Rx for Change Could Improve the Bandits’ Chronic Ska

If I could give the Orange County rock scene a Christmas present, it would be for the Grinch to steal all the ska bands.

Maybe that’s too harsh, but local ska is suspect. It’s hard to see how anything creatively fruitful can develop from the formulaic sound of ceaselessly skipping rhythms and mile-a-minute, singsong vocals punctuated by no-brainer punk guitar grinds and tinny, sound-alike horn sections.

The ‘80s ska-reggae scene here produced No Doubt, which quickly mutated into something musically omnivorous and unpredictable, and Sublime, a soulful and adventurous band that used ska only for occasional flavoring. Of the leading ‘90s-vintage bands, Reel Big Fish has catchy hooks, and Save Ferris has spunk, but so far neither has shown much capacity for musical surprise or striking songwriting.

The O.C. punk scene grew into something special because such early leaders as Agent Orange, the Adolescents and Social Distortion showed the way with memorable songwriting that grappled, whether humorously, angrily or desperately, with the life going on around and inside them. Local ska shapes up as escapism for those who want to set aside reality and bounce around for a while.

Now comes a young, talented ska band, the Pharmaceutical Bandits. It would be OK with me if the Grinch spared them but swiped their ska records and left a shelf of Who, Clash, Bob Marley, Elvis Costello and Neil Young.

Still in or barely out of high school, the Bandits are impressionable enough to mimic Reel Big Fish on their album’s opening and closing tracks, “Teen Idol” and “I Don’t Care.” They’re both fun, infectious numbers but fall into the kids-just-being-dopey unambitiousness of the ‘90s local ska movement. “You’re a slut and I think that’s real cool,” 17-year-old Matt Embree sings to his high-school crush in “Teen Idol.” So chivalry isn’t dead, after all. In “I Don’t Care,” the Bandits rush off after school to a girls’ soccer match so they can ogle the players.

Elsewhere, there are signs that the band wants to play for higher stakes. “Valentine’s Day” and “Too Tone” provide emotional ballast with their dark hues and slower rhythms veering away from standard ska toward swing and reggae; Embree also mimics the vocal style of Sublime’s Brad Nowell, so presumably he knows something about the value of singing from your guts, rather than singing with a smirk.

“Valentine’s Day” is a good one that puts a noir-ish cloud over a romantic relationship; guest singer Diana Smallwood’s sweetly plaintive soprano is instrumental in bringing it to life.

While sketchily written, “Too Tone” is at least forthrightly and unabashedly angst-ridden. Can’t they take away your ska-scene membership card for that?

The Pharmaceutical Bandits play very well, without needing any allowances for their youth. There’s a vital spark in their sound, which includes, astonishingly, horn players good enough to take solos that communicate something other than the routine, Pavlovian ska formulas.

My prescription for the Pharmaceutical Bandits would be: Take two old, horn-driven Van Morrison or Sly & the Family Stone albums and call me the morning after the local ska fever subsides.

Maybe I’m wrong and O.C. ska will endure and turn into a credible songwriting force, as did the British Two-Tone ska scene of nearly 20 years ago. Perhaps the Pharmaceutical Bandits can cut through the Silly String wrapping the collective O.C. ska brain and lead the way.

(Available from Antedote Records, P.O. Box 792, Silverado, CA 92676-0792. Or from the Pharmaceutical Bandits, P.O. Box 941, Seal Beach, CA 92720, (562) 493-1746, or e-mail: RxBandits@AOL.com.)

* The Pharmaceutical Bandits play Saturday at Koo’s Cafe, 1505 N. Main St., Santa Ana. 8 p.m. No cover; donations requested. (714) 648-0937.

Ratings range from * (poor) to **** (excellent), with three stars denoting a solid recommendation.