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The Redcoats are coming, again

By Brian Swarthmore

November 14, 2006

San Diego--If you spent any time at any state college, you probably had a band like the Redcoats. Hell, they probably were NAMED the Redcoats.

For me, my Redcoats were an oldies band that played a lot of SDSU frat parties and beach bars in the mid to late 80’s. They got the name because all the members wore red coats.

The gig takes place at the 710 Beach Club in Pacific Beach, which, as Blind Melon’s, was one of their former haunts, along with Winter’s near SDSU and practically every fraternity party in southern California.

The Redcoats, as I remember them, started out as a bunch of young ‘uns who were fans of the energy of punk rock but preferred the songs of the 50’s and 60’s. It’s still a great formula for a band.

Find a bunch of songs that are forgotten from the last generation and introduce them to a new audience. That’s what I remember the Redcoats doing.

They were the type of band that would play Roadhouse Blues by the Doors and For Your Love by the Yardbirds and throw in a Johnny Cash cover when it was still ironic, not retro-ironic. Hell, retro ironic hadn’t been invented.

Well, maybe the Redcoats invented. I remember seeing the lead singer dance on a bar at a place called Winters (where future Pearl Jam singer Eddie Vedder was the doorman) and introduce Johnny B. Goode by saying, “This song is by Michael J. Fox, who, as we all know, kept rock and roll alive.”

A few minutes later, he fell off the bar.

A few minutes after that, the band sang “Hanky Panky” with exceptionally dirty lyrics, such as “My baby loves to lick my butthole,” and “My baby loves to spank my monkey.”

It was a blast. Especially after a few Coronas, or whatever the beer special was that night. (Maybe it was Long Island Iced Teas.)

Despite being lewd and crude, the Redcoats were a tight, versatile band. Not many groups can play “Rawhide,” and follow it up with “Your Song” or “Piano Man” and a little “My Generation.”

No wonder they were popular with both the local frats at San Diego State and UCSD but also with the winos and drunks at Blind Melon’s where they would hold court between football games.

It was a glorious sight to see a passed-out boozehound next to some big-haired sorority sister in cow-print bike shorts both grooving on the same song – “Oh Boy” by Buddy Holly – and feeling connected for one moment in time.

The women who attended a Redcoats show tended to be very passionate, practically fighting it out to play tambourine. The men could be very passionate too, fighting it out to scream background vocals into a microphone.

One New Year’s gig, there was some guy from either Tappa Kegga Bru or I Felta Thi, who jumped up on a wall behind the band to flash his butt. Without thinking, the band played "Moondance" and followed it up with Brown Eyed Boy.

Ah, yes, I remember it well.

Actually, I don’t. There’s a phrase bandied about among Redcoats fans: If you can remember the shows, you must be in a 12-step program. After all, the group’s big slogan was, “The more you drink, the better we sound.”

Bottoms up.

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