The Slackers @ The El Rey

Outside the Rudeboy scene, ska music doesn’t get a whole lot of respect. The mid-nineties commercial success of bands like the Mighty Mighty Bosstones and Reel Big Fish made the entire genre feel a bit dated by the turn of the century. My friends raised more than a few eyebrows, when I mentioned that I was leaving a splendid Kentucky Derby party to go see a ska band. My girlfriend, who I dragged along, was ready to leave me when we realized I’d misread the concert info and we arrived a good two and half hours before the Slackers were going to play.

The first of two opening bands, The Chris Murray Combo, did little to sunny her disposition. It’s not just that they were so terrible, which they were, but that they were terrible in such a cliché way. The subject matter of every song seemed to be Rudeboys, skanking, and/or rocksteady. Every song featured a walking bass line, syncopated guitar riffs, and a bass drum accented EVERY third beat. It was tedious to say the least.

So I bought Christine a $9 Stella Artois and assured her that the Slackers would be worth her wait. Then something surprising happened: our conversation about how much we both hated opening bands, especially when there were two opening bands, was interrupted by the curtain and the first rip-roaring notes of Deal’s Gone Bad’s opening song. I’d never heard them before, never even heard of them, but they were good. And not just good, in the “they’re surprisingly not bad for an opener” sort of way, but good in a “I’m tempted to go the merch table and actually buy one of their albums” sort of way.

Their lead singer, Todd Hembrook, had a serious set of chops on him. He belted out lyrics about dishonest men and cheating women and had the room skanking almost immediately. Complimented by some impressive horns and a formidable rhythm section, Hembrook was able to get me out of the doghouse with my girlfriend.

And then came The Slackers. Generally considered to be the best live ska show anywhere, the Slackers didn’t disappoint. Having played together since 1991, the band is always incredibly polished, seamlessly transitioning between slower crowd favorites like “Wasted Days” and rocking up-tempo songs like “Have The Time.” They even brought out Hepcats vocalist Alex Désert for an inspired reggae version of Bill Whither’s classic “Ain’t No Sunshine.”

Little treats like Désert’s cameo always make for a unique show, but the band’s consistently excellent live performances stem from their horns and front man. Glen Pine is always a treat on trombone (and vocals) and Dave Hillyard seemed to be particularly on point with a variety of impressive solos over the course of night, but my favorite is Vic Ruggerio.

Ruggerio, wearing a variety of hats, including principle songwriter, lead vocals, keyboards, and even harmonica on a few songs, is a special musician. His most recent solo album, Something In My Blindspot, is nothing short of spectacular. I truly believe he’d be considered one of today’s best singer-songwriters if he weren’t the front man for a ska band. On this particular night, he suffered from a bit of logorrhea, subjecting the crowd to a handful of lengthy monologues about the origins of various songs, but that didn’t stop him from rocking the crowd.

And rock they did. Christine and I danced, which in itself is an impressive feat. The best (indie rock) shows we attend may result in swaying, but dancing almost never occurs. We weren’t alone. The room jostled and grooved throughout the night, and an unlikely duo, a teen and his gray haired middle-aged father standing in front of me, awkwardly bopped up and down to the music. Throughout the show, typically after a particularly passionate solo or chorus, the kid would nudge his dad like, “see, see, this band is kick-ass enough that even an old man would appreciate it?” and every time, the dad nudged his son right back, like “Holy shit, my kid might actually have some pretty good taste in music.” And you know what? They were both right.