I love Fishbone for many reasons. First and foremost, I love their thick and multi-textured music. Their sound has so many layers, of voices, of harmonizing horns, of instrumentation that cannot be tweaked apart. Unlike many popular rock bands, Fishbone’s sound is not dominated by one lead singer (though singer Angelo Moore is undoubtedly a powerful figure; how many lead singers of bands also play the saxophone?). Each member contributes to the audio layer cake, which builds into a frenzy of infectious energy; while listening to their tidal wave brewing, my own mood builds and rises until I am out of control with pure joy. An antidote to boredom, Fishbone changes my chemical make-up, releasing dopamine in a fashion similar to cocaine or sex. When I’m feeling low and ponderous, a slower, more-melancholy Fishbone song will speak to my sadness and pull me out of my self-centered pity into a world-view knowledge of sorrowful solidarity.Then a rhythmic, upbeat Fishbone song will kill that pessimism and transform the energy into a ball of optimistic, united realism, spinning a new light in which I am aware of and feel a responsibility for my part in society. It’s this full circle of emotions and insight that appeals so much to my uncontrollable capacity to feel deeply. I eat up Fishbone intellectualism.I self-medicate on Fishbone therapy. I lose myself in a Fishbone song, a pleasurizing meditation, and, like any Buddhist promise of enlightenment, come out more actualized, with pockets of my psyche opened to greater flowing energy. Though I may sound like a crazy, elitist fanatic, my respect for Fishbone is well rounded. And while the dopamine-flowing moments of my Fishbone experiences are similar to the high that an addiction fuels, Fishbone has been a solid and constant love in my life for 18 years. Simply, they are a group of artists whose combination of music, soul, attitude, and being fulfills something in me that craves such fulfillment. And the flame still burns. Part I: Most popular bands keep a safe distance from their fans, creating a space of ambiguous illusion between themselves and those who buy their products and come to their shows. Ever since attending my first Fishbone concert in 1994, I’ve always been able to interact with the members of my favorite band. Angelo Moore and other Fishbone members always mill around with the audience before shows. During performances, they stage dive into the hands of fans, sharing sweat. After performances, they attend to their own merchandise station, signing autographs and talking with fans. I’ve “met” Angelo at almost every Fishbone show I’ve attended. Two years ago at a small Fishbone show here in San Antonio, I was looking around for Angelo before the show started. I’d brought a CD of my own music to give to Angelo in hopes that Fishbone might actually enjoy hearing music I’d made. Suddenly I was distracted by a voice coming up behind me. “You know it’s good luck to shake the trombone player’s hand right before a show.” It was John McKnight, and it was the first time that I’d ever been approached by a member of Fishbone. I maintained my cool and conversed with him awhile, talking about all the Fishbone shows I’d been to and which ones he’d been part of. When it was time for the show to start, he politely excused himself from the conversation and I gave him a copy of my CD. “It’s not anything like Fishbone’s music, but you might like it,” I said. He took the CD and disappeared before taking the stage. Then I hopped around like crazy for the next two hours until I lost my glasses in the mosh pit. After that night, I’d wondered if he’d ever listened to my CD, if any other of the Fishbone members had listened to it and enjoyed it perhaps. I thought it was cool just knowing that the possibility existed.
Angelo-Fishbone
Part II: I wrote a column about that San Antonio Fishbone show two years ago for the weekly San Antonio alternative paper, The Current. Since then, I’ve become more aggressive as a music “journalist,” going after stories of some of my favorite bands and finding music publications to print the story. When the third generation Fishbone released their recent album, “Still Stuck In Your Throat,” I saw an opportunity to pursue a more in-depth Fishbone story, one that might involve an actual interview with Angelo and the band. By this time I had connections as a freelance writer for the Dallas-based music magazine Harder Beat, and I began trying to contact Fishbone to set up an interview on behalf of them. It wasn’t until two days before their US tour began in Austin that I was contacted by Fishbone’s tour manager and told that I could get into their show and possibly meet with the band if I could arrived before doors opened. Though I had some questions floating around in my head as I became familiar with their new album, I had not actually planned on meeting with the band face-to-face for an interview. And I had been given no set time or place to meet for the interview, only the instructions that I should arrive at the venue before doors opened and look around for Fishbone’s tour manager. I’d assumed that I’d have very limited time with Angelo and the band, so I brainstormed a few questions and decided to just stick with three or four. Heather went with me to take pictures. After driving into Austin from San Antonio that day, we parked and headed to Emo’s to try to find the tour manager when, in typical Angelo fashion, we saw Angelo standing in front of Emo’s on the sidewalk, bare chest peeking through suspenders holding up loose-hanging pants, talking to some guy about something. Like a stalking but timid fan, I stood patiently and quietly to the side, waiting, eyes averted, for their conversation to end so that I could approach Angelo. Why look for the tour manager when Angelo Moore himself was standing right here? Once their conversation ended, Angelo turned to me and waited for me to speak, to find out what it was I wanted from him. I had spoken to this man many times at many different Fishbone shows, but for some reason this time I became aware for the first time just how tall he is, his presence seeming to fill up the sky. He looked down at me and I blurted out: “I think we’re supposed to have an interview.” Why had I become so passive and deferent? I didn’t even introduce myself or make my status as a fan known. I don’t know if he was aware that we were supposed to have an interview or if he was just going with the flow, but he said, “okay, follow me,” and soon Heather and I were on the Fishbone tour bus. (The tour bus was more like a tour shack; trumpet-player Curtis Storey informed me later that someone had “dropped the ball” when arranging for the tour vehicle and all seven men and their equipment were stuck with a tiny trailer. Even with all their love for each other, they weren’t pleased by such forced closeness. There was little conversation and much awkwardness at this point so I tried to fill the space by asking how their Australian tour had been and if he was excited for their first U.S. show that night in Austin. “I don’t know,” he answered, fidgeting with piles of clothing and backpacks. “I’m excited,” I exclaimed, to which he turned and flashed a white-toothed smile and for a moment all the awkwardness was gone. Then he grabbed each of us a bottle of water and told us again to follow him. We left the tour shack and entered the darkness of the air-conditioned venue. Inside we followed on his heel like puppies as he poked around, apparently looking for a good spot to conduct the interview. Nothing inside seemed to please him so exited the back door where the sunshine greeted us again and various Fishbone members were lounging on a picnic table. I immediately recognized McKnight. I figured that nothing at this point could be any more awkward than my being a fan-posing-as-a-journalist so I decided to expose my fan-hood with all tenderness and willingness to be embarrassed at not being remembered. “You’re John, aren’t you?” I asked the trombonist. “Yes…” he answered, looking at me with curiosity. “We met at your San Antonio show a couple years ago…” I explained, waiting for him to think up something nice to say.
“Hey, didn’t you give me a copy of your CD that night?” he asked. He remembered me! After one brief encounter he had remembered. “Did you change your hair?” He asked. And I had. My hair had been red at that San Antonio show, and now it is blond. I couldn’t believe he’d remember so many details from our brief encounter two years previous. And I hadn’t even shown him my tits! McKnight went on to tell me the story of how he’d given my CD to his girlfriend to listen to and that they broke up and he never saw the CD again. John and I had a history. My fan hood had become a friendship; I was part of the Fishbone Familyhood. Heather asked permission to take pictures during the interview and I sat down at the picnic table with my journal and pen. Angelo and I agreed that I’d address Fishbone in general with my questions and whoever wanted to would jump in with answers. So not sure what else to do at this point, I opened my journal and found the first question I’d written down. I cleared my throat and read the question aloud, trying not to sound stiff. “How has this third generation Fishbone come to be and how is Fishbone able to keep the collective optimism alive after so many years?” I asked. Angelo, being one of the two founding Fishbone members (along with Norwood Fisher, who was not around for the interview), jumped in to the answer the question. Like McDonald’s, Angelo explains, “people have acquired a special taste for Fishbone and want it to be around.” He then started linking up various Fishbone members with the different McDonald’s characters, crowning himself Ronald. “We’re the fuckin’ Ronald McDonald gang,” he laughed. I wondered if the interview was going to be just silliness. And I wasn’t sure how to respond. But then he got serious and continued to talk. “We have a whole new crew of guys that believe in us and they’re happy to be here. I’m happy to be here,” explained Angelo, his infectious smile further emphasizing the point. The more he talked and gained momentum; I could not keep up with my pen. I scribbled key words in an attempt to capture some quotes, but eventually I put the pen down and decided to just focus on the ideas and feelings. If I was a more serious journalist, I’d have brought a tape recorder with me to capture every word. But I’m not a serious journalist. And Fishbone is not a very well known band so most people reading this story right now are likely big-time fans anyway who are happy to re-live the moment with me. Angelo described this 3rd generation Fishbone as a blend of “social awareness, internal happiness, freedom, music, and art.” And, of course, much love for the Fishbone Brotherhood. I was starting to get into the groove of the interview, to feel more comfortable, when Angelo suddenly stood up and said that he’d be right back. He wandered off back inside the venue. Curtis shook his head, laughing, and said, “He might be back in an hour.” “Oh, is that what he does?” I asked. “All the time.” Though Curtis seemed a little shy, he stayed at the table with us and continued the interview from his own point of view as the newest Fishbone member. He explained that he went to the same high school as the Fishbone originals, only 10 years behind. Fishbone’s also much-younger current keyboardist, Dre Gibson, was good friends with Curtis and called him up one day because Fishbone needed a trumpet player for their tour and would he be willing to do it. He joined the Brotherhood and now he’s a Fishbone soldier, young and fresh-faced. “We all enjoy actin’ a fool and hangin’ with each other,” described Curtis. He also described the current Fishbone as a “more mature” Fishbone, more laid-back and mellow. I wasn’t quite sure what he meant; the Fishbone I’d seen just two years previous had all the energy that they ever had, and I had a hard time believing they’d grown up too much in two years.
Part III As Heather and I sat with Curtis and other Fishbone members were milling around somewhere, I was unsure if Angelo would come back to answer any more questions. Heather, who later said she’d never seen me so timid and tongue-tied, took over for a while and chatted Curtis up, trying to maintain a casual, comfortable atmosphere. Amidst the small talk, Angelo reappeared, along with drummer John Steward. They joined us at the picnic table and Angelo began digging in his backpack. “Next question,” he said while looking for something in his bag. I leafed through my journal again. I’d wanted to ask how Fishbone felt about being an all-black band with a mostly white fan-base, but the question didn’t feel right. I looked at some of the back-up questions that Heather had suggested, such as how their tour experience was going and how it affected their family life, but these questions seemed too conventional. I was like a kid taking a multiple-choice test that didn’t know the answer and decided to just leave the question blank rather than utilizing that 25% chance of getting it right. I was tongue-tied. “I’m starting to lose faith in my questions,” I said, finally. “Don’t lose faith,” he answered, and then I saw that he had pulled out a pinch of bud and had begun rolling a joint. Just then, Dre Gipson approached and introduced himself. I was immediately struck by his handsomeness and polite demeanor. He asked me if I knew where he could get a blender in the neighborhood. I told him there were no stores within walking distance. Then, like the perfect spring-time moment, sun-shining, experiencing my favorite band with my good friend, Dre pulled from his back pocket a 375 ml bottle of Hornitos gold tequila. Not only is tequila my favorite spirit, but Hornitos is my favorite brand, and gold my favorite flavor. Then he did my famous party-hostess behavior: “You can have some but you have to drink it from the bottle,” he explained, holding the bottle out toward me. I knew I’d sound like a babbling fan if I tried to explain that I’m known among my circle of friends as the girl who tries to push Hornitos tequila shots on everyone at the party, so I just smiled and told him that that was my favorite tequila. As I took a swig from the bottle, I noticed from the corner of my eye Angelo lighting up the joint.
This had turned from an interview to a party, but I was fine with that, relieved and then excited; after all, I had set up the interview for my own selfish purposes in order to hang out with my favorite band and experience them first-hand. The joint was passed around the circle and within minutes, I was buzzed. I was in Fishbone heaven. My nervousness subsided, my journal closed, and we became a group of people hanging out and talking and getting high together. That’s when a new layer of love and respect for Fishbone developed within me; the men began to open up to me, to answer questions I’d written but not yet asked, to give me details of their lives freely and with ease. I’d always known that Fishbone was accessible to their fans, that they’d never sold out or contained any arrogance, but during those moments together, I also realized that these men are completely genuine, totally laid-back, and just cool. Under the influence of (quite good) marijuana and my favorite tequila, I had come out of my shell and began laughing and joking with the band as if I’d known them for years.
Part IV: Lost in the buzz, I wasn’t really able to keep track anymore of who was coming and who was going. I just sat where I was and talked to whoever was next to me while Heather snapped pictures here and there, stopping to hit off the joint when it came her way. Somehow the conversation took a turn toward their personal lives. I think it was Heather who asked about their marital status and Steward answered that none of them were married. “Bachelors,” I responded, to which he corrected me and said that all of the men in the band except one had girlfriends at home. “But we’re all bachelors when we’re on the road,” he continued. His girlfriend, he said, was understanding and accepting of this reality, saying that as long as she didn’t have to hear about it and as long as he didn’t bring it home with him, she was okay with it. “Does that go both ways?” I asked. “Is she allowed to fool around while you’re away on tour?” “Well...she doesn’t, but if she wanted to I’d be okay with it.” Huh. Then Dre, the one bachelor of the group (and a mighty fine bachelor indeed), began to discuss how being on the road is difficult for him because he usually ends up playing shows on his birthday and missing his mom's and sister’s birthdays as well, as all their birthdays are around the same time. I guess Heather’s suggested interview question about how touring affects their family life would have been a great question to ask (and I thought it was too conventional). Angelo had completely disappeared by this time and McKnight had reappeared to join the group, so I began conversing with my “friend”. He went on a tirade about the fickle nature of Americans compared to other parts of the world. During their Australian tour, he explained, fans drove for hours through the outback to get to a Fishbone show. He said that Fishbone even has die-hard fans in Croatia. But in the states, a band has to be on the radio or in the top 40 to get any real attention. “In L.A. [their hometown], people won’t drive 20 minutes across town to get a show.” He then discussed life on the road and said that he’d given up his apartment and had no responsibilities to tie him down; touring with Fishbone had become his lifestyle. It sounded to me like he was also a bachelor, but maybe he had a stable girlfriend too somewhere. He then mused about a time he’d had a desk job between Fishbone tours and how he’d liked the routine and the promise of a paycheck, whereas on the road, nothing is certain and the money is sporadic. How ironic, I thought. How often I fantasize about quitting my day job and just living on the road while those that live out my fantasy have their own moments desiring stability. Our conversation reminded me that life is never perfect, no matter how much we romanticize something that we don’t have. Maybe it’s finding a balance that will bring the most peace. Balancing my stable day life with a nightlife in which I get to pursue creative writing dreams and converse with some of my favorite artists is not a bad way to live.
Part V: After a while, I realized that the sun was starting to the set and the first band of the night had already gone onstage. The members of Fishbone began to ungroup in order to do whatever they needed to do before their show. Before parting, Dre offered me another swig of tequila, and I obliged. I turned to Heather and met her glassy-eyed gaze; we both laughed. As usual, their performance that night was typical Fishbone madness, and I was still buzzing from the effects of the interview-party-favors. I jumped into the mosh and danced my way around the rest of the night while Heather took pictures. They played songs from every single Fishbone album and all the hard-core Fishbone fans were pushing against each other with sweaty reverence. I just about lost my glasses again that night, but this time someone in the audience found than on the floor and gave them to me. That night, though, I didn’t seem to even care as much about their stage performance as their other shows. I had already been fulfilled by my pre-show experience and so the rest of the night was just a blur of rowdiness. I do remember thinking during the show that Fishbone didn’t really seem any more “mature” or “mellow” to me. I could barely keep up with their energy! By the end of the night I was ready to collapse. Epilogue: As I sit here finishing my novella about my love affair for Fishbone, I begin to wonder if any of this is important to anyone else. It’s a story I’ve wanted to write since falling in love with them, and now I’m finally doing it. It doesn’t really have a beginning or an end, and there is very little conflict. Perhaps this story was more for me than for anyone else. But hopefully a few die-hard fans have recognized the passion in my words, and hopefully the rest of you have enjoyed living a dream with me for a moment. These experiences are what keep me balanced and keep me going when the stress and dullness of adult life starts to get me down. “So many millions feel this strong, all these people can’t be wrong…”
