of moving.

It's just raw.

It's hard not to move when
you hear a good ska song.

It's hard not to bounce
your head or tap your foot

or just get into it a little bit.

There's always one guy that is
like this during a ska song.

He'll roll his eyes.

But then after he does
the song, he's like.

Then towards the end
of the song, he's like.

Then he'll look around
like did anybody see me?

St. Louis, we were on tour
with the Dance Hall Crashers

and we played this show.

Again nobody moved.

They're like boo, where's
Dance Hall Crashers?

The next day, we had an interview.

The guy said, "Tell me,
how do you feel about"

"the Midwest in general?"

I said, "Man, F the Midwest."

(Alex laughing)

"We come all the way out here

"to play music and nobody dances."

"Everybody was just standin'
around lookin' at us."

The guy's like, "Whoa whoa whoa,
cut the tape, roll it back."

"Listen, the reason nobody
dances to your music"

"is because they don't know how to."

For me, it was like a I'm sorry moment.

It was from that point that Alex and I

began doing kind of synchronized dances

to give the crowd an idea
that you could do this,

you could do this, you
could do this and it worked.

Before you come in
and everyone would dance

in a line together and
that's it in the audience.

Everyone is lined up
and there's no marchin'.

Then it was marchin',
boom, boom, boom, boom.

It was just chaos and
the ska got faster too.

You had more like The Specials-type vibes

and then it just went into
more like the Bosstones.

Everything was the Bosstones.

Everything.

♪ I guess I really don't
know how to party ♪

If you wanna talk about third
wave ska, that's the band.

They were the ones who really said

this is what it means to
be a ska band in this era.

Think of The Mighty Mighty
Bosstones, how many members?

One, two, three, four, five,
six, seven, eight members.

Like Ben Carr, bless him.

But what did Ben Carr do?

All he did was dance
and it's the same dance

for the entire show.

He's the best at what he does.

Nobody does it better than that.

We were a young band.

We couldn't get into the club
unless you were in the band

'cause most of us were
under the drinking age.

Ben was just like a guy that
was hangin' around with us

when we walked in the back of the Rat,

we just basically said,
"Yeah, he's in the band."

He got up on stage and was in the band.

He really ran with it, so to speak.

Picture some big music business guy

with a cigar being like we don't need him.

Stories like that where
a band is still brothers,

they still take care of
each other and they get it.

They're not looking to the
horizon for something else.

They realize what's in front of 'em.

What's working and what's good.

The fact that I heard
that he's an equal member,

it's what it's made of.

[Narrator] Goin' to ska shows

was a unique experience and
audiences just like in the UK

just like in Jamaica, often
dressed up for the shows.

It was all about dancing,
supportin' the bands

and havin' one big party at ground zero.

We would go to shows and
go what's everybody wearin'?

As you can see, (chuckles)

I like dressin' up, man.

I love my pork pie
hats and my Doc Martins.

Suit and tie, polo shirts
with the little collars.

The skinny tie with the
little punk rock button.

You have the variations
of were you a Rude Boy

or were you a mob?

The mob movement with
the Vespas, the Lambrettas,

the Ben Sherman and the Fred Perry.

All of it.

That image will always be in my brain

as that's what cool people look like.

When you went to see a ska band,

they cared that they were playing a show.

They dressed up for it.

Fashion in The Bosstones?

Don't get me started. (Chuckles)

The whole plaid thing and all that,

that just kinda grew out
of us tryin' to have fun

and be entertaining.

Back then it was like
we're playing clubs

where literally 110 degrees in the club

and I got a full three-piece suit,

all buttoned up, the whole show.

Even to this day, my
wife will be like "Dude",

"take off your fuckin' tie,"
halfway through the set

'cause I'm drenched 'cause of sweat.

That's the other dilemma.

I would sweat so much in
these suits that they'd shrink

because they're not supposed to be washed.

The next show, they'd be like
up to here and I'd be like.

We're the kinda dudes that

whatever we were wearin' that day on tour.

We'd get outta the van and
that's what we were wearin'

on the stage probably that night.

The older crowd that
came up in the '80s.

We kinda looked at these kids goin',

"You need to tuck your shirt in."

There were these unwritten rules

where you had to look a certain way.

You had to wear your hair a certain way.

We would go thrift shopping
and look for vintage suits.

It wasn't like let's wear a
random suit and a skinny tie.

We had to have everything perfect.

Instead of skinny ties,
we started wearin' fat ties

and buying cheap polyester
suits at thrift stores

'cause that's what was available.

You'd have these kids at ska shows

who were raiding their father's closets,

basically putting on their
dad's ties and their dad's suits

and some hat that they would find

in the garage or something.

There's always gonna be the
guy in the Hawaiian shirt.

I had a little bit to
do with the Hawaiian shirt

being associated with ska.

I'm sorry or you're welcome.

You can go to a ska show
dressed however you want

and you're accepted.

That kinda became the whole
wacky thing about ska.

You wear the checkers.

You wear the crazy colors
and the outfits and stuff.

It all fit.

It didn't match and it fit.

(lively ska music)

(playful ska music)

We're rollin'.

We're still goin'? (Claps)

Go!

We just said, "Hey",

"let's get a bunch of our friends together

"and start a ska band," kind of as a joke.

Our friend Boyd who worked
at a wetsuit company,

he's like, "I got an idea."

"Let's be like Devo, we'll
all wear the same thing"

"and just be a silly ska band."

That's the beginning of The Aquabats.

It was a trip.

In The Aquabats, it was
such a different style.

It was more new-wave and experimental,

so many different styles.

We would play a punk rock song.

We would write a Latin song.

We would write a super new wave song.

We would write a surf song.

Anything goes.

Travis, he shows up.

He comes backstage and
I give him his costume.

He's like, "What's this?"

I'm like, "That's your costume."

"You wear a costume."

"On the record, we're wearing costumes."

He was like, "Really?"

"I didn't know that."

(chuckles) He was like super disappointed.

I'm like, "Yeah bro,
that's on the record."

He was like, "I thought
that was just a joke"

"for the record cover."

I'm like, "No, that's how we play."

He was like, "(sighs) Alright."

(muffled lyrics)

Personally I think after grunge,

we needed something to
make us feel better.

Kurt Cobain was the lead
singer of the group Nirvana.

Their albums were bestsellers;

Their songs filled with images
of despair and violence.

When Kurt Cobain killed himself,

No Doubt was like (vocalizes)
right around the same time.

I think that was more
of a cultural reaction

to a pendulum swing.

It's like heavy?

Let's lighten it up a little bit.

It seemed like ska
scene had that same angst

but with a certain amount
of tongue and cheek,

sarcasm, irony and fun.

Nobody ever said you could
be angry and have fun.

[Narrator] Many people were tired

of the heavy drone of grunge

or the hairspray and
testosterone of arena rock

or maybe people just finally caught on

to what had been happenin'
underground for a decade.

You hear on KROQ, you'd
start hearing Sublime.

You'd start hearing No
Doubt and you'd just go

how?

What is happening?

This is confusing.

("Date Rape" by Sublime)

The way it got on the
radio was grassroots

with the help of Tazy Phyllipz

and Jed the Fish in KROQ.

Once you put those songs on
the airwaves, it was magic.

It just did what these songs rarely do,

which is light up the switchboard.

Back then, that meant a lot.

I think it's like the
third most requested song

in the history of KROQ.

Date Rape was not really
Brad's favorite song

or the band's favorite
song, so it was bittersweet.

They were stoked to hear
themselves on the radio.

But then after that, it
was played so heavily

and brought recognition to 'em

at these small venues they
would attack all the time now.

New fans were there and
they were shouting out,

"Play Date Rape, play Date Rape."

After a while, it wasn't
their favorite song to play.

That's what you get right there, ska.

The power of ska in the
'90s because the single

for this golden cassette
release was Date Rape.

That was like wow, there's a song

with horn and skanking guitar.

That's crazy.

Whoa, something like our
scene is on the radio.

As one band started
kinda getting exposure,

it brought more outside exposure in.

Then Sublime was not the
easiest of bands to work with.

At what point do they
go is there another band

that we can deal with?

Oh Gwendoline.

(electric guitar strumming)

Where's she at?

Gwen Stefani from No Doubt.

Say what's up, alright?

Hi.

We were this local band who
had had this great super fun

eight or nine year long run
just having so many great shows.

(lively ska music)

They were like the big local band

for a really really really long
time before they ever broke.

Then suddenly at a rehearsal,

somebody runs in and
goes, "Did you guys see?"

"No Doubt from the cover of Bam Magazine."

Suddenly the thought and the reality

that's known now, that was
like the first day of it.

We didn't think that
anybody was gonna get huge.

When No Doubt got big, we were like wow.

Oh man, this is huge.

This is huge for them to get big.

All of us thought probably
just this one record

or just this one single.

We didn't expect anything like that.

No Doubt became huge.

Even though they weren't really
playing ska music as much,

you would see they have a video

and the guy's wearing a Madness shirt.

They're still showing their roots.

They were speaking to me in code.

I heard the ska in
there on Tragic Kingdom.

I'm like okay, you may
not be saying out loud,

but you're winking at all of us ska fans.

We know; We get it.

Could we talk about ska for a second?

Is there a revival happening
or is it just a coincidence?

I think it's a coincidence.

What do you guys think?

I think that ska will
remain underground.

(Gwen chuckling)

I don't know why.

But people who are into
the traditional ska,

don't really like the commercial aspect,

the commercial success
of it for some reason.

They wanna hold it back.

We just play whatever
music we feel like it.

If we throw in a ska song here and there,

it's all the same to us.

Right.

No limits here.

As we were having Don't Speak

came out as a huge pop hit
on all the pop stations,

they would always say ska band.

I always felt like in our
past we had been a ska band,

but I don't think Tragic
Kingdom was a ska album.

But still that tag got attached to us.

I imagine there may have been
a feeling amongst legitimate

ska bands in the scene we came out of.

This is exciting, but No Doubt's

not really a ska band anymore.

Suddenly all these elements
start coming together

with what's gonna happen.

I honestly to this day believe
they put the fear of success

in a lotta people's heads.

Ska has always been a
thing that was evolving.

I can't think of any other genre

that's been described in waves.

You know what I mean?

They call from third wave.

Obviously we're talkin' about
traditional ska from the '60s.

Desmond Dekker, Toots, and those guys.

The two-tone bands took
what the traditional bands

were doing, then added a
little punk rock at the time

like Ramones-esque.

Same thing, we're doin'
the two-tone kinda music

and mixin' it with a little
NOFX and Descendants in there.

That's what third wave is.

But it's just an evolution
out of this Jamaican music.

It feels kinda isolatish,

like you're isolating people
into different groups.

It's music, man.

This isn't fuckin' sports.

I think ska bands are
always holding their horns

in their promotional photos

because there's so many
dudes in the photo,

you wanna explain why that's happening.

People see three guys,
they're like a band.

Cool.

But if they see like 18 guys like,

they're gonna be confused.

Why is this photo in this
magazine of all these dudes?

If they're holding horns,
then they're ska bands.

(lively ska music)

I started in elementary school.

- Same.
- Same.

Elementary school band program,

- fourth grade.
- School bands.

Fourth grade.

Pick an instrument, fourth grade.

Saxophone looked cool.

Trombone looked cooler.

The trumpet has a smaller case.

You could actually carry it.

When you're in school
band, that's geeky.

When does it actually become cool?

Never.

You're playing jazz.

You're goin' like cool, I'm finally cool.

I'm in the seventh grade jazz band.

No, you're not cool.

All of a sudden the
band geeks had a place

to be in what was a really
vibrant, great indie music scene.

Seein' horn sections on MTV on videos

was a big deal for me
and other kids my age.

All of a sudden it was okay in my town

to have horns in your band.

It was actually cool.

Horn players becoming
cool because of ska

is kinda the only dark side to ska.

(Sascha chuckling)

'Cause horn players are not cool.

Yeah man, all of the horn
players are nerds. (Laughs)

They were the odd people
out that never were into punk,

scene or into ska punk.

They were just like I'm
gonna play in a band.

I literally only played alto sax

in my concert band and jazz band for this.

That kinda stuff.

Just hate for horn players.

No.

(Matt chuckling)

I got love.

- I got love for horn players.
- You're a horn player?

But you know what I'm talking about.

I hate trumpet.

When you're in high school,

what other musician friends do you know?

All the guys in marching band.

Your natural progression is
we're gonna be a ska band.

Literally was like oh, what do you play?

A flute?

Fuck, you could be in my ska band.

Who gives a shit?

Let's go.

Indie ska became the
more horns, the better.

(all vocalizing instruments)

So much horns, just chill.

(grunts) Drivin' me nuts.

You know what I mean?

There's other times where it's like man,

we need some horns or somethin'
and this song's boring.

We're playing a part
that's just as important

as a guitar part or a
local lead or whatever.

It's all part of it.

It turned out great.

Seriously, the music
just spoke for itself.

I think a lotta people
really got a lot out of it.

It was like they mattered.

I mattered; It was kinda crazy.

[Narrator] Many of the ska bands

in the '80s and '90s had a DIY ethic,

partly because ska and
punk were so intertwined

and punk was built on the
principle of doin' it yourself.

In the early 1990s, there was no internet

or at least not as we know it today,

so hearin' about new music
or learnin' about a new band

was largely word of
mouth or catchin' a band

at a ska show or readin' a zine.

Zines were frequently made by hand,

xeroxed, folded in half, stapled

and mailed to lists acquired at shows.

Some like Moon Records were
also catalogs of ska inventory.

Posters and flyers to advertise the shows

were also made by hand.

We'd go to the Kinko's Print Place

in the middle of the night,
cut and paste a flyer together

or draw somethin' and
make a bunch of copies,

then drive 'em to all the record stores.

Makin' your own flyers at Kinko's.

You drop the blue little cartridge.

You drop it on the floor and reset it,

so you could do it for free.

(lively ska music)

They're just like the original drawings.

When we were makin' our first shirt,

this is the front pocket
logo and the back.

We just did it ourselves.

Totally we were a really DIY band.

How do you get on a record label?

Call this record label. (Chuckles)

It wasn't like we're
DIY, we're super cool

or anything like that.

It was just literally no one
else is gonna do this for us

and we wanna do this.

Let's call up every bar on the east coast

and see if any of them will
let us play a show that night,

like that kinda thing.

The ska scene was kinda
different for everybody.

East coast ska and west coast ska

is totally different.

We tried our best to
instill an East Coast

versus West Coast kinda thing.

We wanted to start a rap battle,

have drive-bys and stuff
like that but it never took.

Can you imagine?

It would just be like
trombones beating each other,

like drive-by piccolos
or whatever. (Chuckles)

Really wouldn't work the same way.

The New York scene, it was poppin'.

There was tons of energy,
people were excited.

The kids were excited.

The bands were helping each other.

We were playing.

There was a lot of back and forth

with bands from Washington, from Boston.

Grand Rapids didn't really
have a ska scene at all.

No one knew.

The only people in Grand
Rapids that knew about ska

were the ones in our band.

If you were a ska fan,
you were in Mustard Plug.

If you didn't know how
to play an instrument,

it didn't matter.

You were in Mustard Plug.

We definitely stuck
out like a sore thumb.

Since the early '90s,
everybody was tryin' to sound

like Pearl Jam or
Soundgarden or somethin'.

Here we'd be sandwiched
between these bands.

(lively ska music)

(muffled lyrics)

Not without tooting our horn,

I think we helped create
a scene in Florida.

A local scene starts with a local band.

They were like, "Hey,
we're starting a ska band"

"and we're gonna play shows."

I was like, "I didn't know you
could start your own band."

You don't just have to listen to music

in your headphones or in your car.

You could actually be
in a room full of people

all enjoying the same music.

I wasn't cool.

I didn't know there was music scenes.

I thought we'd be playin' in the garage,

then some guy in a suit would
come in with a briefcase

and be like hey, you
guys want a record deal?

(clicks) Show me all his money.

I didn't know how it worked.

The scene was a big part of it for me

in Southern California.

It was during the mid-'90s,
it was so underground.

Most of the shows got shut down.

So many venues got closed.

They weren't even venues.

They were just places
you could have shows.

Someone would rent out a spot
and put up a PA or whatever.

Thinkin' about goin'
to a show by myself now,

I'd be like oh my god, scary.

Back then, I would just get
in my car and drive to a show.

Know that everybody I
knew was gonna be there.

It's a big deal for me
'cause I'm really awkward.

We'd play every show
no matter who it was

came to Detroit to play with them.

Some of those friendships
have lasted 'til now.

Less Than Jake, Skankin'
Pickle, all those guys.

We would start out in St. Louis.

We were right in the
center of the country.

Lots of touring bands would come through

and we got to be the biggest ska band

in our little area of St. Louis.

The Midwest was still about bein' wacky

and havin' fun a lot.

When you get to the east coast,

there's a lotta like awesome
musicians and more musicianship

with the bands and horns and everything.

They took it all a little more seriously.

I think bands on the east
coast were a little wary

of us silly West Coast bands.

The promoters,

there was a big jam band scene

and we started pushin'
the ska music on them.

It literally was always some younger guy

in the promoter office that was pushin'

the old school bigger promoters.

C'mon, we gotta try this music.

Ska's happenin'.

The other thing that was challenging

with booking these bands.

All of the other jam
bands and stuff like that,

they didn't care about an all-age crowd.

The promoters, that's
how they make their money

is by sellin' beer.

Skankin' Pickle and some of
these other bands came along

and they were just like,
no it's gotta be all-age.

We book a tour and '90% of
it would be all-age shows.

I'd bring 'em some club
show that was 21 and over.

They were just like nope, not doin' it.

Find somethin' else, I don't care.

We'll play in somebody's
garage if we have to.

It's gotta be all ages.

They pushed it and
pushed it and pushed it.

I think during that time, we
really changed the landscape

of the concert world in
pushing those all-age shows.

It was young people that really wanted

to make fun, danceable music.

You could feel that somethin'
special was happening.

There was an energy in
those shows that was palpable.

People were going crazy.

It was really fun, good time.

That was the goal.

How much fun can we have?

(crowd muffled shouting)

(lively ska music)
(muffled lyrics)

Now you're on both sides.

You have the band and you
have the record label.

Does that create a conflict for you?

I think the best way
to win a game of tennis

is to play both sides of the net.

Then records were sold,
over 1/2 million records.

Mostly outta my basement
before we had a storefront

in New York in the late '90s.

Moon Records was putting
out a lot of records,

so we gave a lot of bands
a chance to be heard.

I always called Moon the
Little Engine that Could

because we did a lot with nothing.

I think a lotta people
had an inflated sense

of what we were and what we're doing.

But for most of the Moon Records' career,

it was just me workin' outta my basement.

I was obsessed with mail order as a kid.

I used to put cash in an envelope,

which is exactly what my
parents told me not to do.

Then these record companies
would send me albums.

If they threw in an extra sticker,

it was the highlight of my life.

[Narrator] It was too risky
to bank on an unknown band

if you were a small label.

But puttin' out a
compilation with 12 bands

each supplyin' their best song
for the exposure of a label,

it just made sense.

Moon Ska, Jump Up, Asian Man,
Stubborn Records, Hellcat

all released compilations
of bands they represented.

Ska compilation CDs were
huge to the ska community.

CDs, it's a piece of plastic
that you put into this thing

and it spins really fast.

Compilation was such a way
to get a whole bunch of music

out to a bunch of different people.

To get all these different voices heard.

As a band, it was a
fantastic way to get exposure.

You would go to a town and
they would come just to hear

the one song that they'd
heard on a compilation.

In these comps where you call us up,

we just said yes to everything.

We didn't have any new songs.

Here, take the crappy version
of this off our demo tape.

Just take it.

But the thing was, it really
showed you there was way more

of this going on than you knew.

You didn't have a
podcast or a radio station

that was gonna expose
you to the new stuff,

but you might have a compilation CD

where 28 out of 36 tracks felt
like they changed your life.

("Time Bomb" by Rancid)

When I remember it really startin'

to cross over commercially,
I think it was like '95.

That was Rancid's song, Time Bomb.

It's on, it's happenin'.

This is a mainstream radio station

and they're playing a
straight-up ska song.

Celebrating.

The label's an independent label.

Somehow they crossed over
into commercial radio

when that was getting
really difficult to do.

They're a punk rock band that plays ska,

but they played some of the best ska.

I remember just being stoked

going holy crap, Rancid
is on the fuckin' radio.

That's nuts!

I guarantee you, even those
dudes probably were never like

we were gonna be on the
radio, you know what I mean?

Or we're gonna be the
clash of our generation.

I guarantee you they didn't
think that, but they are.

(energetic ska music)

[Narrator] Ska bands, unless
you signed to a big contract

just could not sustain
themselves financially.

Think about it: If venue booked
four or five bands a night,

but each of those bands had
to split the take of the door

five ways then divide up the cash

between seven or eight members each;

Then the trombone player would be lucky

to cover his own drinks.

You have be able to take
care of 'em 'cause money talks.

People will lie about
that or skip around that.

A lot of it's money, man.

You have to keep a band fed on the road.

When you're underground at all
with no radio play, no label,

it takes a special kinda person,
a special breed of person;

A special breed of wife or girlfriend

or whatever you got at home.

If you had a seven-piece band,

then this was your sole income.

It's too hard compared to being

in a three or four-piece band.

How is anyone gonna make money that way?

DJs are stoked.

(chuckles) Yeah, they are.

A ska band is the worst business model.

Anything divided by 10 is zero.

When you're young, you
never really think money.

It's like whatever what we make tonight.

You didn't care.

I remember always thinking like

if there were only four
of us in this band,

I'd be really doin' well.

I would probably be
the first one to go too

'cause I'm a horn player,
so I'm pretty thankful.

There has to be some kinda
passion beyond just the money.

For us, it's always been the fun.

It's been the fun.

Now that we've been a band for 20 years,

we're making more money than
we've ever made as a band.

But we're spending way more money on fun.

We spend hundreds and hundreds of dollars

on inflatable beach balls
and stupid stuff every show.

How can we have more fun?

How can we make it more fun for our fans?

For us, that's what it
keeps the Aquabats going.

I'm sure that's not the
answer that maybe our families

or our wives wanna hear.

Wait, you're how much?

What?

Cut that out.

I worked with really good bands.

I could call a promoter and say look,

you may not make a lotta
money on this show.

You might even lose a few bucks,

but it's gonna be a
really really good band.

I promise you.

I'm gonna keep them comin'
through your market.

We'll build the crowd.

If we can build that together,

then that's how this
whole scene is gonna grow.

I'd done enough time in retail

to know I never ever
wanna go back to that.

When they kept asking for us
to play shows, I'm like yes.

I just said yes to
everything and I still do.

We have that world's record.

We played 385 shows in 1996,

which was the most shows ever
played by a touring band.

Our first tour, we'd literally get

one hotel room for eight of us.

One hotel room.

Eight adult men in hotel room.

I would be like, "Guys",

"could we please get
two hotel rooms tonight?"

"Please."

We ate peanut butter and jelly.

We lived on $5.00 a day.

That's why I ate all those McDonald's.

That's when I learned that

when you have remanence of
seven people's Taco Bell.

People would go to throw
out their Taco Bell,

I'm like, "What are you doing?"

There's all those scraps right there

- and I would take the scraps.
- Oh man, I forgot that.

- Of seven people's Taco Bell.
- That's kinda disgusting.

- I'd forgotten.
- That's what I ate.

That's what all there was to eat.

- I forgot that you did that.
- I lived well on that.

But it was tough, man.

A lotta people in our band sucks.

You'd see a band like MxPx on
the Warped Tour in their van

and there's just three of 'em.

They're like...
Your own bench?

"Dude, they have their own benches.

"I have to sit next to this
guy for eight hours a day"

"all fuckin' summer long."

Fuck.

You're just like wow, this is great.

I can actually stretch my legs,

just 'cause we don't
have a trombone player.

It's interesting being the only female

in a band of eight guys because every guy

is gonna treat you different.

There's definitely the older brother guy

that is almost waiting for
someone to talk to you mean

so he can get in a fight for you.

There's the chivalrous ones

that when there is a couch,
they will give it to you.

Then there's the ones that are
gonna push you outta the way

and make sure they're just fair.

You have to almost work twice as hard

to prove that you're worthy of your space.

Reese, our lead singer, Reese Roper.

He's the only one that
always tells me I look pretty

and he still does it.

I think that comes from having a sister.

Then there's guys that don't wanna know

if it's that time of the month.

They're just avoiding me like the plague.

The more people you have,
the more chances of somebody

bein' like I think that's a stupid idea.

We should do this.

No.

On the road, you tend to
break down into factions.

The little groups of
people stick together.

Our horn players
would kinda be over here

if there was a fight goin' on.

These guys would be over here.

I could kinda join whichever
team I wanted to be on.

That's one of the nice
things about being in a band

that's got so many people.

We're like a bigger rat pack.

Who wants to go to a bookstore?

I do.

Who wants to go to the amusement park?

Hey, I'll go.

You don't get to just bro out

with four other guys from this band.

You get to bro out with 12 of them.

Yeah.

Then there's three ska
bands, so there's 35 of you.

You know what I mean?

It's definitely an instant party.

You're on the road with two ska bands.

If you go anywhere, you
pretty much own the place.

Everyone walks in and everyone
in the restaurant's like

what the fuck is goin' on?

What is all this?

Who are all these people?

We were on a tour with
Long Beach Dub All Stars

and Blink was also on that tour.

They had some issues with their drummer

and he had to go home
for some family thing.

Mark and Tom came to me and said,

"Dude before you play your
set with the Aquabats,

"can you come learn our set
or the show's not gonna go on."

"We're not gonna have a drummer."

He played our set.

Then he took off his costume
and he was like (vocalizes).

He killed it.

The other guys in our band were like,

"Ooh it's over," 'cause they could tell.

When I got the offer to play
with Blink, I told Christian.

That was honestly the hardest
thing was leaving them.

If I could've played in both bands

and stayed in both bands, I would have.

I was like, "There's no way, Travis."

"You won't join their band.

"There's no way."

"They have nothing in common."

(chuckles) I was wrong.

It emotional because they
really were my brothers.

If you start off something as a joke,

then pieces of your joke
become worldwide sensations.

It's a bit of a trip.

To keep up ska band's needs

requires a lot of love, yeah.

Love towards ska music.

Love towards each other.

Love towards band.

We need love.

I automatically assumed that
we didn't have a lot of love

from the punk scene

because we were just too happy.

It was oil and water.

You couldn't blend these
two to save your life,

let alone the people in the crowd.

But after all these people
started seeing the bigger picture

and started finding ways to
connect the two, they now do.

Most people when they
first heard the music,

I heard it out loud, "That's not ska!"

"That's not ska!"

Okay.

The purists, the
traditionalists that were like

if it doesn't sound like two-tone

or if it doesn't sound
like The Skatalites,

we don't want anything to do with it.

Yeah, they weren't as into

some of the pseudo-punky ska
combo, which is what we were.

When you're a kid, you're not gonna wait

until you know every single
thing about this genre of music.

Let's just do it, woo!

Are there horns?

You just do, woo!

We're makin' ska music.

That's not ska music.

Yeah, it is.

No.

No?

No.

We didn't really notice it
until we started heading out

on the road and doing little jaunts.

Get to San Francisco
where you've got some real

two-tone kids who were like,
"The fuck are you doin'?"

"What is this fuckin' shit?"

There's a glam rock element
in Reel Big Fish too

that people were not necessarily
on board with right away.

Yeah, there was definitely
some elitist stuff goin' on.

People that only wanted
to listen to two-tone

and no heavy guitars, just upstroke stuff.

You had the ska punk purist.

Is this band ska punk
or is this band punk?

That stuff was goin' on.

I tried to do this to a lot of it

because I didn't feel by
playin' with any band,

we were hurting anybody or anything.

If you didn't like it, you didn't like it.

[Narrator] But sometimes
a crowd could turn.

One minute, everyone would
be singin' along in unity

while skankin' to the horns.

The next minute, there'd
be a fight breakin' out.

It was usually someone
who had too much to drink

or worse, a racist who somehow
found a way into a ska show.

Ska stood for racial unity.

Black and white together side-by-side.

Bands did not stand for it.

Nazi skins had no place in ska.

There was this time where all these guys

would come to the show with shaved heads.

They'd just run in circles
and punch everybody.

I don't know what that was about.

That was a bummer.

We played some dangerous
shows in the '90s

where skinheads would show up

and police in riot gear would come.

We used to stop mid-song
when there was a fight

and say, "We're not gonna play anymore"

"until you guys stop
it or take it outside."

I don't know why that's a thing

goin' to ska shows and fighting.

But I've seen more fights at Hepcat shows

than I've seen at any death metal show

or whatever weird show I've been to.

[Narrator] In 1995, The
Mighty Mighty Bosstones

played during a club scene in
the blockbuster hit Clueless.

Dicky Barrett's snarl, Ben Carr's skank,

and the world was introduced
to this brand of ska.

Boston's ska-core, the next
big thing was finally here

and audiences like what they heard:

The corky, fun, fast music

that was described as punk with horns.

The impact of The Mighty Mighty Bosstones'

appearance on Clueless
helped to bring attention

to all ska bands.

Like they say, "A risin'
tide lifts all boats."

We didn't wanna be portrayed
as a fad or something.

Back to the Beach had just come out.

Fishbone was one of our favorite bands.

Looking back on it now, it was kinda cool.

But at the time, it was kind of a drag

seein' them dancin' around
with Annette Funicello.

Do you girls know how to Jamaica ska?

Jamaica what?

But I think to the young Bosstones,

we thought it was pretty lame.

But the fact that Amy
Heckerling was making it,

who had done Fast Times of Ridgemont High,

made us feel a lot more comfortable.

Also we had gotten into some tax trouble.

We were like, "Yeah, we can do this movie."

"We can pay off our taxes."

For us, it was a lotta money.

It ended up being pretty
awesome, cool and fun.

Some of the guys in the band still get

royalties from that movie. (Chuckles)

When you say ska, people
say one of three things.

They'll say, "Ska, what's that?"

"What did you say?"

Ask you to repeat it.

They'll say, "Ska," and they'll laugh

because they think it's this novelty

that fizzled out in the '90s

or they'll say ska and they'll get it.

They'll know it and they'll
love it just like you do,

then those are your people.

(lively ska music)

Anybody know anything about ska music?

Anybody know how to pick it up?

Yeah, kind of from my growing up.

Okay, what ska bands come to mind?

They sing this famous
song, impression that I get.

What bands come to mind
when you think ska music?

The Mighty Mighty
Bosstones, Reel Big Fish.

Reel Big Fish.

Everyone knows Reel Big Fish.

We can go for that.

Do you know any Reel Big Fish songs?

Yeah.

Could you sing one for us?

Will you sing one with me?

Sure.

♪ Called me late last night ♪

♪ To say she loved me so ♪

♪ Didn't matter anymore ♪

♪ Said she never cared
that she never will ♪

♪ Do it all again ♪

That's the second verse.

Do you have a familiarity with ska music?

Yes, I do.

Back in the '90s, I came
down to a number of ska shows

from all over the village,
like The Skatalites.

I met the Ska Police.

Oh man, The Slackers.

How 'bout you guys?

Oh yeah, I was in a
band called Reel Big Fish.

I was in the band for 17 years
and don't remember the words.

Hello, what's up?

'Cause there was a big
resurgence of ska in the '90s.

I did a lotta drugs, so I
don't remember a lot of that.

Thank you so much.

- Nice to meet you.
- Nice to meet you as well.

I already forgotten your name.

Scott and Makayla, yes?

Scott, Makayla.

Reel Big Fish, not Reel Big Fish.

(muffled crosstalk)

[Aaron] You're crazy.

I wouldn't drive that.

(mumbles) play. (Claps and laughs)

- Oh boy.
- Are you sorry?

(mumbles) course.

We got lucky.

We were in the right
place at the right time.

Holy shit. (Chuckles)

That was the first
band ever that I insisted

I needed to help try and get them signed.

I brought them to Mojo Records.

I used to work at
Subway, sandwich place.

Then one of those nights,

we played one of those really big shows.

This huge crowd was
singin' along to my songs.

I had to work at Subway.

I had to be there at like
8:00 the next morning.

I got up, no way.

I'm a rockstar now.

I quit Subway the next day

and I was really broke for like a year,

(chuckles) but it worked out.

Yay.

Let's Go Bowling,
Reel Big Fish, Daddies,

we all crammed into a hotel room

waiting for Reel Big
Fish's video to come on.

They played, we yell yeah!

We got drunk and the whole thing.

That was exciting.

That was like in the movies

where everybody's like yeah, you're on TV.

We're all dancin' around.

Then almost immediately,
it was just (vocalizes).

They're just huge.

They just had this funness about them.

It was infectious.

- And roll camera.
- We're good to go.

Three and action.

(crowd cheering)

(balloons popping)

- Oh hi.
- Start over.

My name's Monique.

I'm in a band called Save Ferris.

♪ Yeah ♪

♪ Hey hey hey hey ♪

♪ Hey hey hey hey ♪

(Monique vocalizing)

♪ I was sittin' and waitin' ♪

♪ Just thinkin', contemplatin' my life ♪

♪ When I heard the phone ♪

I came into the ska world mostly because

I grew up in the center.

We kinda call it ground zero
for the third wave of ska,

which was in Orange County
in Southern California.

(cat meowing)

Is this distracting?

I wasn't a scene kid

until probably my freshman year of college

because I was studying opera.

I knew this is where I need to be.

I'm in the right place at the right time

and I better take advantage of this.

Back then there was no
internet or cellphones

like it is now, so you
kinda once in a while

you'd talk to somebody at
home and they would say,

"You guys are getting played
on the radio every 20 minutes."

We would just be like, "Cool."

I'm in Oklahoma at a burger joint.

We were disconnected from what
was really happening at home.

For me as a woman, seeing
No Doubt and Save Ferris.

That was really cool.

It felt like women were
invited to the party.

Your audience was 50% girls,

so it didn't ever feel like

you were the lone girl in the room.

Me and Elyse, we have our
whole act together on stage.

The whole band sorta comes
alive when they're on stage.

♪ I don't wanna go ♪

I loved Dance Hall Crashers.

Oh my god, they were like everything.

♪ Began with a mistake ♪

♪ I didn't know what was at stake ♪

Being a woman in the scene you get.

It's the door people and the sound guys

that think you're like the
backup dancer or the groupie.

There's been times I haven't
been able to get into a club

I'm headlining at because
they just don't believe me.

Especially if I'm dressed
up ready to go on stage

and I'm coming from outside,
they just don't believe you.

They just think you're a groupie.

"No, I actually gotta be
on stage in five minutes.

"If you don't let me in,
the show's not gonna go on"

"and you're gonna be fucked."

There weren't a lot of
women in bands at that time

in ska bands or in the scene.

I looked different from everybody else.

I'm a size 12, I wear sexy dresses.

I've told an entire audience
of men to fuck off. (Chuckles)

You're just gonna have to fall
in love with me, I'm sorry.

I know I'm different, but here I am.

I had a little bit more meat on my bones

and I had to sell it.

All I wanted to do was sing.

Selling myself was a means to be able

to get on stage and sing.

I also felt the responsibility
to the girls in the audience

who felt different like me,
but inside I was so sensitive.

I look back on those videos.

I'm like you look good,
little Mo. (Chuckles)

You look so pretty.

Now the curtain has gone up
on another unique attraction,

ska music.

The scene was taking off so rapidly.

Then ska exploded.

We all got famous.

Then people started getting signed.

Reel Big Fish got signed to
a big label, Save Ferris did.

When labels go after a certain sound,

it's really happening.

A lotta major labels signed
ska bands at the time.

Couldn't believe it.

It was on a answerin' machine.

I remember comin' home, I was
deliverin' pizzas at the time.

"Yeah, (mumbles) from Capitol."

I'm like who's pullin' our leg here?

This isn't real.

That guy followed us
around for eight months

tryin' to sign the band.

Around this time, Suicide
Machines got signed.

Goldfinger got signed.

To us, there was such a stigma in the '90s

about you can't be on this label.

You can't sell out.

To us, we had to be on
Fat Records or Epitaph.

We had rejection letters
from both of those labels.

We were like they don't want
us, but this label does?

What's this guy hearin'
that they don't hear?

We started playing to a larger audience

and there was less
skanking in the audience,

but the love was still there.

It was nice because we were
able to spread the love to

other people that weren't into ska.

We introduced them maybe to something new.

Clever and energetic.

I don't think I can keep up with them.

- That's good music though.
- Toe tap.

[Narrator] Ska was startin'
to get radio airplay.

Radio executives called
it fresh and different.

Ska was now heard in Akron, Ohio.

Jackson, Wyoming and
Wheeling, West Virginia.

How you doin'?

Carson Daly, MTV Skaturday.

I'm your tour guide to
the music known as ska.

Ska is a type of music that
has its origins in Jamaica.

The music enjoyed its biggest
popularity in the '80s

with bands like The Specials,
The English Beat and Madness.

Yet a handful of ska-influenced bands

are flourishing on today's pop charts.

[Narrator] The song
Sell Out by Reel Big Fish

was all over the radio
pokin' fun of themselves

for makin' money off the
once underground DIY,

distribute-from-your-basement genre.

♪ Sell out ♪

♪ With me, oh yeah ♪

♪ Sell out ♪

♪ With me tonight ♪

♪ The record companies only
give me lots of money ♪

♪ And everything's gonna be alright ♪

What's funny about
a song called Sell Out

being a big hit on the radio and MTV?

The record label had
a good sense of humor.

Then it just became weird 'cause
I'd be drivin' in the car,

listenin' to the radio,
Sell Out would come on.

Be flippin' through TV channels.

Sell Out would be on MTV.

If you think I'm awkward
now, imagine seein' that.

Weird.

But yeah, that was crazy.

That was like in movies
where there's the montage

of they're playin' a small show,

then they get bigger and bigger.

They pan up the charts,
goin' to number one.

Ticket sales.

There was like money in
the background falling.

In the movies, it was like that.

- Who are you here to see?
- Mighty Mighty Bosstones.

Bosstones, baby!

Woo!

The Mighty Mighty Bosstones
finally had a gigantic hit.

(mumbles) back.

Ladies and gentlemen, Let's Face It

is the new album from my next guest.

Please give a nice welcome to
The Mighty Mighty Bosstones.

(audience cheering)

Like whoa, the Bosstones on the radio?

This is awesome.

Is the radio starting to become awesome

or is it just the Bosstones are so awesome

that they couldn't say no anymore?

I think it might've been
a little bit of both.

I don't know. (Chuckles)

They had been an underground success

for a long period of time and
had put out lots of records

that a lotta the people I knew liked.

But then they really broke
wide and had the MTV airplay.

It's just a whole different level.

Every time a person
that I get would come on,

I'd be like, "That's a good song."

"They deserve this."

Then Sell Out would come on, oh my god!

My band sucks.

For us, it was just such a steady climb.

Even when we had the hit on the radio,

we felt like what took so long?

There was never really a moment

where we were like an overnight success.

Maybe to a lotta people we were

because of the hit song,

radio and being number one
on MTV for a whole summer.

Durin' that time when it
was just startin' to hit,

that's when you really started realizing.

It was like whoa, shit.

So much excitement, so
many people come to shows

who never heard of this
type of music before.

Shows went from 100
people to all of a sudden

it was like 400 people.

It wasn't like the weird people
who like music in school.

It was like everybody at school.

The cheerleaders, the jocks.

Everybody's comin' to these shows.

It was crazy.

You'd arrive at the shows
and people are there.

They're really happy to see you.

We were sellin' 100 CDs a night.

It was crazy.

It was mayhem.

Everything ska was movin' off the shelf.

I don't know how many records they sold.

I don't care, don't know.

I'm sure I should have a gold record

I should be doing cocaine in my bathroom.

Who knows how many records
they've sold, I don't know.

Yeah, we got really famous.

You've heard of this Reel Big Fish.

This is what is called the gold record.

In the old days, people
used to pay money for music.

If enough people paid
money for your music,

you'd get one of these

to commemorate 1/2 million,
a million, 10 million.

This is the lowest amount
you can sell to get a thing.

You had got exposed to a lotta people

that didn't hear your
music on this TV show

or that movie or this video game.

You had kids getting introduced to ska

by playing Tony Hawk video games.

The video game came
out, they gave us a copy.

I played it in the back of the bus

on tour every day, all day.

There was literally times where
our tour manager had to say,

"Darrin, you're on stage in half an hour."

I'm like, "Yeah, cool."

"Darrin, you're on stage in 15 minutes."

"Yeah yeah yeah, cool."

"Darrin, you're on stage right now."

I'm like, "Fuck."

I paused the game, put it down.

The whole time I'm playin',

I'm thinkin' I gotta
get back to that game.

Still to this day, I get people
comin' up to me and saying,

"Because of that video game,

"Goldfinger and Superman
introduced me to ska.

"Thank you."

"I didn't know these bands existed."

No one at the time would
really think a video game

would be that big of a
marketing tool for a band.

Tony Hawk picks the song,
decided to put it in there

and it changed the whole
trajectory for our band.

Thank you, Tony Hawk.

You're welcome.

You get mileage out of the
weirdest things that you did.

There's people now that
have come to the shows

because they realized that the band

in the Good Burger movie is us.

♪ I'm a dude ♪

♪ He's a dude ♪

♪ She's a dude ♪

♪ We're all dudes, hey ♪

♪ I'm a dude ♪

Welcome to Good Burger,
home of the Good Burger.

Can I take your order?

♪ Less Than Jake ♪

Why is their band blowing up and not us?

Must be something the label is doing.

No, you don't understand the dynamic.

They're in the right
place at the right time.

Some bands got lucky and zoomed
up to the next stratosphere

through whatever combination of events.

Some bands, they should've done different.

But that's just the nature of the beast.

There were a lotta bands on the radio

that were ska, but not that many.

The ones that didn't make it,

there's a lot of sour
grapes and bad jealousy.

Screw them, they're sellouts. (Gags)

I think what the fans do,
you have your precious scene

of your friends that you
go to all these shows

and they're your bands.

Then suddenly every asshole at school

that you hate is listening to 'em too.

I get it.

I know how it feels to be on both sides.

Everybody suddenly had
these splitting ideas.

Some thought No Doubt
did it, we should get it.

Other wanted to kinda back
away from the spotlight.

Listening to No Doubt or the Bosstones,

it's like radio pop rock.

Yes they fall under the umbrella of ska,

but they're just two different things.

If anything, I thought
what's good for the goose

is good for the gander.

People will hear the word ska,
they'll be more open to it.

I thought it was good over all,

but it was also like

you're doin' something
completely different.

We're riding a Moped and
you're drivin' a Cadillac.

Checkers equals ska.

Race cars too?

It was like unity and races
adding black and white together.

That's why the black and white checkers

kinda became a thing of ska.

A symbol.

Actually, that wasn't so overt as to say

here's a symbol of racial unity.

It was some tape that Jerry
Dammers had on his scooter,

but still today we can
embrace the symbolism.

Ska for me has always been a thing

that no matter what the
subject matter in the song is,

it's a very uplifting experience.

You can sit there and
say it's happy, fun music.

But to be honest with you,

it was really important
socially how it started.

Then we fucked it up here in America.

There is a philosophy
that comes with ska.

Well it's for two-tone

and that was the unification of mankind.

Black folks, white folks
and hues in between

came together around an idea,

an idea that had a
definite political root.

Political overtones of
ska were lost in the '90s.

Especially the ska we're talking about,

that we morphed it into.

You're talkin' about
suburban kids being goofy,

having a release; Completely different.

They made it this silly party music.

But historically, ska was very cortical.

It's the most important
part to me of the music.

I think in the '90s it
wasn't as clear of a message

as I would like it to have been,

but Mike Park was doing it very
well and The Bosstones were.

There definitely people
that were promoting that

as a big part of their message.

Unity, togetherness,
getting each other's back.

Inclusiveness, racial harmony.

These were big things.

1998, I put together the
Ska Against Racism tour.

That was in direct response to my feeling

that ska was being looked
at as this corny sound

or music or movement.

It was like let's put some
politics back into ska.

More than anything, we just
wanted the word against racism

on a marquee and people talkin' about it.

A very famous singer one time said,

"I can't change the world,"

"but I can change the world around me."

What that means is each
one of you guys up front,

all the way in the back
and everyone over here,

we gotta start being non-hatred
against other peoples.

Ska equates to unity to me.

That's what I loved about it

'cause you had black,
white, Mexican, Asian.

We were all in one room.

We were all there for one
reason and that was to skank.

Nobody was against anyone
for that moment in time.

Even to this day, you
see that in the scene

where everyone's comin' together

no matter what race, color or creed.

I'll tell you, music needs more of that.

Music needs more of that.

This world needs more of that.

[Narrator] Many ska bands
never signed big contracts.

They did however enjoy
some pretty decent rotation

from college radio or
independent stations.

Shows, those were always
a sellout in a good way.

Hepcat, Buck-O-Nine, The
Pietasters, The Suicide Machines,

The Toasters, The Slackers, (mumbles)

All headlined cross-country shows

that were filled to capacity.

American ska in the
1990s was a million miles

from its Jamaican roots,
but it still sounded good.

It still brought many fans
to explore the origins.

Ska in all forms experienced popularity.

Some for the first time.

Some for the first time in 40 years.

Ska made itself a trend.

While some people had long
hope for that one ska song

to break and pave the way for others,

some said it would be the nail in a coffin

or better yet, a time bomb.

The over-saturation
of ska punk happened.

We watched it happen.

We watched it just go (vocalizes).

Then everybody with a
horn decides to form a band.

People are like

what is this?

We went from havin' 20
bands to havin' 1,000 bands.

That's the way I saw it happen.

We played with bands that
popped up like a week ago.

Almost too many shows or too many bands.

I do think some of that started happening.

We play these small towns,
especially in the Midwest.

There would be every night on
tour was like a ska festival

where there'd be six or seven
local ska bands opening up.

You just suffer through it.

Everyone's playing
so fast and high energy

that you kinda wear out the audience

before the headliner even comes on.

Some bands are bloody awful. (Laughs)

Marching bands like brass
players couldn't play so well.

They put like six ska bands on a night.

I'd get ska'd out.

I went back to my hotel room

and listened to some Johnny Cash. (Laughs)

That's fine 'cause there's a lotta

bad music in every genre.

But for some reason,
people really zeroed in

on the bad ska music
when it was happening.

Major labels were in some ways

making ska almost a parody of itself.

Anytime you do that, it just destroys it

so that underground base is gone.

People are like I don't wanna
be part of this anymore.

[Narrator] By the time the
new millennium approached,

ska was already on its way out.

Ska bubble had burst.

Oh boy, what happened?

If we only knew,

we could make a documentary
about it. (Chuckles)

I don't know.

I don't know.

It really got dorky.

They made it look like a flash in a pan.

Ska band, we're wacky and then done.

The way it exploded is the way it died.

It was like one day it was
all there, then it was gone.

Shows went from being
thousands back to being hundreds.

All of a sudden nu metal was cool.

It was like Deftones, Limp Bizkit.

Ska is not cool.

Like '99 was like (vocalizes),

nobody went to ska shows.

This is terrible 'cause
here's the pendulum swing.

It's like aah, then wee.

Now it's back to (vocalizes)
in a different way.

What typically happens when
something gets really popular

is the record companies come in,

they pick a couple of the bands

and those are the bands
that get all the glory.

They were sellin' the humor, the fun

to party, to have a good time.

That's how they sold ska.

They didn't show it as they
would've put a rock band.

C'mon when they market
a rock band like U2,

these dudes have great
lyrics, great sounds.

Then you'll have someone
else that could be funny.

You could have that.

You could have everything,

but they only showed one side
of ska which was letdown.

Some of that stuff was a
little disappointing to me

'cause it was like this is
like a frat party gone wild

or whatever and it's like no it's not.

It's not frat party.

This is fuckin' ska show.

This ain't none of that.

The approach to ska music in the '90s

was like that game you play at parties

where you tie a blindfold on somebody.

You give 'em a pin, they gotta
pin the tail on the donkey.

Where do you think ska
music is on the donkey?

Where are these record execs

with pinning the ska tail?

It was nowhere in the correct place,

so we had all these pretty lame pop bands

being labeled established and
they really weren't at all.

♪ All around the world
statues crumbled for me ♪

Then it sort of got blurry.

There were bands that
you didn't really know

if they were ska or what they were.

They were just a big band with horns.

Then there was a brief
10 seconds of swing.

♪ Zoot Suit Riot ♪

♪ Riot ♪

Then they became emo.

The music industry was
geared towards churring up

these new trends every few years.

Few years later, people aren't
buying ska music like that.

Not only that, people aren't buying music.

Oh Napster, people are stealing music.

No one's gonna buy your records anymore.

You're gonna have to tour a lot

if you wanna keep doing this.

It was a bittersweet moment.

But I think realistically,
the concept was adapt or die.

Hello, friends!

It's silly and sexy sells,

but silly can also sell
if you package it right.

My thought was if we could get a TV show

and do a kid's show, we
could still play music.

We can still tour.

We can still do basically
essentially what we're doing,

but we just have to make
a TV show during the day.

I was watching TV with my daughter

and still thinking about the Aquabat Show.

What if we just did
something a little younger?

Something for my family
like packaging cool music,

good art, visuals and stuff we like

into something for younger kids.

That's where Yo Gabba Gabba! Came out of.

After it peaked and it went back down,

once again we're like we're
the weirdos that play ska.

It felt like puttin'
on comfy pair of shoes

when it got not popular again for us.

I think at one point, there's definitely

a backlash against the movement.

If you were in a ska band,
you had to be a little tough

because everyone thought you
were the weak kid on the block.

We would go to these
places where hardcore bands

are playing or screamo or emo,

whatever genre's flowin' through.

You have to stand up there

and be like I'm in a ska
band and I'm gonna play.

The great thing about
ska is with punk rock

there's always gonna be a subculture

in a scene for what we do.

But a lotta bands at the time

were puttin' out their
second record or whatever

and kinda brushin' the horns aside,

droppin' 'em altogether saying
no, we're rock with horns

or no, we're a rock band.

Whatever.

There were a lotta ska bands

that would kinda reconfigure things

to become an emo band or whatever.

It was a really strange time.

I don't know that I can
fault somebody for that

if they played in a band
called Skankilicious

'til you dropped, then the next year

decided they weren't into that anymore.

There was a time where
there was no choice.

You had to turn your back on ska

because the superficial construct of ska

was so commercialized and overblown.

Every Food Network song was
a ska, Reel Big Fish copy.

Every Target commercial was a bouncy,

another Reel Big Fish copy.

When it becomes the
mainstream sell bullshit

with no consciousness of a subgenre

that people felt real ownership of,

I don't blame anybody at that time

for turning their back to it.

Because you weren't playing ska anymore,

you were playing Food Network music.

I'ma tell you what's crazy, dude.

America creates all this good music,

then they forget about it.

Then the surrounding countries pick it up

in its rawest, most
richest form and keep it.

(Jose speaking foreign language)

(Tsuyoshi speaking foreign language)

I never would've thought my music,

they'd listen to it in
Venezuela or they listen to it.

How did they get it?

That I would say is a
benefit of the technology

and the internationality of the music.

Other countries I felt a lotta times

kind of appreciated the
music a little bit more.

I think they appreciated
like horns being in music.

(Enrique speaking foreign language)

(Tsuyoshi speaking foreign language)

(Jesus speaking foreign language)

I never dreamt we would
go any further than getting

onto some decent opening
slots in Orange County,

much less getting to go.

We went to Tasmania.

You ever heard of someone
who went to Tasmania?

I went to Tasmania.

Our first time in Japan,

this crowd is sitting on the floor.

All just sittin' on the floor
Indian style before the show.

I was thinkin' to myself,
this is gonna fuckin' suck.

They sit down at shows here.

Showtime comes and we walk up on stage.

The whole thing, boom.

Everybody jumps to their feet,

just (vocalizes) right up to
the barricade of the stage

and are just into it
fuckin' from the beginning.

Then I go to start to sing the first line

and they all know the
words, like every word.

I was so floored that
luckily they were singing

'cause I got fuckin' choked up.

I was like (inhales).

It was the most amazing
feeling I've ever had

'cause you're halfway around the world.

People are just fuckin'
losin' their minds.

From that point, it was just like

we're never gonna stop doing this.

This is so awesome that that was it.

It was the sound that was so big,

that of course it was the
sound that was out of fashion

as soon as it crashed.

It's kind of the sound that
needed to vanish for a while

for people to appreciate
that it's been gone.

It's funny that in the time
period that it kinda vanished.

In many ways Anglo-American scene,

you saw the Latin
American scene run with it

in a way that I could've never imagined.

In 2007 was when we had
our first festival in LA.

We had close to 3,000 kids.

It's this whole generation
that grew up loving ska music

and especially bands
like Voodoo Glow Skulls.

It's so big sometimes,

a lotta the kids are even too young.

They're like who are these old dudes?

People that are 16 years
old that might not know,

it's like why are my dads up on stage?

Some of these bands only sing in English

and they hardly know English,
but they're singing in English

because the ska punk in the States

has influenced them in that way.

(Horacio speaking foreign language)

This underground ska scene
in the Latino community

is just amazing.

You see the mosh pits out there.

It's a lotta kids and they're dressed up.

It makes me feel like
this music has not died.

It's not goin' anywhere.

Let's go interview some of
the kids, the youth of today.

When you're young and you start a band,

you don't really think
where's this road taking me?

How long am I gonna be in this band?

Then 20 years later you think,

wow this has affected my whole life.

I pretty much painted
myself into a corner.

What am I doing?

You keep playing in the band
because that's all you have

or you get a job workin' at
the taco shop, who knows?

But when you start a band,

you don't think about those things.

You're just doing it for some reason.

If it's for the money
or it's to meet chicks

or for the fame, that
stuff it's always fleeting.

But if it's for something deeper

like you really love having
fun or making people happy

or you really love the music,

I think that's what keeps people
doing things that they do.

That's why we keep doin' the Aquabats.

We love it.

We love playing music.

We love making people
happy, making kids dance

and knowing that we're spoiling
it for all the other bands.

Kids are comin' to see us play.

My first band was Aquabats
and they did this.

Then this monster came
out, these balloons.

Then I went and saw that other band

and they played their songs.

When they dropped off,

everybody said this is the end.

But The Slackers kept playing,
Pietasters kept playing

and the Toasters kept playing.

Fishbone kept playing.

There were younger bands
who were coming up,

playing and carrying the torch.

There's some of the best ska bands

I've ever heard that
are playing right now.

It's always gonna be
the craze or no craze,

but the craze was good. (Chuckles)

It was a good time.

When you go to a ska show you're like,

wow I want all of this; This is amazing.

When you're a kid who
doesn't know anything

and you don't have any judgements,

I get misty-eyed thinkin' about it

because you're 14, 15 years old

and it's a place of acceptance.

I guarantee you there's kids
that go to ska shows today

are like I want all of
this just like I do.

We could do an interview and
one of the standard questions

is what's your secret?

How do you do it?

How are you still doin' so well?

How do you keep those
crowds comin' to the shows?

Well try to play the songs they like.

What's wrong with that?

We wanna be an active band
and continue making songs.

It's fun, but we also know we
have this catalog behind us

that we wouldn't have to
record another song ever.

We have enough songs that
people have memories attached to

that we could go play, so
it's a good position to be in.

They say nostalgia referrin'
to myself all the time

'cause bring it on.

To me it's an awesome word,
but some people will be like,

I wanna be the current band.

Well, good luck.

Being Reel Big Fish,
there's the ska thing

that happened in the
'90s, but there's also

now it's a nostalgia for '90s music.

Since we were on the radio
and stuff in the '90s,

there's people that
like I love '90s music.

I love Britney Spears, Limp Bizkit,

Sugar Ray, Reel Big Fish,
Nirvana and Right Said Fred.

Backstreet Boys, Hanson
and Marilyn Manson.

'90s music, you know?

I think right now because
the pull of the '90s explosion,

that tide is pulled back so far

that young listeners 16 and 17

don't really even know what it was.

It's in the history books.

When ska hits again this next time,

for them it's gonna be the first time.

A new band could come out right now

and they wouldn't like
eww you're a ska band.

It's like oh cool, what
kinda music is this?

Can you tell me about it?

You guys are awesome.

[Narrator] Ska's more popular than ever

in countries like Mexico,
Japan and all over Europe.

In America, ska still has
fiercely loyal following.

Now more than ever, the
world'll be a better place

with just a little more ska.

(lively ska music)

If you would've asked
me about three years ago

what the future of ska was, I would say

the future of ska is all of
us getting out our old CDs,

showing our kids and
dancing in the living room

about the good old days.

That's what I would've thought

because I thought those days were over.

But I think it has moved
past TJ Maxx commercials

and being played in department stores.

I think that people are gonna
start picking up horns again.

There's like so much darkness

in the world and so many problems.

We need a place to be able to go

and feel like I felt when I was 17,

goin' to Reel Big Fish
shows and just being okay.

We felt like everything was
gonna be okay in the world.

Woo! (Screams)

♪ All my friends get 'em altogether ♪

♪ I was gonna go and start a band ♪

- Ska never went away.
- It never went away.

It just dips in and
out of the mainstream.

Yeah for us,

we started a ska band in 2011.

If we're gonna make music,
why can't it be somethin'

that is somethin' that feels like home?

Ti's never been about
tryin' to get on the radio

or anything, it's just about...

- What feels right to us.
- Yeah.

♪ I'm a match ♪

♪ She kerosene ♪

♪ You know she gon' burn down everything ♪

♪ She's an arsonist in her past life ♪

♪ And I've been burned for the last time ♪

That circles back to
havin' a place to go.

Somethin' you can listen to
that makes you feel less alone.

Yup.

For me, the whole thing
was about finding community

and a place to belong.

Living in Southern California,

you don't realize how fortunate you are

to have as much at your disposal.

When you go to small little towns

and you play some crazy
little community center

that holds 25 kids, they're
in this little small town

and nobody brings these
disenfranchised youth anything

'cause they're the weird kid in town.

They see them come, dance
and feel uninhibited.

I don't know, that's beautiful

'cause that was the real takeaway

from the entire ska
music experience for me.

It's like I got to make a difference.

Fuck money, fuck fame.

Make a difference.

None of that shit fuckin' matters

if it doesn't connect to something human.

(lively ska music)

♪ All I have to do ♪

(muffled lyrics)

♪ Baby don't you sign that
paper tonight she said ♪

♪ But I can't work in
fast food all my life ♪

The end.

(chuckles) Credits roll.

("This Gigantic Robot Kills" by MC Lars)

♪ Billy built a robot
in his parents' garage ♪

♪ Because he had a list of problems ♪

♪ That he needed to solve ♪

♪ He said I'm sick of the Hills ♪

♪ Laguna Beach is fake and whack ♪

♪ Let's party like it's '96 and
bring the horn section back ♪

♪ Back before Gwen Stefani
started rappin' with Pharrell ♪

♪ Gas cost 1.15 and
Goldfinger could sell ♪

♪ When reality TV wasn't
scripted or contrived ♪

♪ The brass was phat and bumpin' ♪

♪ And the beats were all played live ♪

♪ See Billy was obsessed
with third wave ska ♪

♪ The Mighty Bosstones, Reel
Big Fish, Less Than Jake ♪

♪ He'd seen 'em all ♪

♪ He longed for a time when even
Bill Clinton played the sax ♪

♪ On the White House lawn ♪

♪ And kids wore shades
and checkered slacks ♪

♪ So Billy sits back in
the class and laughs ♪

♪ Put a notebook on his lap
'cause he plans a task ♪

♪ To make a giant robot ♪

♪ How's that ♪

♪ And bring the real Orange County back ♪

♪ This gigantic robot kills ♪

♪ He's gonna come down the block ♪

♪ He's gonna fire at will ♪

♪ He's got a cannon on his shoulder ♪

♪ And a laser in his hand ♪

♪ He's gonna win the day for Billy ♪

♪ Make the city understand ♪

♪ The robot was completed
and it opened up its eyes ♪

♪ Weighing 700 pounds and
standing eight foot five ♪

♪ With his black coat, white shoes ♪

♪ Black hat set to attack ♪

♪ The robot headed to the hills ♪

♪ To give those spoiled kids a smack ♪

♪ Christoph Leary got knocked flat ♪

♪ As Billy bumped the Aquabats ♪

♪ He ripped out Mischa Barton's spine ♪

♪ To crank Save Ferris and Sublime ♪

♪ He burnt down Heidi Montag's home ♪

♪ To blast the OC Supertones ♪

♪ His scream was smashing LC's head ♪

♪ Ska is not dead ♪

♪ This gigantic robot kills ♪

♪ He's gonna come down the block ♪

♪ He's gonna fire at will ♪

♪ He's blastin' bullets from his elbows ♪

♪ Shootin' missiles from his eyes ♪

♪ He's gonna win the day for Billy ♪

♪ Take the OC by surprise ♪

♪ He'll make you do the Macarena
as you rock your Tamagachi ♪

♪ With your Newton down in Woodstock ♪

♪ Playing Sega la-di-da-di ♪

♪ He brought the '90s back
and then he freed Tibet ♪

♪ If you can't find his jam on Napster ♪

♪ Then the warehouse sells cassettes ♪

♪ Old school ♪

♪ Gigantic ♪

♪ He was ♪

♪ Gigantic ♪

♪ This robot ♪

♪ Gigantic ♪

♪ So very ♪

♪ Gigantic ♪

♪ Ska robot ♪

♪ This gigantic robot kills ♪

♪ He's gonna come down the block ♪

♪ He's gonna fire at will ♪

♪ He's got a cannon on his
shoulder and a laser in his hand ♪

♪ He's gonna win the day for Billy ♪

♪ Make the city understand ♪

♪ This gigantic robot kills ♪

♪ He's gonna come down the block ♪

♪ He's gonna fire at will ♪

♪ He's blastin' bullets from his elbows ♪

♪ Shootin' missiles from his eyes ♪

♪ He's gonna win the day for Billy ♪

♪ Take the whole world by surprise ♪

[Robot] Ska is not dead