Book One: In The Beginning

Picture, if you will, a darkened hall, an empty stage, and a music scene so bereft of humor, revelry, and daring that no one cared anymore. Enter Nuke The Whales. As a bolt of lightning from a cloudless sky; like a fiery chariot sent from the heavens; a host of saviors came bearing guitars, drums and voices, making a joyful noise so loud they could not be ignored. Shouting from the rooftops, singing in the glen, trumpeting the goodwill of happy souls, and stepping on toes right and left, four young men heralded the beginning of the end of the Huntsville music scene. Calling themselves a name so irreverent that few could give it much serious consideration, Walter Berry, Phil Proctor, Philip Franklin, and John Harris brought forth on this continent a new frontier, conceived in puberty, manifesting its destiny in the liberty that had so long ago vanished from the local musical milieu. These four tempest-tossed troubadours brought rock and roll back to life, giving it a new name--one that can't be spoken in polite company. And they saw what they had done and called it good. And on the seventh day they rested.



December 30, 1980: In a coffee house not far from the dying hub of a once-prosperous mountain hamlet, Nuke the Whales exploded onto this earth. In a blast of warm beer, this prefab four marched fearlessly through songs both foreign and familiar: Nancy Sinatra's "These Boots are Made for Walking," The Ramones' "I Wanna Be Sedated," Tennessee Ernie Ford's "Sixteen Tons." "Psycho Killer" by Talking Heads, "Boogie 'Til You Puke" by Root Boy Slim, and many, many, many, many, many, many...uh, where were we? Oh yeah, there were also original compositions that grappled with some of the most sensitive issues of the day. They tackled rampant drug abuse in "Quaaludes in my Cheerios," the weapons buildup of the Cold War in "Nuke 'Em," the tense issue of the environment vs. nuclear power in "The Meltdown," and the ongoing problem of high taxes in "Dime-a-Dance Girl." These boys were on a mission, and they were on fire. Those who were there that winter evening at the Kaffeeklatsch some quarter century ago were changed for evermore. As they sat upon the mantle, they quoth the raven, evermore. Here's to the frog on the mantlepiece.