Every hero has their origin story. This is ours: ✌🏾💜🐔
I lived at Slang Church for the better part of 2016 and that really kickstarted a lot of things for me and this music thing. Touring bands were coming and going, sleeping on the couches, often recording daytime sessions in the living room. It was a fun atmosphere. This particular weekend could have been like any other. But it was a little different. A few days before, I had my car broken into. I was tired and I slipped, leaving my backpack inside. It’s a violating feeling, something people living in a big city know well, almost a rite of passage even. I took the day off work and came home with a hole in my stomach. The following Sunday, Colin and I went to watch the Raiders game down the street. There was a lot of hope on the horizon that season. They lost a winnable game. We had a lot of Sunday beers. All dressed up with nowhere to go.
“GEE WILLIKERS!!” We didn’t have a name. We only had a few songs. But we had a show. And it was DEFINITELY a "rootin’ tootin’ time!”
“REMIX.” Were we to have our shit together it might have looked a little something like this. SJ born, NY bred, LA raised, OAK made.
It was a sunny day out, too sunny for our drunk, sullen, defeated spirits so we closed the blinds, turned off all the lights, and created a dark cave to lick our wounds. Colin set up a mic to record some casual acoustic guitar, a regular occurrence in that household while I sat at the kitchen table, writing and listening to the mellow music. After a while, he took a break and we sat in relaxing silence until I asked if I could hop in there. I had never really plugged in to a recording set up so I was a bit nervous putting the headphones on. But the darkness helped and with only Colin, Kobe as my witness, I just started playing, any and everything I had ever written, just to feel how it sounded: cleaner and crisper than I was used to, warm and comforting. Where those tapes are I have no idea but that doesn’t matter. That was enough. It seemed that someone listened to them because they asked if I wanted to record a few of them in an official capacity. And then before I knew it we had a set at 924 Gilman. “This is HUGE! Wait… who’s we?” Guess I gotta hurry up and get a band together.
Laying down some Fish vocals before heading off on a road trip up the PNW. On the other side was when the fun was about to begin...
“Any Given Sunday.” A regular occurrence in the Slang Church living room. Sit back, plug in, & turn the lights down low...
“Makeshift Orchestra.” I used to busk these songs to make some extra cash while working at Benicia. Well Soon was house glue.
The day before our Gilman date, Slang Church was business as usual. Servin brunch & servin tunes. Mom Jeans frickin rules.
Matthias and I had been jamming for the past year or so while I was living in San Jose, a real high time for the worms who liked to ball jam chill. A good drummer is hard to find. And he is one, along with a whole lot more. He was my first call. Luckily, Yung Tias was ready, willing, and able. One piece of the puzzle down. Next up was Scottie2Hottie. Scottie and I had missed a few chances to play together over the years but I was hoping that this time would be the one. Thankfully, he was in town and also down to shralp. Just like that, we had a band. We didn’t have a name and we didn’t have much time. And we had to learn some songs. Pronto. I didn’t have much experience in this realm so I mocked up some schematics for the songs I had and let it ride. I’m self taught and it turns out I have my own lingo, which needs a little deciphering. But truly all it took was a session or two and come hell or high water we were gonna rock out...
This is how you play Fish Fillet. Got it? OK. Let’s rock it out!!
So, now you have the recipe... but do you have the special sauce??
It’d been a while since I’d been on a stage with the homies and the first time with these ones in particular. It felt awesome. Gilman is a raw venue with a lot of history and looking out at the crowd seeing friends and young punks with their inflatable flamingos was a real thrill. We were all revved up and ready to go and we had 30 minutes to work with. We burned through that in what felt like a snap of our fingers. After 5 songs we were sweaty and smiling and all finished up. Except they wanted another one. Only thing was: we didn’t have another one. So we huddled up and borrowed a trick from our Kid Mystic Halloween show: “Scotty, play that riff we were jammin on. I’ll make up some words and Matthias you just vibe.” So that’s what we did and as far as we could tell, no one had a clue. We start together and we finish together. Anything in between just is. That’s how it began. The beginning of a beautiful chapter…
“El Primer Paso.” March 2017. We kicked off with our first song Fish. 24 hours earlier: We need a name. Pronto. You live in a coop. Where all the huevos at? Throw some flavor on it and pretty soon by popular consensus i’m yellin, “Soy Papi Ro… & somos Los Huevos Banditos..!”
What a rush. What a thrill. What a treat. Gilman is all ages so we went down the street to a bar in between sets to grab a few celebratory brewskies. The vibe was high and we were all hopped up on rock n roll. That feeling of butterflies mixed with adrenaline. Hadn’t felt that feeling in a long while. Where can we get some more of that? So we went back to the show and got down to some Skandalism...
Photo by Sam Sirico Pereda
That was a pretty special moment in time for us. I had never worked on a project in that official of a capacity before but I always knew that this was the desired outcome: to be on stage with two of my closest friends, sharing something we worked on together to a room full of friends and skankin’ skaters shakin’ their tail feathers. It did not disappoint.
SKANDALISM was the college band at Santa Clara long before Palabra came along. The definition of “The Simpsons already did that one.”
“Avante-Garde Bathroom Art.” An awesome album. I wore this tape out during my commutes in the truck. Thela is my favorite song.
And thankfully it was only the beginning. I’ve never been one to count my chickens before they hatch, but i gotta say, this time around I was feeling pretty damn good about em. That night we played two songs off that still unfinished project. But that’s a story for another time, though not for nothing. In this timeline, this was the trajectory we were on now: born in a garage, coming to a coop near you. We’re climbin into your earholes, snatchin yer huevos up. Hide your eggs, bring your wife. These chickens have come home to roost… VAYA CON GANAS AMIGOS!
“A Huevo is Born.” The page I wrote that languid afternoon, having to start fresh & new, would go on to be the first page of a yellow notebook of the first of many Huevo ledgers, and the beginning of an awesome era. It’s a new day, It’s a new day, It’s a new day...
“Pure Desolation.” I brought this one back from the mountains with me. The Wise Man & The Muse are no longer with us, but they live on through these. And I’m starting to understand what they meant. Discovering Destiny... Mentally what yer meant to be. Eventually.
“Leaving it all on the field.” I still have these sticks from our first show. Well, they were one stick. And then 924 Gilman happened...
post script. the morning after... 5y later, same ol Ro
