THE WALRUS
SUBMARINE:
THE ORIGINAL BEATLES unCOVER BAND
A rant by Katheryn Laborde
Of this I am certain: one day they will find me,
clutching something -- anything -- delirious and mumbling:
"Not a cover band. Not a cover band. Not."
When our fiddler, Patrick, wants to get even with me for something (anything), he will look at me with an evil glint and announce flatly -- "Kathy, you're in a cover band." I am always so wounded at that moment that I don't think to retort: "Hey, babycakes, so are YOU!" When Ben, our guitarist, casually tells a friend that ‘we play the Beatles,' my radar goes off and I fly across the room to pop my head in and mention: "But it's really, really different!" When some stranger -- usually a musician -- comes up to us before a gig, say at the Kerry Irish Pub, and asks if he can join us on stage because he "knows every Beatles song," I want to thrash him bloody, screaming: "What do you think this is? A campfire sing-a-long?" Truth is, lots of people want to sing along when they hear the name "Walrus Submarine" for the first time, putting two and two together and coming up with a Beatles tribute. Reality is: unless they've seen us and know our (for lack of a better word) shtick, they can't.
I guess I should introduce myself at this point: Hello. My name is Katheryn and I sing with The Walrus Submarine, a six-piece acoustic/ a cappella band that reinterprets the songs of the Beatles. With a background in PR, it is my instinct to promote this band every chance I get. But besides sending out press releases in a timely manner, I have the added duty of erasing the mop top, fab-and-gear image people have as soon as they hear the word "Beatles." And it only gets worse when they realize we wear costumes.
BEATLES WITH A TWIST. TWISTED BEATLES.
It all started about four years ago, when four of us decided to continue a ten-hour Beatles sing-a-long on a chartered bus by forming a group. Kind of a The-Mamas-and-The-Papas-Do-The-Beatles sort of thing. Lots of harmonies, all guitar, very folky. But by the end of our first rehearsal, Elizabeth wanted to do "Tell Me Why" in some Eastern rhythm, and Ben wanted to try "Yes, It Is" as a doo wop number. Two weeks later, I wanted to add a mantra to "Norwegian Wood."
Mark started to wear wigs, and suddenly we all found ourselves to be the objects of his costumer's fantasies. By the time Patrick joined the band -- he hates the Beatles but likes us -- we were dressing in caftans, turbans and saris one gig, and pirate-wear at the next. On S&M night we could appear as Sadists-and-Masochists or Saints-and-Martyrs. Venitian Carnival revelers, Protestants and Native Americans, psychedelic inspirations -- you name it. We added a bass player; we added a Blue Grass suite. We added Mariachi flavors, Renaissance shadings, and Russian passages. We inserted Jamaican rhythms, Irish fiddlings, and Balkan dronings. If you walked into a rehearsal today, you'd find us transforming "Blue Jay Way" into a Gilbert and Sullivan experience. If you walked into a gig tonight, you'd hear old time, country yodeling at the end of "She Loves You."
Not a cover band. Definitely and defiantly -- not.
WHIRLED BEATLES. WORLD BEAT(LES).
One night, Vance DeGeneres (excuse me as I shamelessly name drop, but he IS on television so who can blame me?) was in town and told us we belong in The Village. That's nice, but we live in New Orleans. Others tell us: "Once people discover you....Once you find your niche....Once you catch on...." This gives me strength, but still I wonder at night, as I afix stamps to yet another batch of "Come to our gig!" postcards: Did Dread Zeppelin have this problem? How did Jazz Is Dead market themselves?
If you send me your address I will send you a postcard. When you get that postcard, when you come to our gig, when you sip your beer and ponder a Shape Note version of "Let It Be," I encourage you to marvel at how the human mind can make such connections. But please, if there is a shred of kindess in your soul, do not approach a Walri with: "And which Beatle do YOU play?"
One day, I just may lose it. Maybe I already have.