Antony John - Five Flavors of Dumb

Please dont put your life in the hands
Of a rock n roll band
Wholl throw it all away

Dont Look Back in Anger
Oasis

CHAPTER 1

For the record, I wasnt around the day they decided to become Dumb. If Id been their manager back then Id have pointed out that the name, while accurate, was not exactly smart. It just encouraged people to question the bands intelligence, maybe even their sanity. And the way I saw it, Dumb didnt have much of either.

But they werent in the mood to be reasoned with. Theyd just won Seattles annual Teen Battle of the Bands, and they were milking their fifteen minutes for all it was worth. Never mind that no one else at school even knew the contest existed, the fact is they won . The Battle organizers had even hired Baz Firkinlead singer of defunct band The Workin Firkinsto mentor their inevitable ascent toward rock stardom during three all-expenses-paid recording sessions. Baz hadnt heard them yet, of coursehe wasnt up for parole for another weekbut he was a man with experience and connections, both of which were sure to come in handy as soon as he was released.

Meanwhile, Dumb celebrated their victory by giving an unscheduled performance on the school steps first thing Monday morning. It would have been the most audacious breach of school rules ever if the teachers hadnt been attending their weekly staff meeting; instead, the band cranked up their amps, to the delight of their numerous groupies. I wanted to ignore them, but they were strategically blocking the school entrance, and hustling past would have marked me out as anal-retentive (Doesnt want to be late for homeroom!) and indirectly critical (Didnt even look at the band!).

Or maybe not, but thats how it seemed to me.

Anyway, I stuck around for a few minutes and watched the threesome thrashing their poor defenseless instruments with sadistic abandon: swoony Josh Cooke on vocals, his mouth moving preternaturally fast and hips gyrating as if a gerbil had gained unauthorized access to his crotch; Will Cooke, Joshs non-identical twin brother, on bass guitar, his lank hair obscuring most of his pale, gaunt face, hands moving so sluggishly you would think theyd been sedated; Tash Hartley on lead guitar, her left hand flying along the neck of the guitar while she stared down her audience like a boxer sizing up her opponent before a fight. Not that anyonemale or femalewould be stupid enough to take on Tash.

I was going to slide past them as soon as they finished a song, but as far as I could tell that never actually happened, so I just held back. Anyway, the scene on the steps was oddly compelling, even aesthetically pleasing. The bright, late September sun glinted off the teen-proof tempered windows. Beside me, Kallie Sims, supermodel wannabe, was a vision of flawless dark skin and meticulously flat-ironed hair. Even Dumbs instruments looked shiny and cared for. And all the while I could feel the music pounding in my hands, my feet, my chest. For a moment, I understood how Dumb might have won the Battle of the Bands on pure energy alone. I could even believe they were set to conquer the worldif the world were a small public high school in a predominantly white, middle-class suburb of Seattle.

There must have been a hundred of us out there when I first noticed someone staring at me. I didnt even know her, but when I smiled she looked away guiltily. Then someone else glanced over. She tried to look nonchalant, but was clearly confused to see me with a group of mostly popular kids, listening to music of all things.

Suddenly I couldnt watch the band, couldnt enjoy the scene. As I scanned the crowd I saw more pairs of eyes trained on me, each of them wondering what I was doing there. And there was whispering too, which should have seemed comicalwhy go to the trouble of whispering around me , right?but instead made me feel even more self-conscious. I just wanted to make it to the end of the song, but I was beginning to wonder if that would ever happen.

Finally Dumb relaxed, like they were pausing to draw breath. I couldnt bear to move, however; couldnt face drawing even more attention to myself. I watched as the performers knelt down before their amplifiers and turned a few knobs. Then, smiling at each other, they attacked their instruments with renewed vigor, spewing out noise that replicated a small earthquake, while Josh gave us an unparalleled view of his tonsils. Satisfied at having initiated seismic activity on school grounds, they played on even when smoke started rising from Wills ampmaybe they figured it was only appropriate that they should provide their own pyrotechnics as well. They didnt even seem to mind when the small black box, clearly fed up with this particular brand of thrash-scream cacophony, began sparking, then flaming gently.

Kallies supermodel posse was first to evacuate, presumably afraid that the chemicals in their hair might spontaneously combust, although Kallie herself stuck around. This surprised me. Gradually everyone else shuffled off as well. They knew things were about to turn seriously ugly and didnt want to be at the crime scene when punishments were being doled out. Eventually only Kallie and I remained. Together we watched Dumbs unofficial concert end in a literal blaze of glory. Even as I struggled to avoid inhaling the noxious smoke, I couldnt help but admire the showmanship.

I cant say when Wills amplifier stopped producing sound altogether and threatened to ignite the schools electricity supply. But I remember exactly how I felt as I raised my arms and screamed at the top of my lungsthe kind of obnoxious, over-the-top response I normally reserved for our sports teams own goals and air-balled free throws. I remember my shock as Kallie raised her arms too, like she thought I was seriously impressed with the band. And I can still picture Josh and Will and Tash smiling and pumping their fists in the air. But most of all I remember how great it felt to vent, whatever my motives, to share an animal scream with four other people who gave even less of a crap than I did. For a moment I even allowed myself to believe that the blackened air was nothing less than the whole damn school disintegrating into beautiful, blissful oblivion... right until the principal burst through the main door, drowning everything and everyone in foam from a gratuitously large fire extinguisher.