When the boho upstarts at WMNF decided to throw a bash at the Cuban Club in 1982, no one imagined that Tropical Heatwave would grow into a count-down-the-days event, much less celebrate a silver anniversary. Yet here it is: the 25th Heatwave.
It's changed some over the years. But not too much. There are lots more stages and lots more acts. There is less debauchery and a bigger, more diverse crowd. It's less a circus and more a concert. But Heatwave's essential spirit remains intact.
It's hard to pull off eclectic. That's why most music festivals are genre-specific. Yet every year Heatwave manages to put roots-rock, zydeco, punk, Latin, folk, blues, various iterations of world music, and countless hybrids thereof, under its hodge-podge Big Top in Ybor City.
At some point, probably in the '90s, the word got out. The crowd grew beyond its core of aging hippies, hipsters and insiders to include fellows with tassled loafers and ladies with tennis bracelets. Some are just slumming, catching the freak show, but a few let their hair down, and that's fun to watch. We've seen the hippie lady with the long gray hair do the twirl many times, but watching a guy in a Lacoste shirt fall down all fucked up in front of a rockabilly set is priceless.
I've been to most of the Heatwaves since 1985. Not every one has been great, but there have been great performances and moments at every single one. So let's take a look back.
Based on calls Scott Harrell and I made to folks associated with the event over the years, with their replies edited for length, here's a very random oral history of Tropical Heatwave.
BEHIND THE CURTAIN
Janine Farver, WMNF station manager when Heatwave first started: In the very early days, MNF had a popular big band show, and there was this old Carmen Miranda song called "Heatwave." That's what gave us the idea for the name, more so than the later Martha Reeves song. At the first Tropical Heatwave, we had a Carmen Miranda look-alike contest, and it was almost all gay guys in their glory. I don't think very many, if any, women entered.
Mike Mann, manager of the Sound Exchange Store in Pinellas Park and former WMNF volunteer: The first couple were just like throwing things against the wall and seeing what would stick. For the first Heatwave, I went to a restaurant supply place and brought French bread and cheese and pepperoni and rented a microwave. We were making French bread pizzas in the microwave and selling them. I had this great idea to sell Italian ice, so I bought like four cases, and we sold like six little tubs.
Farver: My most vivid Heatwave visual, from our first Heatwave in 1982, will always be watching beer and glass cascading down the marble steps of the Cuban club as hundreds of people were fighting to get up and down them, after someone had overturned an entire cooler of beer at the top of the steps. I kept trying to remember just how big of a liability policy we had purchased.
John Dubrule, WMNF volunteer and one of the founders of Heatwave: We didn't expect a great turnout for the first Heatwave, but we sold it out and made a lot of money. [Attendance estimates of the first Heatwave run from 1,000 to 3,000.] It was an incredible outpouring of support. In those days, the future of the station [which went on the air in '79] itself was still up in the air. Here we had all these people pouring into the Cuban Club and it was like a Sally Field moment: "They love us; they really love us." We got the sense that night that the future was bright.
Rob Lorei, long-time WMNF news director: For the first Heatwave, we had a guy named Oded, who did the Jewish [radio] show, handle the ticket money. He was a very big, fat guy and he had on these baggy pants with huge pockets. He just kept stuffing cash into those pockets, and they kept bulging and bulging and at the end of the night they were ballooning out. Tickets I think were seven or eight bucks. Oded had to have been carrying several thousand dollars in his pockets.
Farver: Seeing Blues legend Bo Diddley perform in front of a band of local blues artists [the Magic Marco Band] during Heatwave '85 was really poignant. Bo had been out of commission as a musician for several years before that Heatwave, and Linda Reisinger and I had gone up to his ranch in Hawthorne, Fla., to persuade him to come down and play. He was so kind and generous to us, and we ended up spending most of the afternoon at his ranch seeing his recording studio in his barn, meeting his family and listening to his daughter perform. I always like to think that Heatwave encouraged him to re-start his career.
Linda Reisinger, WMNF events coordinator for all 25 Heatwaves: People were begging to carry [Bo Diddley's] guitar. He wore this big flamingo hat that someone made for him. People were treating him like a king, and he ate it up.
Randy Wynne, long-time WMNF program director: Nineteen-eighty-six was a pivotal year. The fire marshal announced to us pretty early in the evening that we were sold out and could not let anyone else in. There were still a lot of people who'd bought advance tickets who hadn't gotten in, and people were streaming into Ybor. People were jumping the fence; we almost had some small riots. This was when you could bring in coolers, so the whole thing was much more of a wild, drunken event. Our board [of directors] almost said we couldn't do Heatwave anymore, but insisted that we change the event. The following year, the Sun Ra/NRBQ year, is when we raised the ticket price and capped the ticket sale — at 2,000, I think. We made it a first-class music event instead of a crazy blowout.
Farver: The basement in the early days was a writhing miasma of punks. It was in the era of skinheads. They wore chains and spiky jewelry. There was a lot of moshing. It was dark and hot. There was no A.C. down there. It really did get kind of dangerous down there.
Chuck Prophet, national act, a Heatwave favorite: I don't know about being a Heatwave favorite, but surely I'm one of the favorites in Randy's [Wynne] price range. [Laughs.] When he's at home and nobody's around, if he wants to listen to Van Morrison or Bob Dylan, I'm not gonna hold that against him.
Reisinger: When we went to a two-day event [in '93, '94 and '95], I don't know what we were thinking. The staff was exhausted, and we really didn't make any money. For the crowd, it takes more emotional and physical energy to do Heatwave than to sit out in a park like at the Tampa Bay Blues Festival or Clearwater Jazz Holiday. One night of Heatwave is about all people can handle.
FROM THE STAGE
Cameron Dilley, longtime WMNF volunteer: With the stages in such proximity, the band has to win an audience right away or the crowd will start draining off. They've got to grab the audience by the throat and keep shaking until the set's over. That's part of what gives Heatwave such an unusual energy, and such great live experiences.
Paul Wilborn, former journalist, now creative industries manager for the city of Tampa, who played Heatwave in '84 and '86 with his band The Pop Tarts: For a local band in the early '80s, playing Heatwave was a real validation. It was also an opportunity to play; one of our big things back then was a lack of venues. There were maybe two places that would let you play original music.
Joe Popp, frontman for the band Joe Popp that played Heatwave twice: In '97, the second time we played there, we had to haul ass to Heatwave after doing Shakespeare in the Park [where Joe Popp was the house band for MacBeth]. We still had our makeup half on. We tried to wipe it off, but the greasepaint blackened our eyes and was running down our faces. The cast came, and was singing along to a song we had adapted for the play. Then [Eric Snider] started throwing marshmallows, and I remember [bassist] Martin [Rice] saying, "I wish he would stop throwing those marshmallows. My feet are sticking to the floor." That was one of the most fun days of my life.
Martin Rice, bassist, former Joe Popp bassist, currently of The Weapons of Ass Destruction: Snider took to throwing anything he could find at us. I remember drinks, chairs and (where they came from, I don't know) marshmallows. His reasoning was that he wanted the "punk" experience. The irony is that prior to the marshmallows, I was slipping all around the painted concrete stage in my Docs. But, after being repeatedly pelted by Snider, the marshmallows created a nice sticky shoe-grip which enabled me to finish the set without falling on my ass. I later got him back by setting his face on fire.
Lazy, DJ for local hip-hop group Red Tide (which played Heatwave twice) and former volunteer DJ at WMNF: I first went to Heatwave when I was a high school kid. I was introduced to all these different kinds of music, and I thought it was the greatest thing. When I was a DJ on MNF and Red Tide got the chance to play, I was super-stoked.
On the flipside, I do wish they would try and grab some more forward-thinking bands. I don't mean just hip-hop. I can't name two bands from the indie/alternative ranks — up-and-coming bands that the station could've grabbed early, like the Killers — that have played there.
Snider: When they booked the noise-rock band Sebadoh in '93, I think they played El Pasaje Plaza, people were practically running away from the stage. I remember, 'cause I was one of those who was running. The crowd didn't get it at all. I think that made an impression on MNF when it came to booking edgy rock acts.
Eddie Rosicky, local musician who has played Heatwave several times with different bands: One time, when I played with the Bohemian Swingers — you wanted to have your funky gear on — I had this vest that my mom had made for my dad like 30 or 40 years ago. It had beer tops, the old pull-off ones, sewed all over it. I had taken a hit of blotter acid or mushrooms before, and we had a good set. After we finished, every other person was stopping me, some just because of the vest. I was so fuckin' high that I ran out to my car and took off the vest, thinking, "Maybe this'll cut some of the flow down."
Brian Repetto, founder of the local rock band Dumbwaiters: Yeah, that Heatwave show [when the band attempted to play in the basement in 2002]. The un-show, not a song played, onstage attacks, equipment and guitarists collapsing onto me … well, I kinda like the mysteriousness of it. People still come up to me and mention how it was a glorious moment in Heatwave history, a marvelous disaster, a performance-art spectacle, etc., etc. Well, let's just keep it at that.
IN THE CROWD
Laurie Berlin, longtime WMNF volunteer, on kindling the relationship with her husband, fellow volunteer Bill Hamilton, at Heatwave: I met Bill at a Heatwave meeting, a pre-event meeting. Though I had never met or seen him before, I immediately recognized that '60s Show voice. He has a very sexy voice. We chatted a little bit that night and met again at Heatwave. I had volunteered to announce the Subdudes and was very nervous about being on stage in front of the crowd, and Bill gave me a lot of encouragement.
The most memorable moment of the night was when we were walking through the crowd Bill was a step or two ahead of me and he stretched his arm back for me to take his hand. I took his hand and remember a very warm feeling came over me. Later in the evening we started kissing on the Cuban Club stage. As they say, one thing led to another, and though there were bumps in the road we stayed together and married three years later.
Dilley: Just being in the crowd has the effect of making inhibitions melt away. One year I was dancing with a couple of women I didn't know. One of them was yelling something to me, but I couldn't hear. Finally, she yells it at the top of her lungs: "I think I love you." It sort of shocked me and I over-reacted. I put my hands up and said, "Whoa, whoa!" I think I had a girlfriend at the time. It sounded like she really meant it. I'm thinking, "We're dancing at Heatwave. I'm not ready for a life commitment." I could tell right away that I hurt her feelings. I should have been more gracious.
Wade Tatangelo, music critic/columnist for the Bradenton Herald, former Planet critic: I have this buddy from high school, Chance Langford; he's a total Republican and loves mainstream country music. I took him to Heatwave, and now he's totally into it. He called me yesterday, "We going to Heatwave?" He said, "I wanna be one of those guys who hasn't missed in 30 years." It's the perfect testimony of how Heatwave can cross boundaries. Once you go, you're hooked.
Dubrule: I think it was '85, and Rat Cafeteria played. I remember seeing their guitarist, Dorsey. He was really messed up, playing his guitar furiously, and he just passed out in the middle of the song, just crumpled to the floor. Someone kicked him with a Doc Marten, and he jumped right up and started playing like nothing had happened.
Gloria Holloway, concert promoter, Tampa Acoustic, Folk, Etc., Enthusiasts (TAFEE): My favorite memory was when Candye Kane played the keyboard with her gigantic boobs. She started slowly nudging the keyboard player with the beehive hairdo away from the keyboard. I thought, "What is she doing?" Then when the keyboard player had moved completely away and Candye Kane was standing over it, she bent down and proceeded to play it with her boobs. The crowd went wild.
Dubrule: One time, we had TPOK Jazz, a big African band, perform. They had two dancers on stage. There was a prominent middleweight boxer who lived in Tampa at the time, John "The Beast" Mugabi [who was from Africa]. He was drunk out of his mind. He kicked me in the face with his boot trying to get up on stage. He didn't have any dance moves to save his life. A far better boxer than dancer.
Anthony "Ham Gravy" Carbone, Planet sales rep: The old Planet office had a balcony that overlooked El Pasaje Plaza, so every year we'd set up a kegger up there, and then disperse around the various stages. One night, a guy was sitting quietly drinking out of the keg. No one paid him much mind, but he did look a little squirrelly. We didn't know who he was, but no one hassled him and we let him stay. From inside the office, we heard one of the women who worked in sales let out a yell, so a few of us ran in there.
Apparently this guy had been pissing in the closet where we kept our back issues. A couple of us guys took umbrage with this, and decided to run him out of the place with extreme prejudice. Even after that, though, the guy was bummed out that we were tossing him, running lingo like "What's the problem, man? It's a party. Why you being so heavy?" He got by without an ass-kicking. He should feel fortunate to this day.
Beverly Capshaw, local music supporter, WMNF volunteer: In 2000, I announced a band and one of the perks is an All Access Pass. A few hours and a few beers later, I found myself sitting on top of the wall behind the Cuban Club band shell with Alejandro Escovedo and his band, watching the Waco Brothers perform on the El Pasaje stage. It just doesn't get any better than that. Music heaven, with a great view. Until security told me to get down.
Rather than politely climb down the way I climbed up, I jumped off the other side, and the landing wasn't as graceful as I'd hoped — there are some things you really shouldn't do wearing a very short dress, like jumping off a seven-foot wall.
Harrell: My favorite memory was the first year Scott Imrich organized the local band stage at New World, I think it was '03. It was an instant success. The vibe really reminded me of the old shows when local bands used to sell venues out and book their own holiday mini-fests. MNF has always supported local music, but that was a really concrete manifestation of it, and making that club open to scenesters who couldn't pay for the ticket for the whole festival was genius.
THE BEST HEATWAVE OF ALL
Snider: Easily my favorite Heatwave was 1987, when the space-jazz legend Sun Ra and the eclectic cult band NRBQ headlined. Sun Ra's band was more than 20 strong, and they played a kind of warped, swinging free jazz. He wore glittery robes and a freaky headdress. Near the end of the long set, the band started a chant, a simple run of descending notes, which the crowd picked up on and kept singing over and over. Sun Ra and his band left the stage at the end and formed a kind of conga line through the crowd, still playing and chanting.
Wilborn: My best memory is not really about playing the Heatwave; it was interviewing Sun Ra backstage. I was there on the pretense of writing a column. I think I was with the Tribune. We were just sitting on a bench behind the stage, talking about Ellington and music in general. With his stage get-up, he looked like this guy from outer space, but he was very easy to talk to.
Mann: Near the end of the Sun Ra show — I was managing that stage — a Tampa cop came up and said it was curfew. He told me to shut it down or he'd issue a citation. I asked him how much [the citation] was and he said a hundred bucks. I reached for some money. He didn't take it. I told him, "You're going to piss all those people off." He said, "Get it over as quickly as you can." Sun Ra and his band walked into the crowd and played for another 20 minutes.
This article appears in May 17-23, 2006.