Last night, I saw Save Ferris. I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t remember them. According to Wikipedia:

Save Ferris is a ska punk band formed circa 1995 in Orange County, California. Their name is a reference to the 1986 film Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

On Save Ferris’s claim to fame:

The band released their debut full-length album, It Means Everything, for Epic in 1997. The album featured several re-recorded tracks from the EP, some new songs, and a cover of Dexys Midnight Runners’ “Come on Eileen”, which became the band’s most successful single to date. It Means Everything also featured the single “The World is New,” which was featured in the film The Big Hit starring Mark Wahlberg, and was later featured in the trailers for Senseless and Thomas and the Magic Railroad, as well as an episode of the TV series 7th Heaven.

That’s it. That was the pinnacle of Save Ferris’s fame – a hit single that was a cover of an 80’s hit single and song placement in drecky productions like 7th Heaven and the Thomas the Tank Engine movie. While this is certainly more than most bands accomplish, it doesn’t place them in the upper echelons of rock stardom. Therefore, it’s probably more accurate to describe Save Ferris as a “never was” than as “has beens”.

I do remember Save Ferris, though. I remember seeing their video for “Come on Eileen” on MTV, and I remember them as part of the detestable wave of pop ska bands in 90’s, which included No Doubt, Sublime and The Mighty Mighty Bosstones. Part of the fun last night was explaining to my mid-twenties companion what 90’s ska was and why it was so bad.

Needless to say, I had my expectations set low. But here’s the thing: Save Ferris was awesome. After a 15-year hiatus, the band was tight and energetic. The singer, Monique Powell, had an incredible voice with range and power. They pumped up the crowd. Their hardcore fans were crowded around the stage and jumping up and down ecstatically. A mosh pit even formed at one point, which made no sense at all.

(There were also bizarre distractions, like when a drunken older fan wearing a rainbow plaid sport coat stood up from his table just before the show and face-planted on the pavement. He knocked himself out and broke his nose, causing the police and paramedics to arrive. He was ok, I think.)

The unexpected awesomeness of Save Ferris made me wonder about the nature of fame. For a brief moment, it seemed that Save Ferris was the next No Doubt and Monique Powell was the heir apparent to Gwen Stefani. But today, everyone knows Gwen Stefani and only a few remember Monique Powell. Why is this?

It’s not for lack of musical talent. After last night, if I was sentenced to watch live 90’s ska for the rest of eternity, I would chose Save Ferris over No Doubt in a heartbeat. (Even though No Doubt evolved well beyond ska into quite an impressive pop band). The story of Save Ferris seems more linked to intangibles. Powell, while certainly charismatic, lacks the glamor and star power of Gwen Stefani. She’s the better musician but the worse celebrity.

The history of music and everything else is littered with examples of more deserving artists eclipsed by those who are simply more marketable. It’s cliche to observe that fame bears little relation to talent. But there was a more profound lesson for me in this – the nobility of the Save Ferris’s of the world.

Only an infinitesimal fraction of us will ever achieve fame and glory, for whatever it’s worth. For the rest of us, the best we can hope is to do our thing for a small group of passionate fans who still care even after the rest of the world has forgotten about us (if they ever knew in the first place). If that’s good enough for Save Ferris, it’s good enough for me.