CREDITS
Produced By:
Live From Memphis

Performed By:
Secret Service

Camera Operators:
Sarah Fleming
Christopher Reyes
Eric Swartz

Editor:
Christopher Reyes

Recorded Live At:
Buccaneer

Story By :
Andria Lisle

Photos By :
Dan Ball

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Secret Service
Teenage Mustache

The Service is Spectacular

Deep inside the recesses of Memphis’ only pirate-themed bar, the Buccaneer Lounge, Secret Service frontman Justice Naczycz paced impatiently. Time was tight – guitarist Steve Selvidge was already testing his plywood board holding eleven pedals in a proto-funk warm up. Drummer John Argroves and bassist Mark Stuart – completing what Naczycz has dubbed “the greatest band in the world to sing karaoke with” – had put down their beers and joined in.

Standing behind the crew booth, between the brig and the men’s room, Naczycz stripped off his street clothes in full view of the audience, eventually emerging onstage dressed in a white shirt, white running shoes, and white stretch pants with red and black flared panels. He swatted the ship’s lantern that hung overhead, signaling that the Secret Service was finally ready to rock.

There was, however, no real stage – shows at the Bucc aneer resemble thrown-together house parties, bands performing on a cleared-out area of the floor between the bar and the fireplace. Some nights, it’s a tight fit, but nonplussed, the Secret Service launched into “Always Said She Wanted to Die,” the first track off their debut CD The Service Is Spectacular.  Naczycz quickly strapped on his Korean Flying V look alike and stepped up to the mic for the chorus, which came in fits and starts, ala songs by ‘70s powerhouses like Slade and Alice Cooper.

Before the audience knew what hit them, the Secret Service pulled a one-two punch with “Cold Sparkles,” which their lead vocalist dedicated to Detroit City. “Winners and Losers” and “If You Don’t Need It” followed, as fans struggled to keep up with the band and keep drinks flowing at the same time.

Ultimately, real musicianship ruled over the racket, as Selvidge – a veteran of local groups Big Ass Truck and the Bloodthirsty Lovers – cranked out one searing guitar solo after another on his vintage Les Paul guitar.

A literal tank of a band, the Secret Service rumbled through the night, on a mission to destroy any unbelievers who crossed their path. With grenade-blasting drumbeats and propulsive bass lines, they plowed their way through “Camaro” and “Working Too Hard,” transforming the songs into sinewy, proto-punk  numbers that left Naczycz – a dead ringer for British comedy star Ali G – pogoing in front of his mic stand, guitar slung uselessly across his back, occasionally pausing to throw his arms in the air and rant about the current state of corporate rock.

Flipping up his mirrored sunglasses to declare lines like “I’ve been working too hard for you to take it away” and “I wanna rock every single day” with utter conviction, Naczycz threatened to cross over into self-parody as he jogged in place, tossing his shirt into the crowd to show off a hairy chest, white belly, and back tattoo.

Thankfully, the seasoned veteran (he’s a sideman in Memphis punk band the Final Solutions and has a rootsy solo album, Water for the Withered Root, under his belt) knew just when to pull back, put his shades back on, and rock out. The one time he missed his cue because he was too busy bantering with the crowd – “This is serious,” he blurted, oblivious to his own ludicrousness – Stuart and Argroves quickly drowned him out.

Surveying the audience, it was surprising to see not a single mullet or terrycloth headband in the bunch. Instead, this was a crowd of savvy Midtowners, piling into the crew booth and onto the dance floor, maneuvering past the fireplace to hit the poop deck or get in line at the bar.

When Selvidge began the chugging guitar riff that opens “Milkshake” – a hilarious headbanger the Secret Service hijacked from Chicago rockers Masters of the Obvious – the crowd went nuts as Naczycz erupted like Mount Vesuvius, testosterone oozing from every pore. It became a full-scale audience participation number when Stuart and Selvidge pulled a few hardcore fans up to play for them, doing windmill antics ala the Who’s Pete Townsend.

They could’ve stopped there, leaving the crowd wanting more, but Naczycz decided to indulge himself with one more song: “Tired of Running Away,” a hard-rocking tune that combines the best of Cheap Trick and the Cars with the panache of Thin Lizzy’s “Warriors.” Less than three minutes later, it was all over.

The service, of course, was spectacular.
- Andria Lisle

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