I found myself at Frost Amphitheater on Friday, near the front of a snaking line full of drunk, high and hyped middle-aged people — simply bursting at the seams in anticipation of the upcoming performance by the reggae-rock band Slightly Stoopid. Waiting for my pro-tempore photographer, Helen Griffith ’30, I watched the people in line with the hope of preserving my phone battery for the rest of the night (spoiler alert: it died by 8:30 p.m.).
After coughing obnoxiously loudly and earning a few concerned looks, I assured the couple in front of me, “I’m coming off the freshman flu. I swear I’m not contagious or anything!”
They furrowed their brows, and the woman said, “Girl, you need to get yourself some honey! Pollen would do wonders for you.”
Her partner echoed her in a gnarly surfer accent. Like this couple, each person I spoke to in line was as authentic and eclectic as they were outspoken. Dressed in band tees and baseball caps and clutching a beer in one hand and throwing a “rock on” symbol in the other, everyone mirrored the punk vibes of the band they were there to see. That night, Slightly Stoopid came in guns blazing and delivered a truly adrenaline-pumping performance. I loved it!
The band’s punk-rock attitude can be traced all the way back to 1995 when, while still in high school, main vocalists and multi-instrumentalists Miles Doughty and Kyle McDonald and drummer Adam Bausch founded Slightly Stoopid. With big dreams and a rich SoCal background, the group had endless goals and the musicality to match. Experimenting across genres, Slightly Stoopid combines rock, folk, reggae, blues, funk and hip-hop, among other genres. The group has since gone global, playing alongside legends such as Barrington Levy, Bob Weir of the Grateful Dead and Snoop Dogg. Despite their acclaim, the group has always called the Golden State home, returning during each tour, just like they did Friday night.
Leaning over the barricade, I felt the crowd’s excitement match mine as the first of three openers sauntered onto the stage. DENM, a SoCal reggae-rock artist, kicked off the night on a high note that never dropped. He closed with his hit “Wild Trip,” an ode to all those loved and lost, before metaphorically passing the mic to the next opener, The Hip Abduction. Another genre-jumping band, the Boston natives used strange instruments like bottle-cap clusters, keys and bongos to create background music that, at times, sounded like a high-stakes horror-movie chase. Saving the best for last, the third opener, The Elovaters, was probably my favorite of the night. Their crowd control and electrifying stage presence — a menagerie of stunning vocals and deep passion — set the bar high for Slightly Stoopid.
Around 8:30 p.m., the big guns finally arrived.
Starting strong, the band showed a mastery of lyrical flow with their original song “Wicked Rebel.” Doughty and McDonald, a demented duo, shredded their guitars until the end of the second song “Bandelero,” which concluded with a sweet trombone solo by Andy Geib. Just as the groove had settled in and Helen and I had begun to sway with the killer consistency of the music, Doughty and McDonald swapped guitars and places, throwing me and my notes way out of whack for a moment.
By around the sixth song, “Prophet,” my ears began to pound with the beat of the music. The volume of the instrumentals hyped up the crowd, but lowered the quality of the vocals significantly. This is a complaint I harbored throughout the entire show.
However, by song seven, “Good Life,” the ringing was replaced by the repetition of “hey ye yeah yeah yeah” all around me. Until then, I hadn’t realized just how many people were present. We stood at the front of a sea of anchovies, moving their hands back and forth like a wave propelled by the moon — or, in this case, McDonald, expertly leading the crowd.
The songs now began to blend together into a rhythmically monotonous soup, flavorful enough to remember the feeling of joy but lacking the differentiation to recall details.
Soon, though, a new bombshell entered the villa: Chali 2na. With his captivating stage presence, he brought some substance back to the metaphorical soup. It was impossible to take my eyes off him as he jumped around the stage and rapped with expert flow. I even made note of his silly faces in my journal.
To wrap up the set, the band paid tribute to the Grateful Dead with “Franklin’s Tower,” followed by an unforgettable saxophone solo by Daniel “DeLa” Delacruz. I knew one could shred a guitar, but until Friday night, I had no idea it was possible to shred a saxophone.
By the end of the set, I was naturally contemplating which band I enjoyed most, comparing one to the next. But as every member of all four acts gathered onstage to sing the last two songs as one, I remembered what live music is all about: enjoying a moment in time together.
After all, as Doughty professed to the crowd at one point, “There’s no place better to be than right now!”