Back in 1995, I was perusing the CD aisles at Turtles Music in Jonesboro, GA, and I’m pretty sure I was looking for a copy of Black Sabbath‘s Master of Reality. Alas, they didn’t have it, so I kept browsing in my ganja-induced haze, looking for the next “find.” I looked down, and just past the Black Sabbath card was a CD by a band called The Bloodhound Gang, titled Use Your Fingers. First off, the cover was just these two jackasses who looked like friends of mine from high school. You know the kind. The kind of kids who would do shit like have rap battles, but only in front of our other three friends, or do cool photo shoots where it was really just one of our friends taking pictures of us behind a Kroger or something.
I wasn’t sure what the fuck they were, but I was pretty sure they were some comedy hip hop group or something. I flipped the CD over and read the song titles. “Rip Taylor is God,” “Legend In My Spare Time,” She Ain’t Got No Legs,” and “Mama Say” screamed “comedy.” The band members were Jimmy Pop Ali, Daddy Long Legs, Skip-O-Potoums, Lupus, and MSG. Well, that sealed the deal, so I bought it. It was well worth the gamble because it became one of my top albums that year, and I was hooked.
Bloodhound Gang came to Atlanta, where I was living at the time, on a Tuesday night or something. It was the tail end of the Use Your Fingers tour, I believe, so the lineup had changed a bit. Daddy Long Legs had left the band to start some shitty band called Wolfpac, and he was replaced by Evil Jared Hasselhoff (best stage name ever), and their DJ, MSG, also left to be in the same band, so he was replaced with, I’m not kidding here, DJ. Tardy Tard.
I was with a buddy of mine, and we were literally two of maybe 15 people in the room. Jimmy Pop kicked off the show by saying, “Damn, Atlanta. I’ve seen more people in a Volvo.” It was an amazingly fun show, with some horrible white-boy dancing, hilarious songs, and energy for days. It was a fun show, and because they noticed us in the audience singing along to all the songs, they invited us backstage. They gave us two beers, sat us down, and talked to us like old friends. They even performed an a cappella version of “Liza and Louise” by NOFX.
I managed to stay in touch with the guys (mainly Jim) for years after that. Jim would call me maybe once a month, and we’d talk about the band, upcoming tours, and the ridiculous shit that was going down on the road. He’d give me pointers on the business, and he’d send me crazy shit in the mail. For Christmas one year, he sent me a giant Boba Fett stand-up because we always used to say “Boba Fett, y’all.” Not sure what that meant, but it was awesome. Another time, he sent me a postcard with Charlie Watts from the Rolling Stones on it, and he had drawn air poofs coming from his ass like he was farting. It was a cool thing. It was my first friendship with a musician who wasn’t from Atlanta, and I hoped it would grow over the years.
Jim called me once and said, “Hey, Fat Don, we’re putting out a new album. We were going to sign with Madonna’s label, Maverick, and they were aggressively trying to sign us. We decided instead to sign with a new label called Republic Records. I’m sending you a videotape of the preview of our video for a new song called “Kiss Me Where It Smells Funny.” I watched this on my VCR in my bedroom at my parents’ house. Jim was running down the street with what I think was a full-size bass fish that he stole from a fish stand. When it was over, I said, “These fucking idiots are gonna be huge.”
One Fierce Beer Coaster was released in 1996 on Republic Records, and it came with an actual cardboard beer coaster with what they would go on to call the Sprinkle Genie, which was a gross-looking, mutant-looking troll jerking off a dick that looked like a leech. It was exactly what I was expecting from them, but so much more. There were songs called “Kiss Me Where It Smells Funny,” “Boom,” which featured none other than Vanilla Ice, and a song called “Yellow Fever,” which was very openly and inappropriately about “having fun” with Asian women. The icing on the cake was when I opened the insert booklet and saw my name listed in the “thank you” credits. I thanked Jim for doing that, and he said, “You’ve been a huge support and a great friend.”
Jim called me shortly after the album’s release, and we talked about it. He was telling me about how Vanilla Ice (Rob Van Winkle) collaborated with him on the song “Boom”, and when he sent his track to Jim, one of the words towards the end was peaking and distorted badly, so he had to take a copy of another word from the song and replace it with that. I was so blown away that someone could do this at home. He told me all about his home recording studio, and back in 1994, it wasn’t even something I could dream of. I loved hearing all about it.
Not long after the album’s release, maybe a few months later, Geffen Records was knocking down their door to sign them, so after a lot of negotiations and the removal of the song “Yellow Fever,” One Fierce Beer Coaster was released. “Kiss Me Where It Smells Funny” wasn’t the first single. The first single/video released was for the song “Fire Water Burn,” which featured the infectious chorus “The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire. We don’t need no water let the motherfucker burn,” which was borrowed from the Rock Master Scott & the Dynamic Three song, “The Roof Is on Fire.” It was a huge hit almost instantly, and next thing I knew, they were all over MTV, and they were hitting the road as headliners in small clubs with an awesome pop/punk called Nerf Herder opening.
Jim kept in touch with me and let me know that the
y were going to be in Atlanta playing at a tiny club called The Point. The show sold out, and I couldn’t have been prouder. The day before the Atlanta show, the band’s manager, Brett Alparowitz, called me and asked if I could give Jim a ride to a dentist when they got to Atlanta, because at the show the night before, someone jumped on stage and knocked the microphone into his mouth, resulting in a cracked tooth. The girl I was dating at the time, and I met the band at The Point, and took Jim to the dentist about 40 minutes away. They got him in there, fixed his tooth, and he offered to put the really cute dental hygienist on the guest list. She looked like she couldn’t give a rat’s ass but it was hilarious. We drove back to the venue and while stressing and sitting in traffic, we were cracking each other up, and Jim was telling us insane stories about the tour up to that point.
We got Jim back to the venue just in time for soundcheck, then hung out and watched. The show that night was going to be a somewhat life-changing event for me because Jim had asked me if I’d go on tour with them as their merch guy, selling t-shirts and swag at all the shows.
The idea of it was exciting. Touring the country with them and even going to Europe, but in the end, I turned it down. At the time, I didn’t have the confidence to think that I could do something like that and survive because my father had beaten it into me for so long that a person needed a real job, benefits, etc. If it weren’t for the fear instilled in me by the old man, I would’ve been out there living the life of a traveling salesman for the Bloodhound Gang and probably would’ve wound up in jail somewhere. Things happen and don’t happen for a reason.
That night at the show, Jim and Brett were very cool and understanding about it, but didn’t hesitate to put me to work, so for one night only, I was the merch guy for the Bloodhound Gang. I sold shirts, I sold CDs, and I even saw a few pairs of really nice breasts ready to be signed by the band.
At the end of the show, I was helping take inventory of the merch, and some guy came up to the booth, grabbed a shirt, and ran out the door with it. The guy made it maybe 20 steps out the door before being caught by bassist Evil Jared Hasselhoff and two other guys, who proceeded to beat the dude to a pulp and return the shirt. It was surreal, and it was also a taste of what I’d probably experience on the road, and I immediately knew I had made the right decision not to take the gig. I don’t handle confrontation with people and situations like that very well, so it all worked out for the best.
After that show, the band went on to tour the US extensively and, for the first time, toured Europe on the festival circuit. They were building a huge following over in Europe, and the US just kept wanting more of the Bloodhound Gang. The last leg of the One Fierce Beer Coaster tour took place in the summer of ’97 as part of the ROAR (Revolutions of Alternative Rhythms) tour. The tour was an amphitheater tour featuring Iggy Pop as the headliner, along with Sponge, Bloodhound Gang, Sevendust, The Nixons, Tonic, and Reverend Horton Heat.
When the tour came to Atlanta, as always, I was hooked up with backstage passes and tickets and even got to watch the show from the side of the stage. The place was not even 1/3 full, but they played like it was sold out. The crowd size didn’t improve much as they started moving people from the lawn into the seats to fill the empty ones. They were fantastic on this show, which featured a cover of “The Sweater Song” by Weezer and “Firestarter” by Prodigy, which Evil Jared led as he jumped off the stage and ran through the audience and up to the lawn and back. It was a fun show, and afterward, Jim, Jared, Matt (Lupus), and I talked a bit and said our goodbyes.
Communication with Jim grew less as the band’s popularity grew, and in 1999, I moved to North Carolina with my now-wife. At some point, we finally connected via email, and Jim told me they were ready to release the follow-up to One Fierce Beer Coaster, titled Hooray for Boobies. The band was growing by the day, and contact became increasingly infrequent. Then, what seemed like out of nowhere, the Bloodhound Gang was back on MTV, this time dressed up like chimpanzees and doing a whole choreographed dance while singing, “You and me baby ain’t nothing but mammals, so let’s do it how they do on the Discovery Channel.” “The Bad Touch” took the Bloodhound Gang to a whole new level and once again had them playing bigger venues to sold-out crowds.
Jim emailed me at some point to let me know they’d be playing in Atlanta at the Roxy, a 1000+-seat venue, and that he’d have passes and tickets waiting for me. I made the trek back to Atlanta to see the show, and I was so proud of them. Seeing so many people there, ready to go nuts, was so amazing. This was a long way coming from that Masquerade show in ’95. The show was amazing. The band Isabella’s Gift once again opened, as well as Nerf Herder. Both bands put on great shows, and at the end of Nerf Herder’s set, all the bands were on stage covering Poison’s “Talk Dirty to Me.”
When the house lights went down for the Bloodhound Gang’s set, the place erupted. A giant backdrop unfurled, which had the Metallica logo on it, x’d out in red, and under it in huge letters, the Bloodhound Gang. They kicked off their set with “Magna Cum Nada,” and it was amazing. They were so tight, like a fucking machine. These guys had toured the world, and their hard work and determination showed on stage. The Bloodhound Gang were fucking rock stars, and they knew it. They put on a show that night that is still one of the best shows I’ve seen a band put on.
Months later, they made their way to Charlotte at the Tremont Music Hall, once again playing to a sold-out crowd. As usual, I got to the venue, and Jim and the guys had taken care of me with a ticket and a backstage pass. I made my way backstage only to find them smashing light bulbs over each other’s heads. “Fat Don. C’mon and get in on this.” I opted to hang back, look on, and talk to their new drummer, Willie the New Guy who was a really nice dude.
I made my way back out to the crowd and then watched them put on yet another incredible show. After the show, I chatted with Jim for about half an hour, but I could see the exhaustion on his face. The band was pushing it so hard yet riding high. In Europe, they were playing large festivals and better slots closer to the headliners. They were sharing stages with so many big acts. That night, we hugged, and he got on the tour bus, and I headed back home. We talked on the phone a few days later. I thanked him again for taking care of me, and we had a nice chat. We hung up, and that was the last time I spoke with my buddy Jim. As of this writing, it’s been 25 years since we talked.
The Bloodhound Gang’s popularity in the States began to wane, and the band relocated to Europe (I think Germany?). They continued to have some success there, but in the US they lost steam and eventually faded into obscurity, leaving an enduring mark on pop culture.
As social media rose in popularity, I would occasionally look for information about the Bloodhound Gang. I found a few of the guys online and messaged them to say hi, but I never heard anything back. I emailed Jim and never got a reply. I did manage to track down Evil Jared and messaged him back and forth on WhatsApp for a bit. He lives in Germany and does something with wrestling there. He even has a grown daughter, which blew my mind. I asked him to pass my best along to Jim and said I’d love to hear from him. That was about 4 years ago, and I never heard anything back.
The point of this story is to recount my memories of my friendship with Jim Franks, from the beginning of his career to his rock stardom. There was never a fight, never an argument, or anything like that. It just came to an end. It’s always in my nature to assume that it was something that I did (thanks to neurodivergence). I’ve questioned that quite a bit, but at the end of it all, I see that it was just something that came to an end.
Did he get “too big” to be a friend anymore? Did he have some struggles that caused him to retreat from it, not just me, but maybe others as well? I’ll never truly know, but as someone who struggles with mental health, I know that life can be a lot, and sometimes people can be a lot as well. When I look back on those years, I don’t ever think to myself about how cool it was to be friends with rock stars or anything like that. My memories are of a friend I met through the music he was making. He was making music on his own terms and having the time of his life. Again, it was inspiring. It is a rare occurrence, but I just loved hearing his stories, talking about my music, and getting advice from him on various levels about making my way into the music business.
Twenty-five years later, I still run into people who are fans of the Bloodhound Gang. I even co-host a weekly podcast with a couple of friends, one of whom is a huge fan and quotes their songs on the regular. I shared the stories of my adventures and friendship with Jim and the guys, and I still think about them regularly. They’re great memories and stories that will last me a lifetime. I miss my buddy, and maybe someday we will reconnect and catch up. Perhaps it’ll never happen, but either way, I hope he knows what a strong influence he was on me to move forward with music, embrace technology, and never grow up.
A legend in my spare time. I was and will always be.
About The Author
