Music Scene
Ska band survives underground

By Catherine E. Toth
Advertiser Staff Writer

Reel Big Fish – from left, Scott Klopfenstein, Travis Werts, Carlos de la Garza, Aaron Barrett, Dan Regan and Matt Wong – is heading for a performance Tuesday at the World Cafe. The band has been doing well but finds its future uncertain. Reel Big Fish with Go Jimmy Go 7 p.m. Tuesday; doors open 6 p.m. World Cafe, 1130 N. Nimitz Highway $20 ($17.50 advance) 526-4400 Show for all ages

Otherwise Reel Big Fish might have a legitimate shot at being mega rock stars. And with all that blink-182 appeal.

But for now, they're content with the almost-famous status.

"I wanted to be super big and famous," said guitarist-vocalist Aaron Barrett in a recent phone interview from Cincinnati. "I wanted to be a rock 'n' roll superstar. But this is great."

Instead, the scruffy collection of musical misfits, performing Tuesday at the World Cafe, have found a place in the underground. A dingy place, no pretty curtains or matching dishes, but definitely a place to call their own. A place with fans, a place where ska rules.

"When we first started out, I didn't understand how this worked," Barrett explained. "But there's this level of popularity of being underground. I always thought there were bands that played in bars and bands that played in stadiums. Once I found out about the ska scene, I felt like I belonged."

The six-piece ska-rock SoCal band has seen the wave crest, after the 1997 radio hit "Sell Out" and a whirlwind romance with MTV. But the band, clutching its board, is patiently waiting for that next perfect wave.

So with no record to promote and no guarantees for their future with Mojo Records, Reel Big Fish escaped the clutches of a finicky industry by hitting the road, playing gigs across the country and all over Europe.

Relatively underground in the States, the Fish were shocked to discover even Euro-kids knew the lyrics to their songs.

"The fans are pretty much the same everywhere," Barrett said. "Young kids in punk T-shirts. They wear the same clothes everywhere, too, do the same dances. The only difference is in some places they don't speak English."

It helps that the guys pack a sense of humor, apparent in their band name alone.

"There's no big story behind it, no deeper meaning," Barrett said, with a chuckle. "We just made it up."

Punning name aside, the band's rampaging, good-time ska music has reeled in fans from all over. With songs titled "Why Do All Girls Think They're Fat?" and "Scott's A Dork," and a tour called "Crouching Fish Hidden Finger," humor has gotten them places. Like producing four albums that have received rave reviews. Like opening for The Cure, KISS, the Blues Brothers and Coolio. Like singing the national anthem at a Miami Dolphins/Buffalo Bills game on Monday Night Football. Like making their movie debut (playing themselves, of course) in "BASEketball." Like backing up the legendary Don Ho on "Tiny Bubbles" at the KROQ Weenie Roast.

"We have good shows pretty much everywhere we go," Barrett said. "We're lucky like that."

Luck and hard work have made RBF. Together for 10 years, the bandsmen have evolved in the ever-changing world of music. New additions to their lineup and a new determination to remain true to their ska roots, even as other SoCal ska bands such as No Doubt followed the cash cow of mainstream, have made the Fish a refreshing change from the radio dial.

And original? RBF's got that covered.

"I write all the lyrics and no one appreciates me," whimpered Barrett, who counts U2, the Smiths, UB40 and his current fascination with death metal as his musical influences. "I listen to a bunch of stuff. It goes through my brain and comes out my fingers through my guitar. There's no real pattern of writing for me."

But the best part of RBF has always been, and probably will always be, its live shows. A caffeinated punch of high energy, the band takes on an alter ego, even more altered than its already crazy self.

"We try to be entertaining and fun, like a party," Barrett said. "That's the most important thing, playing songs that people like. I figure we give a little something extra. A funny banter, some antics. Otherwise just put on the record."

Does the future for RBF hold more recordings, more touring, more money?

Consult the Magic 8 Ball: "Ask again later."

"I have no idea," Barrett admitted. "We have six guys who have been together for at least seven years, grown up into six different people, a new record with new sounds that doesn't sound like ourselves, and the fans may hate us, and we have record company problems, and we're floating in limbo." He sighed. "Very scary. It's that kind of excitement you don't want. That sucks."