Music
It's March 11: Happy 311 day!
by Mark Teo
March 11, 2015
Are you "Down" with 311? If so, spark a fattie boom-battie spliff and let's get jokerous. PUFF PUFF PASS.
It’s hard to believe it in 2015, but there was a time—say, 15 years ago—when it was completely acceptable for white Californians to get dreadlocks, nip piercings, and play the slap bass to reggae. Even better: It wasn’t even longboard-riding Bishop’s College students who took up the ragga-rock cause—it was brooding suburban nu-metallers, who, after hearing Jonathan Davis scat for the first time, were like, “Shit, why not? If Korn can do jazz, then why can’t I jam some Black Uhuru?”
But before Smash Mouth and Sugar Ray—who wrote some bangers, admit it—began writing soft reggae-tinged Canada’s Wonderland smashes, 311 was there, blending Flea’s penchant for funky caucasian bass guitar with rhythmic metal. (This is an era that hardcore kids would like to forget, but let’s be completely honest here: How far is 311 from Quicksand, Helmet, Snapcase and especially—especially—Orange 9 MM? 311 is nothing if Orange 9 MM decked out in a rastacap.)
To make things even more confusing, when 311 became old news for nu metallers—once they discovered Raggadeath, a ragga-metal act featuring Canadian rap icon Michie Mee, they never turned back—311 would eventually move onto the skateboarding crowd: By the late ’90s, their quasi-rapped, quasi-sung cargo-pant rock became the official soundtrack of Banff and Whistler, with snowboard jocks blasting “Come Original” while waxing up their orange Rossignols.
And while the band continued on, their ’90s and early 2000s material remains, uh, classic: 311 and Soundsystem still bristled with an original blend of sing-moaning, compressed drum sounds, half-assed scratching, and Metal Zone guitar pedals, all filtered through funhouse mirrors. They will forever be remembered for their influence on bands like Hot Action Cop and, uh, Turnstile. And while we’re glad they’re no longer dominating airwaves, we’re still glad that a group of white Michael Franti lookalikes existed in the heavy music-sphere. Stay shirtless, 311.
And here’s an album of 311 covers for your, uh, enjoyment.