Get Up Edina!

editor's note: Bob Walter is one of my favorite people. When I need an honest opinion about anything, I go to Bob. Bob always has the end-all opinion. Out of all my years of meeting people in the scene, I have to say, Bob is the person I respect most out of anyone. I asked him if he was interested in writing an article for me when I first started Get Up Edina, and here it is. Take every word to heart! This man is one of the few people who I actually care what he thinks of me and my actions, that's how important he is! -Joanna

Where Have All the Rude Boys Gone?
by Ska Bob Walter

*A special thanks to the members of the "In a Dancing Mood" Internet Forum, whose comments and critiques gave me the boot to the head I needed to clarify my writing


I've been trying to write this article for several months, now. And, to be honest, I'm not sure if I can properly convey the sense of loss that inspired me to write it. Everyone's experiences are unique to them, personally. What I'm trying to say is, my viewpoint is very narrow, and not necessarily widely appreciable, but so be it.

With the permission of the reader, we will dispense with the true definition of Rude Boy. I realize that this will contradict things I've written in the past (things you've never read, of course), but for the sake of this piece, a Rude Boy is not the underprivileged, hard-assed gangbanger of 1960's Kingston. Instead, we will use the definition popularized in the 1970's and 80's; the hardcore fan who went out of his way to epitomize Ska and all of it's variables.

I was nine years old when my family moved to Utah in 1977. It was 3 or 4 years later before I heard of Ska. Utah is a strange place. Everyone thinks we're all so backward, and they're not completely wrong. But, a lot of people here have relatives from all over the country, including (and particularly) California. If it was popular on the West Coast, it was the best new thing in Utah a year later.

For several years, I suffered in silence. Well, scratch that. For several years, I was silent in ignorance. I had my dalliances with Kool and the Gang, Billy Joel, and even Queen, but it was always 2-Tone and Chrysalis Records that I fell back to. It's not that I didn't have others to guide me. Ron Yrigoyen and Tom Price were the Upper-Class heroes of Provo High School. They were on the cutting-edge of "New Wave" And Tom's younger brother, William Price, had a Vespa by around 1984. Unfortunately, William was more of a Thompson Twins kind of guy, but he taught me a lot about Mods. One of the many girls who broke my heart, Beth Arbizu, tried as hard as she could to make me understand what it was I liked about Ska. Even my older Brothers and Sisters made major contributions to my musical upbringing. My brother, David was a total Anglophile. I remember sitting in his bedroom as a youngster, listening to the original Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy radio broadcasts, and Monty Python records. My sister, Marianne, was a Bob Marley fan. My other sister, Becky was one of those Pre-and-Post New Wave goddesses that is still talked about. My Brother, Walt was one of those guys who was at every Punk show, but stood at the edge of the Mosh Pit and acted as a referee. Today, Walt is a major contributor in the Outdoor Sports world.

Fast-forward a couple of years; I graduated in 1986, still not sure of who I was. Half Preppie, half Punk, half Skater and half Dungeons & Dragons Geek. It wasn't until 1988 that I found my calling. Within a month's time, I saw Quadrophenia, Absolute Beginners, and came across both Moon and Unicorn Records releases at a local Record shop, Reptile Records. In 1989, I made a pilgrimage to London, and attended the London International Ska Festival. This changed my life.


Allow me to pause here, Dear Reader, to remind you that this was before the days of the Internet, before the days of MTV's Skaturday and before real big shit. I bought every piece of Unicorn and Moon vinyl I could find. I was at every Thrift Store buying 3-button suits and inch-wide ties. Doc's were hard to come by, but I was buying Creepers and Monkey Boots at every turn.


And suddenly, I saw the Silent Conspiracy. There were people in my town, about my age, who were diggin' what I was. I started noticing Docs and Monkey Boots and, well... Mini Skirts. I saw Vespas and Lambrettas on the streets. I saw Porkpie hats and Ben Shermans. Mods, Rudies, and Skins. Wow, and I was in Utah! I was part of something that was truly underground, and it felt really cool. I met Deacon and Reese at Checker Auto, and joined English Rose Scooter Club, the only club in existence at the time (and the oldest existing Scooter Club in Utah). I started a Ska show on a local radio station, KRCL, with a good friend, Jack Rude. And, I was asked to manage Stretch Armstrong, one of the local Ska-influenced bands of the era.

The best thing about all of this was that when you were there, people got it. Whether you were at a Ska show, or a Scooter Rally, a bowling ally, or at an ABC Ska Society dance, people got it.

This is my point.

I got married in 1993, and dropped-out. I came back a few years later, and was, to be honest, saddened.

Today, I get asked what Suits have to do with Ska, what Scooters have to do with Ska. Today, I see Scooter Rallies filled with "Kimco" and "People" machines, Scooter clubs filled with people who have never heard of Mods, and "Ska" bands who've never heard of Prince Buster.

Even some of the best bands today don't look like they listen to what they play. And the people on the Internet who know the most about Ska, don't give two shits about the tangents.

OK, so, I'm an elitist. I no longer count that as an insult. I'm tired of going to shows and being the only one with a tie, jacket, Fred or Bennie. I'm tired of looking at Deborah Harry or Gwen Stephanie wannabes.

It's not that I think that to be a "true" Ska fan, you have to dress like this or dance like that, or also have to be into the other. Ska fans have historically been the penultimate example of integration, and not just racially. Every walk of life is typically represented at a Ska show. It seems to be clear, however, that the Iconic Trinity of Rudy, Mod and Skin, while not dead yet, is obviously on life-support. Any day now, someone's going to pull the plug.

The obvious exception to this argument is The Skins. In my experience, Skinheads don't go away. They may tone-down their aura to codify employers as they age, and they may end-up spending more time at home with the wife and kids, and less time at the pub, but there seems to be far fewer "used-to-be" Skinheads as there are "used-to-be" Mods and Rudies. With Skins, it's more about family and finances, and less about fads and fashions. Skinheads don't die, they just get mortgages.

The bottom line, I guess, is that things seem to be so different, today. "Ska" as a subculture is a salt that has lost it's flavor. Pajama pants and Jester Hats have replaced the Suit & Tie. The "look how wacky I am!", Austin Powers look has replaced the quiet, sophisticated James Bond look.

The impact that the entire sphere of the so-called "Ska" subculture had on me is enormous. At 37 years of age, I am still unable to wear pleated or straight-legged pants. I have to peg every pair of trousers that my wife brings home. I cannot wear ties that are more than an inch and a half wide. I just can't do it. It's almost impossible for me to let my hair grow longer than an inch. I don't discount other styles. Not at all. I listen to and enjoy a vast variety of music. I have friends and associates from across the spectrum. But I found my style years ago, and ain't nothin' gonna change it.

Maybe it was small, and the bands didn't get the money they deserved, but, I miss... I really miss... The Scene.