Music: Just Can’t Stop It

The first time I met Dave Wakeling was more than 20 years ago. I was about 15. I wasn’t old enough to get into clubs to see concerts, but my middle school was up the street from the big Rock club in town, Bogart’s, and I always knew who was coming to town — what bands I was missing, essentially.

I remember seeing that The English Beat, my favorite band from my favorite genre of music (Ska), was playing the club. I schemed ways to sneak in, thought about just hanging by the back door and listening. But, 13 at the time, I knew I’d have a better chance getting a cop to buy beer for me than getting into that club (all-ages shows were still a ways off).

Two years later, I’m in high school and I had begun hanging out by that backstage door in order to get autographs from some of my favorite musicians (and, yes, listen to the shows outside). Andy Summers? Way cool. The Bears?

Hilarious and gracious. X? Nicest Punk rockers you’ll ever meet.

One night, General Public, the band Wakeling formed with co-vocalist Ranking Roger after The Beat just kind of dissolved, were playing Bogart’s and I was ready in my position, waiting to meet Dave and Roger. Sweeping around the corner, all smiles, Wakeling says, “What are you doing waiting out here, it’s freezing. Come in!” Suddenly, I’m walking through the backstage of Bogart’s, across the stage, into the “pit” and watching a soundcheck. Definitely the highlight of that year for me. That and discovering Clearasil.

Calling Dave Wakeling a “nice guy” is an understatement, one repeated infinitely when discussion of Wakeling ensues between people who have met him. Check davewakeling.com‘s message boards and you’ll find innumerable testimonials. Hell, it’s the first line of his bio on the front page: “Dave Wakeling is a hell of a nice guy!”

So 20 years later, the inner music geek/freak reared its head ferociously as I sat backstage at Riverbend on a couch next to one of my favorite singer/songwriters/musicians since I’m 12. Through an impossibly simple “press credential” process (essentially involving an e-mail to Dave), a few friends and me are backstage walking by members of 311 and Matisyahu’s band. Dave’s small tour van sits modestly in the parking lot, shadowed by a half-dozen behemoth tour busses. He’s a couple of weeks into an extensive summer tour with the groups, all fans of The Beat growing up. Wakeling seems to be loving every second.

“Just having another musician tell you how much your songs meant to them while they were deciding to become a musician, you just can’t put a price on it,” Wakeling says earnestly. “I’ve heard from people like Johnny Marr and even Pete Townshend, telling me how much my songs meant to them. Priceless. That’s the word I use.”

With a penetrating charm and wit, Wakeling tells stories from the old Beat days and talks about politics, the history and dissolution of the band and his current ensemble, an airtight bunch that nails the original sound expertly. Meeting heroes should always be this easy.

“The Punky Reggae party was the start of it,” Wakeling says of the Beat’s origins in working-class Birmingham. “We had two DJs at the party, one in that corner and one in that corner. If you played all Punk songs, people would be like (makes swirling noise), then burn out. If you played all Reggae 12-inches, people ended up leaning on the wall, nodding, dancing on the inside. But if you mixed it up, a Reggae 12-inch, then a couple of Punk ones, then more dub — mix it up like that, it was like a vortex and the floor got wilder and wilder. So the two styles tempered each other. The Punk injected some energy and the Reggae smoothed out the burned-out edges of the Punk.

“We were sitting on the floor at one of the parties, and Andy (Cox), the guitarist from The Beat, said, ‘What if you got the two elements in the same three-minute Pop song?’ ”

While making the night’s set list before the band plays, Wakeling asks my companions and me if we have any requests. “Twist and Crawl,” I blurt out. It’s a song I could write a book about, as far as my relationship with it. Wakeling gives me a friendly “No shit” look and says, “That one’s in there.”

Besides running the hits on the road, Wakeling continues to write. He has an album in the works featuring new songs and maybe a few dug-up nuggets from the old days that were left unfinished. And his bigger-than-you’d-think fan club, which happens to include a lot of influential musicians, has kept him creative. He talks excitedly about some songs he’s written with Electronica duo Thievery Corporation and possible writing sessions with Johnny Marr and New Radicals’ Greg Alexander.

Wakeling seems open to the idea of reuniting with the whole original band (though it failed when VH1 tried to get them to play together on Bands Reunited). But lawyer talk over the name (Roger has been performing overseas under different but similar band monikers) and disinterest from some members means the man with a trademark Teardrop guitar in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame will continue to drive the Beat train alone for now.

As 311 plays, I am standing next to Wakeling watching from the side of the stage. He periodically leans over to tell me something, at one point towards the end of the night saying, “Roger and I will probably do something together again at some point.”

Walking to my car later, I couldn’t help but geek out. I’m sure I had a ridiculous grin and an afterglow probably hovered over my car the whole way home. I put on The Beat’s debut, Just Can’t Stop It, and tried to imagine what the 13-year-old me would say if someone told him I’d be hanging out for several hours with Dave Wakeling one day.

Meeting heroes should always be that easy.

This article appears in Feb 20-26, 2008.