The Overage Hecklers Club

“Ok, I have a question for you. Who likes free cookies?” It was then I realized I was at a high school function again and I had no idea why.

There were two sixteen year old guys in brown staff t-shirts making announcements to the crowd: “We’d like to thank our sponsors; they are the ones who give us money.” Behind them other high school age kids milled about setting up and taking down various pieces of musical equipment.

I surveyed the crowded auditorium and took stock of the audience, with ages ranging from a 3 month old baby in a stroller near the doors to the 50 something parents of band/audience members. Aside from them my friends and I were the oldest people there by at least a decade. It was clear to me that my hope of networking with new local bands at this event was not going to happen. The only thing left for us to do was stand back and poke fun at the musicians we had come there to judge. Those acts included a screamo band who really wished they were The Get Up Kids, and a group of wanna-be models who though it’d be a good idea to start a band and spend half an hour posing on stage while the singer tried to channel the spirit of Cedric Bixler-Zavala by retracting his balls and creating the most painful falsetto I have ever heard.

Now before I get too deep into this I’d like to mention that in every other part of my life I don’t feel old. I’m a healthy young woman. I’m only 23 years old for God’s sake, I’m not old. Barring the occasional friend getting married or having kids, there is not a lot that makes me feel over the hill or out of touch. That was until Friday night at the San Rafael community center where I attended Verge Concert’s Battle of the Bands. As I drove into that small parking lot and saw all of the thirteen to seventeen year old kids being dropped off by their moms, it made me wonder why I wasn’t hauling ass back up to Sonoma County to retreat into a mid-20’s haze of a lifestyle.

If it weren’t for the hilariously ridiculous fact that the ultimate winner of the battle gets to open up for Journey, headliners of “Rock n’ Blues by the Lake”, then I would never have gone in the first place. Then I remembered why I was there. The Brockly Tacos. If any group of guys could draw me out of quasi-political/philosophical discussions with college students, smoke clouded sidewalk fronts packed with San Francisco hipsters, and living room dance parties to retro-chic bands like The Zombies and The Velvet Underground The Brockly Tacos could. Now I say this as no reflection on my actual musical taste. Frankly, I have never liked metal. Not even during that brief moment in junior high/high school when Metallica ruled the earth. The closest that I ever came to being a metal fan was Van Halen’s Jump when I was five years old, and that was because I was very good at taking direction.

So what is it about The Brockly Tacos that makes me a fan? Am I biased because I get to boss around the lead singer at work? Yes, but if that was the sole reason I would go to one show, say hi, buy a CD or T-shirt and leave. The reason I like The Brockly tacos is because they bring a fresh breath of fun and goofiness to a genre so consumed by seriousness, doom and gloom. They remind me of why I stopped listening to Marilyn Manson and started listening to The Aquabats and Reel Big Fish when I was fifteen. They explain why though I am not a big rap fan I love Snoop Dogg and Xzibit.

The Brockly Tacos, in the process of recording a new CD, their follow up to last years Bionic Midget, can be described best as cartoon metal, and to quote a BT nubie that night “These guys are fucking awesome.” Each band member has a cartoon persona, which are prominently on display during their shows as each band member sports their favorite color Brockly Tacos t-shirt. Their stage shows include a giant plastic pumpkin head in front of the drum kit, stuffed animals thrown between the band and the audience, a rubber severed hand, a legion of skinny long-haired mosh pit regulars know as the evil carrots, and my personal favorite at one of their Phoenix shows, an intro sample track of the theme song from David the Gnome.

Don’t think that because they are a goofy cartoon band they lack talent in any way. Tom Meehan, aka Pumpkin Warrior or P-dubs, is probably the best guitarist that I have even known personally or seen live. My jaw drops as his fingers glide effortlessly along the neck of his Gibson V creating the kind of complex chord progressions and “twiddle-e-dee’s” that I normally hear in high-budget 80’s ass-metal songs. Yet through it all his face remains calm with a quiet smile as always.

Sean “Can-Man” Cannon, Johnny-on-the-spot with aptly timed samples, definitely holds his own as the front-man. His vocals flow from falsetto-rap death-metal grunts and all harmonies in between, all the while jumping around on stage, playing off the energy of his band mates and encouraging audience participation. Backing vocals from Mike “Kool-Aid” Rosario, including death grunts on “Pee Snowball” and screaming insanity on “Reznor’s Revenge”, bring depth and energy to the set. Bassist, Gaelon “Gaybot” Davis, and drummer, Luis “Furry Crotch” Briones, pull together a rhythm section that is intricate and hard enough to keep up with the complex guitar solos, while remaining precise and steady, balancing out the screaming intensity of the guitar and vocals. Their songs have developed since their inception in 2003, and show staples such as “All Around the Brockly Tree” have become recognizable crowd favorites.

There’s another thing, the fans. Admittedly yes, I am one of the oldest fans who has not actually given birth to one of the band members; however the fans are dedicated, loyal, and just as goofy as the band members themselves. I mean how many local garage rock bands do you go see where members of the audience wear their band T-shirts proudly to every show and scream their requests at the stage as if they were at an arena rock venue. At every Brockly Tacos show that I have been to, and this was no exception, everyone is having fun. “We started as a joke band and never even thought that we would play a show” says Meehan. Curious? Check them out at various venues from San Rafael to Petaluma. Please, leave your musical genre judgment at the door and prepare for a half hour set of fun, smiles, and death metal groans.

After the show ended my friends and I returned to our brand of eclectic normalcy. Our evening continued at jazz club in Petaluma, two games of pool at Red’s Recovery Room, and culminated with three a.m. Moons over My Hammy, hold the hammy. And really, there’s nothing quite like walking the streets of Petaluma in uncomfortable shoes and reminiscing with a Berkeley Grad who majored in logic to bring me back to reality.