Juggling family life near Kingston with gigs nationwide

Tattoos and mohawks are often mentioned in the same breath as “punk band.’’ But how about backyard barbecues with the in-laws, freshly mowed lawns, and slumber parties for eight-year-olds who can pull all-nighters with the ease of rock stars?

Welcome to the surprisingly sane world of University of Rhode Island graduates Scott Begin ’02 and Joel Hanks ’02, two-thirds ofBadfish, a punk, reggae, ska and hip-hop tribute band that has become one of the biggest club acts in the Northeast and Midwest.

The Rhode Island-based band plays about 120 shows a year—just the right amount to earn enough to pay the rent, uh, mortgage, and make it home for kids’ birthday parties. Begin, 36, and Hanks, 34, hope to croon into their twilight years.“People think of a touring band as a bunch of bachelors—party, party,’’ says Begin. “We did that. But life happens. We’re so happy to play and still have wonderful family lives. We’re able to make it work.’’

And, they say, their better halves are really cool about everything. “Great wives,’’ says Begin. “Great,’’ says Hanks.

Their journey began decades ago—in South Kingstown for Hanks, Woonsocket for Begin. Hanks was a math and chess whiz at South Kingstown High School, with high enough SAT scores to win a four-year academic scholarship to URI. Begin went to a parochial grade school and graduated from Woonsocket High School.

As teenagers, Begin spent hours in his parents’ basement banging out Mötley Crüe on his drums, while Hanks mastered the bass. Both had a blast playing in local bands.

In 2000, their third year at URI, the computer science majors met in “Software Engineering, 305.’’ Begin recalls: “We realized we both liked music, so it was like, ‘Hey, we should get together and jam.’ ’’ They recruited a vocalist and were soon practicing in Begin’s basement, although still undecided about what to play at gigs.

They finally settled on someone else’s music: Sublime, the Long Beach-bred punk-ska band that was on the verge of becoming a national phenom when frontman Brad Nowell died of a heroin overdose in 1996. Why Sublime? Good party and dance music, and, with so many different styles, never boring. Plus, just about every college fest in the ’90s blasted Sublime hits like “What I Got,’’ Doin’ Time,’’ and “Badfish,’’ the band’s namesake.

“They had loyal fans, and a lot of people never got to see them live,’’ says Begin. “We wanted to bring a show that highlighted their great music in the best possible way.’’

April 13, 2001: About 250 people crowded into the Ocean Mist in Matunuck for the band’s first show. The response was so good they played there for a year. After graduating from URI in 2002, Begin found work as a computer programmer at CVS, and Hanks became the band’s manager. Word spread fast and soon the band was playing as “weekend warriors’’ in sold-out clubs throughout the Northeast—enough shows so Begin could quit his day job. “I figured if I was going to make a run for it, now was the time,’’ he says.

Off they went, touring the country in Begin’s Ford Explorer, pulling a trailer packed with their sound equipment. The first few years were rough. St. Louis one weekend, Chicago the next, then off to New Orleans. They played in sparsely attended dives, as well as packed clubs. Breaks came when they filled famous spots like House of Blues in Cleveland.

By 2006, Badfish was playing 152 shows a year, selling 100,000 tickets and grossing $1.4 million. Badfish merchandise was ubiquitous: T-shirts emblazoned with a scaly aquatic creature, flat hats, key chains, onesies for the fans with kids. Spin and Rolling Stone wrote stories about the band. “We were hot, and that made it snowball faster,’’ says Hanks.

On a West coast tour, the band—which includes vocalist Pat Downesof North Kingstown—even got to meet an original member of Sublime, drummer Bud Gaugh, who played with Badfish in San Diego. “It was the coolest thing,’’ says Begin. “Mind blowing,’’ says Hanks.

Five years ago, ticket sales took a slight hit. It was a recession, they say, plus electronic dance music became omnipresent on college campuses. “It was the new hot thing,’’ Hanks says. Oh, and Hanks’ wife had a baby. Six-week tours suddenly seemed like an eternity. “Things moved quick in that area—family life,’’ says Hanks.

In their T-shirts and baggy shorts, the duo look more like suburban dads with buzz cuts roaming the aisles of Home Depot looking for deck screws than naughty punk rockers. They bristle at the thought of getting tattoos. Piercing is out of the question.

Hanks is married to a Georgia woman and has two stepdaughters, 13 and 14, and a 6-year-old son. Begin tied the knot with a Rhode Islander and has a baby boy and an 8-year-old stepdaughter who is fond of slumber parties. Hanks lives in a colonial in a North Kingstown cul-de-sac; Begin’s family homestead is off Route 138 in South Kingstown, not far from URI. “Swing set in the backyard, barbecue—the whole nine yards,’’ says Begin.

The guys wouldn’t have it any other way. Beats sitting in a cubicle.

“We’ve always felt pretty lucky to be able to make a living playing music,’’ says Hanks.

“For sure,’’ says Begin.

They don’t expect their adventure to end any time soon, but if the lights dim they will always have what they got in Kingston: a college degree.

—Elizabeth Rau