Having Fun Or Dying Young?
BOOK EXCERPT: Popsicko Oral History
February 12, 2024 would have been Popsicko front man Keith Brown’s 55th birthday. Last year I worked with the surviving members of Popsicko and Big Stir Records on a vinyl re-issue of their self-released 1995 album, Off to a Bad Start, coupled with an oral history of the band featuring quotes from members of Foo Fighters, Pennywise, Nerf Herder, Baby Lemonade and many others. The oral history includes my afterword, excerpted below.
Having Fun Or Dying Young?
The phone started ringing before 8:00am, too early for it to be good news.
This was in 1995, the pre-mobile phone era. I was in my mid-twenties and working as the arts editor for a free weekly paper in my SoCal hometown, while moonlighting as a rock drummer at night.
I was hung over and getting ready for work—definitely in no mood to deal with telemarketers or bill collectors—but my roommates were still asleep, so I picked up the phone to spare them. That’s how I found out my best friend and one-time bandmate, Keith Brown, had died in a car accident.
We were both 26-years-old on that fateful day. I am more than twice that age now.
It was a tragic end to the life of a smart, funny, charismatic and talented young musician who was well on the way to achieving his dreams.
It was also the unofficial end of my youth, which is probably why my emotional wounds from his death never completely healed. I made peace with it over time, but I’m not sure I ever fully accepted it.
Keith’s funeral was a blurry rock and roll wake in Santa Barbara, CA. I spent most of that heartbreaking week with his Popsicko band mates—Tim Cullen, Marko DeSantis and Mick Flowers (among many others). Our lifelong friendships were forged in music, but sealed by a profound sense of loss.
The years passed. People from the Santa Barbara music scene signed record deals, went on world tours and launched careers of various shapes and sizes.
Within Popsicko, Tim had success with the band Summercamp and a solo/songwriting career; Mick did a stint The Rentals; Marko played in Sugarcult and Bad Astronaut. Others moved away, got married, got day jobs and started families.
In other words, we started growing up.
I visited Keith’s grave when I could and listened to the band’s only record, Off to a Bad Start, probably more often than was healthy.
It’s impossible for me to have an objective opinion about Popsicko’s music, close as I was to the band, but one of my favorite tracks from OTABS was always “Hard To Tell”:
Sometimes I drink and yell, what the hell
Having fun or dying young? It’s hard to tell
It’s hard to tell you that I need you
It’s hard to tell you I won’t deceive you
It’s hard to tell you that I’ll change again
I’m sure I can…
That song choice might seem strange given how things played out, but those unapologetic lyrics provided some comfort in the years after Keith’s death.
The track is wry, self-effacing and sadly prophetic in a way that really reminds me of the Keith I knew so well—brash, confident and daring at the mic, but a giving and supportive friend who was usually thoughtful and soft spoken behind the scenes. He wasn’t without his demons back then, but neither was I.
“Nastassja,” often a Popsicko show opener, is another all-time favorite. “Some Mother’s Son,” “Same Old Me” and “Dragging Me Down” too. And I have a soft spot for the song “To Would Have Beens” since it was originally demoed by The Wonderfuls, the high school/college band that I played in with Keith, Greg McIlvaine (of The Hollow Trees) and Dan Kern (lead guitarist for Tsar).
By the time we got through 2020, it was hard to deny that Popsicko’s music and Keith’s memory were fading away—so I reached out to Tim, Marko, and Mick to see if they would answer a few questions about their mostly-forgotten band.
My goal was simple: Type up an oral history of the three surviving band members and post it to my blog for the right kinds of music fans to find. Santa Barbara has a rich musical history—the launching pad for ’90s bands like Toad the Wet Sprocket, Ugly Kid Joe, Lagwagon, Dishwalla, and Snot (to name a few)—but Popsicko was a missing link. I wanted to help remedy that.
The project took on a life of its own from there. That’s how I knew we were doing the right thing.
I won’t lie, putting this oral history together was challenging. With each new email interview I was forced to relive that era, for better or for worse. Some days, when I felt overwhelmed, I wanted to call the whole thing off.
But through it all I kept reminding myself that this was about keeping Popsicko’s music and Keith Brown’s memory alive. I’m hopeful that the oral history and re-released music will find the right audience. (Note: It has so far! All over the world.)
I’m beyond grateful to everybody who has given their time, energy and support to help make this happen.
It’s the least we could do for our long-lost friend and bandmate.
