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WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!?!

12/11/2018

Between classes, students lounged in the pseudo modern furniture, that sprawled across the open spaces of a college campus, located in the wooded outskirts of Providence, RI. 

In my second year of college, I met a young musician, boiling over with excitement and enthusiasm about the many ideas that were fighting their way to be at the top his list of priorities. James 'Boney' Beaupre had a positive and compelling air that exuded from him. As we talked and avoided classes, songwriting, art and music became the main topics of our conversations. He would stand up often, moving around, playing guitar and showing me ideas he had written or was beginning to formulate. 

On a Friday, he asked if I wanted to make the trek down to Newport, RI. He convinced me to take the ride, not based on himself or his band, but on the allure of the band that would follow them on stage that evening. From end to end, Rhode Island is no more than an hour's drive. That is, only if you get caught in the red lights...but for Rhode Islanders, any distance is too long. James, 'Boney' as he is known, is a wonderfully social creature, who has no problem filling a conversation, but he held his tongue, stating that this band needed to be seen. They were beyond description. Needless to say, this peeked my interest.

Later that evening, I had garnered long time friend and fellow musician, Michael Deusch, who along with myself was always eager to find new music. Our modus operandi was to seek out music and performers that were special and unique. We made our way to the venue and watched "The Mints", James' band at the time, who were an interesting and talented group of individuals, in and of themselves. Getting a chance to observe them gave context to our long conversations around the campus.

As The Mints finished their set and cleared their equipment from the stage, a considerable road crew began to shift large pieces of gear around for the upcoming act. A professional atmosphere was becoming apparent... it became obvious that we weren't in Kansas anymore. This was on a higher level than anything I had seen up that point, outside of an arena or theater.

It was 1980, I was 19 years old and since 1973, I had seen my fair share of rock acts and their professional stage productions make their way though the infinitesimal state where I resided. But what I was about to see branded me for life. It opened a path and set a course that I have not strayed from since.

A cold winter's evening encapsulated the small town of Newport, as we huddled at a table near the side of the stage. The crew closed up the bus outside and shut the loading door, locking the heat back into the room. We attempted to get a glimpse of the band as crew members moved in and out of the backstage door.  Out front, a cage of 20 or more large light cans loomed overhead, held in place by iron staging. The large arc framed the long back line of high end equipment that created an ominous topography on the stage. This purposeful weight and expanse was on par or better than that of the large touring rock acts of the day. The sound system that sat firmly at the sides of the already ominous stage appeared like monolithic braces holding the ceiling in place - a structure more at home in a theater or larger venue. 

The audience came alive with screams of raw excitement as the house went black. The cheering heralded the band's arrival, as it rose in volume with each shadow that crossed the stage in front of us. An explosion of sound pushed us back against the table. The music hit with an intensity unlike anything I have ever felt. Before the first vocal was let loose, we were bombarded with guitar hooks so instantly identifiable, we began singing along with just the music. The band was tight, strong and on target. Jaws hanging, we were in shock. A few things we had seen prior, on the 'local level' might have been reasonably good, but not like this...  "Could a band really be this great?" "What the fuck are we seeing?!"

As if that wasn't enough, when the vocals kicked in, it changed everything. Three people singing, two lead singers, weaving vocal patterns and hooks together like it was second nature and the main vocalist punching us directly in the face. His approach to singing and performing was straight to the fucking point. Up to that time in my life, I had an idea what I would like to be, as a singer, but after seeing this band, I knew exactly what needed to happen. Although it would take me years to find my own voice, this is where my path originated. 

As the band hammered its audience with strong hooks, great playing and bombastic performances, I thought, how could this get any better?. They had it all... what more could any band or audience want? This was truly what it was all about, period. Then they flipped the script... The singer, whose purposeful and raw style that had made such an impression on me, left the stage. The band's varied strengths shot forth like a cannon. The vocals broke out with a new structure, strong, even with the absence of a third singer. The surprises kept on coming. The remaining singer forged a harp solo that would make an old blues cat stand up and shout. This was a punk band and yet this man made it sync like it was a walk in the park. The bass player had a lock with the drummer so unstoppable it shook the building. The tall ominous figure moved over to work floor pedal keys as more color and intrigue entered the music. The raw intensity of both guitar players pushed back on the crowd, who stood leaning forward over the edge of the stage with their fists pumping high into the air.

The room went black again and, when the spotlight flashed the stage again, the singer who had left the stage was led back on by two blond leather clad women. The girls began to move and interact with the lyrics and the musicians, adding a story of the songs. It wasn't just dancing, they involved the band members and the audience, and the choreography was directly on target. We were now over forty five minutes into the show and I thought this is it, they can't have anything else!

Twists and turns worked through the night. They had the audience in a frenzy, shouting "shove it!" one minute and the next, the band slowed down slightly to what might be construed as a ballad. Throughout the night the guitar players tastefully put together solos with grace and conviction. Like icing on the cake, yet still punching the audience in the face, while the rhythm section tore up the night like a high speed train. It was everything you wanted and more.

Throughout the night, Michael and myself, studied The Probers, absorbing every note and nuance. We were, to say the least, in shock. This is not what is supposed to happen. This was not an evening out seeing a band. This was on another level. 

In the months that passed, we followed The Probers, but it wasn't just the music and the performances that intrigued us. They set out to do everything right and if they made a mistake, they turned it into a win by working harder. The marketing plan this band put into place was beyond belief. They understood how to create a sense of mystery and build something small into a phenomenon. While other acts of that time whined about low attendance and the state of the music business, The Probers worked and worked hard! They built a business, complete with venture capitalists, a 25 person crew, publicity staff, an outstanding show, a tremendously effective marketing plan, promoted themselves in every possible way, wrote great material, played exceptionally well and had balls of steel. They did everything it took to obtain their goals.  They feared nothing. They made their future. 

David John Ricci - Fan, Filmmaker, Music Producer, Musician, Artist, Writer