Bensalem High School, 1988.
The house lights dimmed.
My band hit the final song of our set—“Rock & Roll All Nite” by Kiss—and all hell broke loose.
But before we get to the chaos, let me rewind the cassette a few years.
The One That Got Away
I was just a kid—middle school, maybe eighth grade—when my older brother played Battle of the Bands with his friends at Bensalem High. They didn’t have a bass player, and I practically begged to join. I had the bass. I had the passion. What I didn’t have was a driver’s license or facial hair, so I got a hard “no.”
I wasn’t bad. I was just… not cool enough yet. Fair.
They went on without a bassist, and I went home with a chip on my shoulder and a dream lodged firmly in my gut:
Someday, I’ll play Battle of the Bands.
Bringing It Back from the Dead
Flash forward to my senior year—and guess what?
No Battle of the Bands. It had vanished like perms and parachute pants should have.
So, I did what any determined teenage bassist with dreams of rock glory would do:
I went to a teacher and asked how we could bring it back.
He pointed me toward the Chess Club, of all places—they needed a fundraiser.
Now, this might sound like the setup for a sitcom, but I pitched it:
“A rock show. Live bands. Multiple genres. And in between acts, students with random talents—magic, juggling, whatever—fill the gaps.”
The Chess Club teacher asked if it could raise money.
I looked him dead in the eyes and said, “Absolutely.”
Spoiler: We sold out the auditorium.
Morning announcements hyped the event.
Kids bought tickets.
The bands signed up.
And the Chess Club? I still wonder if they spent the profits on gold-plated pawns and bishops carved from rare obsidian.
The Musical Class War of ’88
Now, let’s talk about music snobs in high school during the ‘80s.
You had the Prog Rockers—Rush and Yes and odd time signatures that gave them nosebleeds of superiority.
The Jazz guys. The Classical purists.
Then the “Heads,” who lived on Zeppelin, Floyd, and Sabbath.
Then the Metalheads, who would fight you over the proper pronunciation of “Mustaine.”
And me? I liked it all.
U2, Metallica, Huey Lewis, Jaco, INXS, Zeppelin—if it had a groove or a riff, I was in.
So we built a setlist to reflect that:
“Sunday Bloody Sunday” – U2
“Need You Tonight” – INXS
“Babe I’m Gonna Leave You” – Led Zeppelin
And we closed with the chaos bomb: “Rock & Roll All Nite” – KISS
Now, here’s the kicker.
Today? That would all be labeled Classic Rock on the same radio station.
But in 1988, those songs lived on totally different islands.
Mixing them was musical blasphemy.
The Riot
By the time we launched into KISS, the audience had snapped.
People were out of their seats, running around, screaming.
Some were yelling insults at us.
Police showed up. I’m not even kidding.
It was like we’d brought an entire cafeteria’s worth of genre tribes into one room and dared them to coexist.
And they said: Nope. We riot.
We didn’t win.
We took second place.
First went to a wholesome family act called The Solleys who sang “Under the Boardwalk.”
(They didn’t start a riot. So, sure.)
Third went to my buddy Kyle’s band—an original prog rock group that honestly should’ve taken first. Those guys were next-level talented.
There was a Metallica cover band too—and let’s be real—they were probably the ones most outraged by our INXS/U2 crime spree.
Zeppelin fans? Too stoned to care.
The Bigger Picture
Looking back, I wish the other bands had seen the bigger picture.
Without that fundraiser, without the planning and coordination and morning announcements and chess-club partnership—there wouldn’t have been a show.
For many of those bands, it was their first time playing live.
But that’s high school, isn’t it?
Genres are sacred.
Lines are drawn.
And if you mix INXS with anything “cool,” you’re asking for blood.
Still, I wouldn’t change a thing.
I got to bring back Battle of the Bands.
I got to play in front of a sold-out auditorium.
And I learned that music—real music—is about taking risks, shaking cages, and playing what moves you.
Even if it starts a riot.