Yipes

n and an allusive recording contract. The venues had changed too, Humpin Hanna’s, Mother’s and Sugar Mountain were gone. The Attic West was in post disco decline. The Stone Toad was trying to find it’s way back to live music, as was Beneath the Street (later Fantasies), both burdened by difficult logistics and limited capacities. Zak’s and the Starship were just getting started along with the an infant punk scene that was already a half a beat late. The Electric Ballroom, Milwaukee’s premier showcase club, found itself with new owners, an odd couple of guys named Chuck and Peter. They would change its name to the Electric Ballroom and later the Palms. The changing times had hit radio a few years earlier, the DJ programed days of underground radio were over. The loss of WZMF was a tragic casualty as a result. FM rock radio was now king, these were the glory days prior to video killing the radio star. Milwaukee had two competitors fighting for market dominance. The old guard with roots dating back nearly to those underground days WQFM, and upstart WLPX a high energy marketing machine trying to be number one on your FM dial. These were, as one website describes it, the halcyon days of Milwaukee radio. Live music in Milwaukee was once again alive and well, at its center was the re-furbished Palms. The calendar was filled with national recording artists covering the entire musical spectrum. Star power from The Ramones, Robert Gordon, Dire Straights, Poco, The Boom Town Rats, Steve Forbert, Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark, A Flock of Seaguls, and three Englishmen who drove a van to the front door and announced “We’re The Police”, made it prominent in the concert market. Regular appearances by regional favorites like Heartsfield, and Randy Hanson’s Machine Gun furthered the club’s following. National acts alone could not fill its four night a week calendar, that was left to the cream of the local bands. Bad Boy continued to fill room with fans and searing guitar solos reminiscent of Aerosmith. From Madison came a group called Punch, and Minneapolis sent the Zeppelin like, Cain. Thursday’s were dime beer nights, where up and coming local bands tried to earn a spot on a Friday or Saturday night. The floor shook to covers of Deep Purple, UFO, Judas Priest, and Thin Lizzy. The walls echoed the crowds cries for “Free Bird” and the strains of “Stairway to Heaven”. People came in droves, DJs from the competing stations hung out together and mingled with local concert promoters or musicians with a night off. The bands were good, the drinks were cold, and the girls were pretty. If you were a band it was the place to play, if you weren’t it was the place to be. And then in walked five guys wearing skinny ties who had been perfecting their show for about a year all over Wisconsin and neighboring Minnesota. They smiled a lot and talked about the Beatles and the Kinks. The rest of the wardrobe was as strange as the ties, bright colors that oddly matched, sneakers, and round glasses. Even their stage set up looked strange, absent were the quintessential double Marshal stacks and massive drum kit, replaced by a modest set of drums and equally modest guitar rigs. They had a crew of one, who strangely used words like please and thank you. He set up an efficient little PA that bookended the rest of the gear, completing a look that was strangely different from all the other bands that played the club. And when they finally they played, a spark caught fire. History tells us it did not burn long, but it did burn brightly. They played with a passion, but the not grimacing in your face I’m a rock star passion that was the so familiar in the club. The looks on these guys faces made it clear they loved what they were playing and what they were doing. That passion pushed the energy on stage to incredible levels, there was a feeling of electricity in the room when they played. In the middle of all that energy there was something unique, they were funny. Not the ha ha funny of slapstick, but clever and witty. It felt like you were cracking inside jokes with your best friend. They didn’t take themselves too seriously, make no mistake about it, they were serious about the music. But they made fun of everything and everyone, including themselves. Their sets included original music, usually a death knell for a local band, and their fans loved it. The covers they played came from the Flamin Groovies, the Monkees, the Animals and the Supremes. It was exciting to be in the room, it was fun! Zimmerman but, there was revolution in the air, a musical revolution. Gone were grimacing guitar solos crying out for va**um to stop the pain. Replaced by searing, tidy guitar riffs that never wasted a single note, over the top of crisp cords with guitar sounds from another era. Missing too was an Inagodanavida like drum solo. In it’s place were flurries of fills to numerous to count, that usually ended on the beat. And if they didn’t, there was a solid bass line holding the whole thing together harkening back to the days of Motown or, dare I say, the Beatles. In the middle of it all was a singer who was antithetical to the standard for a front man on either side of the Atlantic. His wit was quick, his tongue razor sharp, and his humor cerebral. Missing was the aloof gaze scanning the top of the crowds heads while looking at no one. The vocals were delivered with fresh interpretations, full of quirky turns and phrasing, punctuated by animated expressions of face and body. There was a banter between the singer and the crowd, delivered intimately, with each member of the crowd thinking he was speaking directly to them. It started late in Milwaukee, these guys had been hitting it hard at every wide spot in the road throughout Wisconsin and beyond. They perfected their show playing night after night. The band was excellent first and cool second, they never confused those priorities. Success came early in the college town of Madison, and the more cosmopolitan Minneapolis. Although a little late to the party, Milwaukeeans were not about to let some other city lay claim to their band. The guys soon finished first in a showcase competition at the Palms, and from then on there was no looking back. The story goes that this is what led to their recording contract with Millennium / RCA Records, although that deal was done prior to their winning. The next years were a whirlwind of recording, first one and then a second album. After the recordings there were tours to support both of the projects. The time flew by as the band traveled from arena to theater, from showcase club back to arenas; no place was too big or too small. The guys rubbed elbows with rock stars from all genres, some played guitars, some spun records on famous FM radio stations, and some were true icons of “the business”. After a couple of years filled with a brutal schedule, the sales couldn’t support the efforts. The guys came home and the disappointment from the loss of the recording deal took its toll. Sadly, Yipes! played their last show. It ended back in Wisconsin, at home. Now they are home forever, enshrined in the WAMI Hall of Fame. Thirty two years later their contributions and influence finally recognized. There is no list of the musicians they inspired, or the careers that were influenced. Much of that information is lost, living only in the memories of those effected. Given the permanence of information placed on the internet hopefully this induction will allow people to remember a band that took its fun seriously. And believe me, it was fun!