How The Aquabats conquered The Floating Eye of Death by doing a complete 180 on their ska roots
1997 was the peak of ska in the mainstream. Reel Big Fish and The Mighty Mighty Bosstones both released Billboard-topping albums with the biggest hits of their careers. The theme song to Good Burger came from Less Than Jake. And although it was yet to be immortalized by Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater, 1997 was also the year Goldfinger blessed the world with Superman. But like every niche genre that receives a taste of the zeitgeist, there was a strong undercurrent of bands that never quite broke out. Though I love many less successful ska bands such as MU330, Skankin’ Pickle, and the Voodoo Glow Skulls, the undisputed cult ska heroes were The Aquabats.
The band’s sophomore record The Fury of The Aquabats! isn’t much more than a footnote in Travis Barker’s career to many. But to ska fans, however, it might as well be the Holy Grail. The band successfully avoided the pitfalls of their costumed superhero gimmick with silly yet heartfelt songs that largely focused on stories of adventure and peril. Over the course of roughly an hour, the Aquabats battle midget pirates, a two-headed cat, a Martian woman they’re infatuated with, and a scourge known simply as “Powdered Milk Man.” The record’s singles received some minor airplay on MTV, but mostly stayed relegated as an underground treat for ska junkies.
Two measly years later, the ska bubble had already burst. This went beyond just its mainstream relevancy; the departure of Tomas Kalnoky from then-burgeoning band Catch-22 was a point of major contention within the scene. Other bands, such as The Suicide Machines, were starting to drift towards a more conventional punk/hardcore sound. Already feeling pigeonholed to a now-fleeting genre, The Aquabats saw the opportunity to explore uncharted musical territory.
This resulted in 1999’s The Aquabats Vs. The Floating Eye of Death! Despite the album’s artwork sporting a similarly goofy aesthetic to the band’s earlier work, Floating Eye was indebted far more to experimental, synth-laden new wave than it was to brassy ska punk. On the final track of Fury, The MC Bat Commander at one point sings “Devo is my favorite band,” which now seems like foreshadowing towards where he and his fellow heroes would be heading in the future. For an already weird band, The Aquabats were about to get much, much weirder.
Opening track Sequence Erase is a stark contrast from Fury’s opener, the iconic Super Rad. Rather than jumping headfirst into an immediately danceable hook, the song builds a moody atmosphere through a combination of feedback, a rickety keyboard lead, and washed-out vocals. Eventually, an onslaught of harsh, droning horn parts is added to the mix, followed by the rest of the band. Although the song feels like it’s becoming bigger and accelerating, it continually stays midtempo, an auditory equivalent of an optical illusion. For this reason, it reminds me of the Minutemen track The Glory of Man. Not too shabby for a band that up to that point was known for ska songs about eating fried chicken and skateboarding.
The guitar work is another serious departure from the band’s earlier work. In lieu of up-strummed open tuning, the band opted for a jagged, almost sinister tone (aided with the help of palm-muted choruses.) The Devo influence is especially strong in this aspect. There are moments where this track reminds me of Mongoloid or even something from the Hardcore Devo compilations.
Anti-Matter (which samples the notorious Suburban Lawns song Janitor) is another indicator the Aquabats are a little more out there this time around. The song is downright cynical towards music culture and listenership, likely a response to the band feeling denigrated as a gimmick ska band. Even though the song remains tongue-in-cheek, it adds to the tension and uneasiness Sequence Erase established. This playful satire is also seen in Lovers of Loving Love, an almost disgustingly sappy ode to heteronormativity. The repeated “you are a girl, you see / I am your boy to be” might come off as outdated ideas on sexuality. After multiple listens, however, one realizes that very few similarities between the narrator and his lover are actually given, and the two being opposing genders is the primary reason he deems they belong together. At the time of Floating Eye’s release, the band’s label Goldenvoice remarked there was absolutely zero single material on the album. Frankly, I think Lovers of Loving Love is a perfect anti-love song for a decade as irony-poisoned as the 90s.
One thing Floating Eye retains from Fury is the storytelling songs. There’s Lotto Fever, about a man who throws his life away waiting for the sham wishes promised to him by a “magic” fish. Or perhaps there’s Monster’s Wedding, where the narrator finds himself the husband in an arranged marriage involving a court of horrifying monsters. While clearly in line with the band’s ridiculousness, these stories are much less chipper than Fury’s tales of being ambushed by midget pirates. One reason for this is that these stories don’t have happy or even goofy endings; Waiting for Godot has a more complete ending than Monster’s Wedding does.
The bigger reason is the instrumentation of these songs. While horns are still sparingly used from time to time, these stories are mostly tied together by distorted guitars and bloopy, occasionally noisy synth leads. This is a total reversal of Fury, where horn sections drove the songs as some light keyboard helped the bass and drums keep the song’s backbone in line. And while we’re talking about drums, the departure of Travis Barker (aka Baron Von Tito) forced the band to dial back on songs that would require his famously technical and hard-hitting style. As a result, songs on Floating Eye are much more low-energy, favoring subdued hooks and melodies. This works in the band’s favor in my opinion, as it allows for more sonic diversity (which there’s plenty of.)
Some of Floating Eye’s ambitions fall flat. For one thing, there’s Tiny Pants, which is considered by most Aquabats fans to be their worst song. The MC Bat Commander switches between a below-average Elvis impression in the verses to a grating Chipmunkified chorus. The synth preset is also annoying, resembling a child’s toy more than a real instrument. There’s also Monster’s Wedding, which feels a little unfinished in the songwriting department, relying too heavily on lyrics and vocal delivery. For an album almost overflowing with synths, horns, and guitars, this track feels a little sparse.
Although the quality fluctuates a bit in the middle, Floating Eye ends on a high note. There’s Amino Man, a song cowritten by and featuring backing vocals from The Offspring’s Dexter Holland. The song at its core definitely feels like an Offspring track with its crunchy major chords (something missing from most of Floating Eye) and addictive chorus. Again, I fail to see how this album was lacking in single material. However, the song is a satire on steroid addiction, so perhaps Goldenvoice didn’t want to anger The Offspring’s core fanbase.
The album comes to a close with Hello, Good Night. This track seemed destined to be the final one, being structured similarly to a lullaby. It actually reminds me of the children’s music They Might Be Giants used to do. The guitar and piano tones are pillowy, and the song also features, in a stark shift for the album, optimistic lyrics. It’s an uplifting song reminding you that even if you’ve had a rough day of misfortune, that day will be over when you say good night and go to sleep. A choice fade-out on the repetition of “good-bye” brings the album to its end.
Unsurprisingly, an album with a Suburban Lawns sample and a song called Tiny Pants didn’t do well commercially. Floating Eye had no single, and the budget Goldenvoice gave The Aquabats for a music video was used on an unsuccessful TV pilot instead. Many of the remaining songs from the forty(!) recorded during the Floating Eye sessions would be tossed onto a compilation record the following year. Due to the failure of the album and TV pilot, fluctuating line-up changes, and Goldenvoice shutting down operations permanently, the Aquabats would end up in a semi-hiatus until 2004, when they were signed by The Offspring’s Nitro Records. 2005’s Charge would see them take their shift from Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo! to Freedom of Choice. They’ve stayed on this course of new wavey power-pop ever since (although they still appear at just about any nostalgia-driven ska festival who will take them.) But perhaps most importantly, they finally landed a successful TV project with The Aquabats! Super Show, which ran from 2012 to 2014, and has just recently had some revival mini-episodes (and their first new music since 2011) crowdfunded.
While The Aquabats have done well for themselves in the second wind of their career, Floating Eye remains my favorite album from them. I love the album’s weird forays experimental post-punk and new wave, all while keeping their goofy ska aesthetic intact. Although some songs are stronger than others, I think it’s a true achievement, and one that deserves a better reputation than “that weird album that almost killed their career.” In fact, it’s one of two records from 1999 that almost kick-started what could have been the fourth wave of ska. Could this be foreshadowing for a part two? Let’s just say I won’t be Wasting My Life procrastinating on my next article.
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