A FAN’S NOTES : Breakup Ends a Raging Good Time

“Yeeeeeeeeeeeeee-hah!”

--John Drury

That’s how lead singer Drury begins an original Arb song, “Como Se Llama.” That also pretty much captures the Raging Arb and the Redheads Attitude, which is part Yosemite Sam and part beer. Raging Arb’s reputation, as big as all outdoors, inevitably precedes them. Even the Black Death had better PR.

They’ve been eighty-sixed from the Ventura Theatre, Charlie’s, Santa Barbara in general, and were even kicked off the entire Pacific Ocean after a particularly intense booze cruise.

Once, in 1989, at their first gig in two months, they started 45 minutes late and after playing just two songs, took a break. Another time, at the Ventura Raceway, they started late but then wouldn’t stop, even after the races began. So the promoter unplugged them.

Raging Arb exudes the swaggering rebelliousness of the rock ‘n’ roll attitude that Jerry Lee and Elvis had in the ‘50s and that Guns N’ Roses have in the ‘90s.

It is the chip-on-the-shoulder attitude, like Jack Palance in “Shane.” No one ever comes to an Arb gig in a suit and no one is ever mellow. If Sean Penn’s Spicoli character from “Fast Times At Ridgemont High” were real, Raging Arb would be his favorite band.

“We always wanted to just have fun and not be a serious band,” Drury said.

“We want people to get up because they didn’t come to sit,” said Arb guitarist Toby Emery.

“And if they don’t dance, we don’t sound good,” said Arb guitarist Billy McGraw.

There used to be some fights inside their gigs, but not anymore. Things have become more polite now; the fights have moved to the parking lot.

“They want to hear some American music . “

The Blasters

In addition to the myriad items that John Drury merchandises under the Redhead label (still no lunch pails), there is a Redhead watch. It doesn’t work. Perfect.

If Raging Arb had a watch that worked, it would have stopped in the mid-’60s at about the time the second Rolling Stones album came out.

The Redheads always begin with a scorching version of the Yardbirds’ “I’m a Man” and they always end with a 15-minute version of the Rolling Stones’ biggie “Not Fade Away.” Raging Arb plays pumped-up rocking blues more powerful than a locomotive, slower than a speeding boat and sure to have Superman himself dancing.

It is roots rock, right there with the Blasters, Los Lobos, the Beat Farmers, the Paladins and the Tailgators. Just without the deals, the hype, the hits and the label.

There has been one Raging Arb album--one self-produced album in eight years--and it contains eight originals that haven’t aged one bit.

“When the po-lice knocked, those doors flew back.”

Chuck Berry

It will be hard to forget Raging Arb, especially since half the town is wearing their T-shirts.

But it is the end of an era, which evoked subtle recollections from the local music community.

“Bummer,” said Bill Bolland of the Mudheads.

“I used to baby-sit Toby and Ross when they were little kids,” said Mike Fishell of the Convertibles and Garage-a-saurus Wrecks. “But even the Beatles broke up.”

“I think the orbit of the Earth may straighten itself up now,” said Drew Setterfield, the bartender at Charlie’s.

“I really love those guys, but every time I go see them, someone wants to beat me up,” said Frank Barajas of Durango 95.

“I used to be their manager,” said Walter Stowe of Chunk. “One time we were at this Battle of the Bands in Santa Barbara, and I’m telling the promoter that I’m trying to get a rein on these guys; they’re a lot mellower now and all that, when a beer bottle came flying through the window right behind us. . . .”

“Yeeeeeeeeeeeeee-hah!” about covers it.