Recommended book in Rolling Stones June 2021 Issue
With an additional 30,000 words of compelling stories, research, and analysis, music journalist and In Defense of Ska podcast creator/host Aaron Carnes presents the case that ska never died, by jumping headfirst into ska’s “lost years,” i.e., the period after the ’90s third-wave ska boom.
New topics covered include LA’s ongoing vibrant traditional ska scene and how young Latinos are keeping the ska torch aflame, how the devastation of Hurricane Katrina inadvertently kicked off a thriving scene focused on keeping community alive in New Orleans, a deep review of Christian ska group Five Iron Frenzy, who broke a Kickstarter record in the ’10s while making progressive activists out of their fan base, a close inspection of a hipster rocksteady scene in Brooklyn that grew so popular it nearly kicked off a nationwide revival, and more secret ska past revelations with none other than Fall Out Boy lead singer Patrick Stump—who has a story that, up until recently, was carefully guarded.
Plus, the book re-explores several bands featured in the first edition, revealing new layers and more details about all the bands fans love, like Mighty Mighty Bosstones, Operation Ivy, the Slackers, Hepcat, Mephiskapheles, and Reel Big Fish. With 30,000 additional words, this is the complete ska package.
Picked up this book because I really enjoy ska, especially third-wave stuff. My dad introduced me to the genre pretty young with tracks from Madness and The English Beat (he was a big new-waver), as well as stuff from the Bosstones and Buck-O-Nine. But growing up in the suburbs of LA, it came back over and over again. I remember driving down PCH blasting Less Than Jake's The Science of Selling Yourself Short, and having my middle-school friend Jennifer's hot older sister in art school tell me I looked really ska in my checkerboard tie when picking her up to go to a church-sponsored dance (swoon). I went to Ska-lloween concerts, and became an official Aquanaut at my first Aquabats concert (a traumatizing experience for my wife). So, like, I wasn't in the scene but I wasn't not in the scene...
That being said, I know the history here. I know the basics of the waves, how Caribbean immigrants influenced British punks in the 70s, how ska is not fast reggae but instead that reggae is slow ska (a gross simplification, I'm sure). But anyway, I think I was expecting a deeper dive into that way of looking at things, and instead I think this book ended up as a weird amalgamation of thought-dumps on different aspects of the genre and the scene. Honestly, in a lot of ways, it reads like a deeply fragmented memoir where the author has to keep explaining the context of it all. And then repeats it in the next chapter with different names and places.
Look, I enjoyed probably the first half of this book. There were some really interesting dives into the DIY scene, which was entirely foreign to me. I'm obsessed with the whole idea of the Build Your Own Life zines that Kamala Parks wrote for Maximum Rocknroll back in the 90s, and keep trying to figure out how to duplicate that for movements that matter to me. I loved the discussion on Fishbone and their work in anti-racist spaces, as well as the general ska against racism two-tone ethos. And I loved hearing about the Latin ska scene and how it's become more of a movement worldwide than it even was in the US. But overall, I just kind of got tired reading this one. Oh, and I had the newest edition that has an additional 75 pages as an epilogue that just recounts more hyperlocal ska scenes.
Oh, also, I found it very strange that they couldn't decide if ska should be silly or not. On the one hand, the author would talk about how fantastic it was that Skankin' Pickle and We Are The Union (his own band) would write silly songs about pizza or pickles or whatever, but then included a whole chapter about how ska is Serious Business™️. The Aquabats themselves get a single mention in the book, and it's so offhand. And look, maybe I'm just peeved that my favorite bands didn't get their day in the sun, but I know other people have issues with inclusion here too. Save Ferris's lead, Monique Powell, has publicly become pretty angry about being relegated to, "That band that sung ska Come On Eileen and also sung once with the Bosstones", when Save Ferris was pretty influential in the scene.
I just think in the end, this book either set an impossible task or claimed to be more than it was. It's expansive in its quest to define the ska scene, but also seems to gatekeep pretty heavily at the same time. I don't know that there's a way to satisfy those of us religious hopefuls who await the secondthirdfourth coming of ska.
Sure the book is not chronological; but why does it have to be? I loved the book! So many great artists to listen to while you read the stories. I would say it is a definite read for any ska-enthusiast.