Narrator: This week in Behind the Music: “What Went Wrong?” We take a look at one of rock’s most notorious duos of the latter half of this year. So get ready to rock out as Vh-1 takes you behind the music with Technical Infant Rock Syndrome.
Bailey: Yeah, the name has always been a problem. When I came up with the idea for the band I knew the only thing to call it was Technically Excellent, like our musicianmanship. I didn’t play an instrument then, but I already knew I’d be the creative force behind the duo.
Scott: She said what? She’s probably whacked out on Robitussin again. When God told me to start this band he told me to take two of every drug, and then to call ourselves Sudden Infant Rock Syndrome, a name that allowed us to combine our passion for rocking with our kitschy fascination for all things crib death.
Narrator: Accidentally or not, the two were mercilessly shaking up the rock world like a child that wouldn’t stop crying.
Scott: I guess we’re kind of an unconventional band, seeing as how there’s only two of us. And we both play the bass. And neither of us sings. But I have been known to play When the Levee Breaks on kazoo before every single song.
Bailey: These days it’s not just about the music, it’s more about the image. We knew we needed a gimmick. That’s when we came up with the idea of dressing up as a priest and a naughty altar boy. Scott was the altar boy. Most people thought it was weird, but it did score us that NAMBLA gig.
Scott: Before we went out and bought a bass, let alone two, we had to decide what to wear on stage. We each had our signature item: me with my trusty leather chaps and sweet tats, Bailey with her Slash top hat. But we just couldn’t decide: unitards or jumpsuits?
Bailey: Jumpsuits! Obviously! What do you think this is, Cirque Du Soleil?
Scott: Unitards! I mean, this isn’t Cirque Du Soleil for godsakes.
Bailey: I still remember our first gig at a Starbucks. We were so stoked to finally be performing in front of people. But Scott tried to add to our notoriety by biting the head off of a small dog. Needless to say it was an arduous and time-consuming process during which the audience got bored and left.
Scene: Scott holding a struggling beagle in his arms while he tries to bite around it’s head
Scott: Stop squirming, Checkers. I’m trying to cement my place in rock and roll history!
Bailey: After our first gig we started getting into kooky, far-out religions, like Catholicism. This period of our musical pubescence was characterized by heavy sitar usage, which was unfortunate because neither of us knew how to play a sitar.
Narrator: The band was at the top of its game, having just released its first direct-to-video release, “The Magical Mystery LSD Freakout,” when tragedy struck. Tragedy in the shape of a 1984 Chevy Pinto.
Scott: Yeah, I lost both of my arms in non-consecutive car accidents. But I dealt with it the way I deal with all of my personal tragedies, by searching deep inside for the strength to carry on, and also by renouncing God.
Bailey: It was hilariously tragic.
Narrator: With Scott still reeling from the loss of both playing arms, Bailey was confronting her own demons that lurked at the bottom of a bottle.
Bailey: I was addicted to Robitussin. At first I just did it for fun, but then I couldn’t stop coughing without it. I was on a grape flavored path to self-destruction. What started off as a creative stimulant turned into a larynx-coating dose of serious addiction.
Narrator: A serious addiction … to rock.
Bailey: It also inspired us to write our first rock opera about an androgynous alien rock-star pinball-playing hippy Jesus emotionally crippled by his sudden fame. Unfortunately, it was a commercial and critical failure.
Narrator: Bailey suffered a relapse into her cough-syrup addiction. And Scott lost another limb when a car plowed into the hospital, severing one of his legs before coming to a stop in the maternity ward. As if that wasn’t funny enough, things soon took a turn for the worst. Worse. Worster. Just roll the clip.
Bailey: I started dating Yoko Ono.
Scott: She always was into Asian guys.
Narrator: Things were spiraling out of control like an epileptic on a Spirograph. It was when the situation seemed like it couldn’t get any worse that it didn’t and a Mexican ray of hope shone through the dark clouds of failure.
Bailey: It was Santana! The two of us did a duet with Santana, which I guess makes it a triumvirate.
Scott: It was such a huge hit that the Center for a Drug Free America used it for one of its commercial jingles, the one where a bunch of kids punch their fists through glass and roll it around in heroin at a party. They said it was a powerful piece, but we thought it was kind of trite and contrived.
Bailey: We tried to contact George Clinton, but he wouldn’t talk to us. Our band was defunct and defunked.
Scott: There was only one feasible plan of action-get back together every year for a reunion tour.
Bailey: So make sure to come check us out on our Wycked Scepter Tour!
Scott: You mean the Fantastic Whimsy Tour.
Bailey: I’ll kill you!
Narrator: That ends one of the greatest stories ever told. Except for all the other ones.
Bailey Somers is a senior in the School of Foreign Service and a contributing editor of the Georgetown Voice. Scott Matthews is a senior in the College and a contributing editor of the Georgetown Voice. Don’t stop, get down.
