It was fun, though far from lucrative. Then, one sad and hopeless morning (or evening), Brown and Keating decided to combine their considerable lack of talent to fill a void in their lives which even prodigious amounts of Budweiser and endless Uncle Tupelo rip-offs couldn't satiate.

Though we can't say when it actually began, we do know where it began: Baltimore, Maryland, on Calvert Street, in a first-floor apartment.

Working off of an odd sea chanty called "The Giant Squid," penned by Keating, the two composers--fueled by desperation, sleep deprivation, and fresh supplies of beer--began to conceive of the story of a Giant Clam. This stalwart of the home aquarium, with its bubble-activated flapping shell, massive pearl, and lurking deep-sea diver, posed a litany of questions (both palpable and eschatological) to the two men which could only be answered through song. Rock song.

Thus was The Giant Clam: A Rock Opera born. Both Brown and Keating went their separate ways to each compose half of the piece; Brown drew on influences ranging from The Who to The Band to Guided by Voices, while Keating actually wrote his songs.

The parts came together in a now-lost series of cassette tapes sometime during the brutally hot summer of 1999, and both realized the vitality and promise of the work. Practices were even convened. But Keating was soon off to Massachusetts, chasing his dream of becoming a certified veterinary clinical pathologist. Brown, having no such delusions of grandeur, remained in Baltimore, playing in another rock/twang band named The Billroys with Marsh, Tiffany, and newly recruited mega-shredding guitar slinger Neil Eber, who fronts his own kick-ass band Chester Stacey.

In early 2002, Brown suddenly remembered he had co-written a rock opera. This revelation, combined with his disillusion with the Baltimore rock scene and his band's role in not helping it suck less, as well as Marsh's eager support for the idea (on the condition that he be allowed to play the titular mollusk), led him to approach the rest of the band and float the idea of performing The Giant Clam. All agreed enthusiastically. Brown contacted Keating, who sent more cassette tapes of his songs from the opera to refresh Brown's memory. Though Keating could not leave his studies at university, he gave his blessing to the project's launch.

Without Keating, Brown knew that his own feeble skills on the guitar--even when combined with the wicked chops of Eber--would not be enough. Brown knew a third (or second, depending on how you count) guitar player would be critical to filling out the sound, so he asked Chris Iseli of both Chester Stacey and Thee Twin Six (one of Baltimore's most feared and nude loud rock combos) if he would lend his skillz to the project. Iseli signed on, and the die was cast.

Friends and spouses joined in: Susan Lantz, Eber's wife, created the mackin' website. Curt Iseli, Chris's brother, designed the fantastic "Fillmore West"-era poster (at right). Laura Yacobucci provided inflatable fish and props; and the legendary Foxy LaRue agreed to serve as Vegas showgirl for the performance. It being a very slow news week, The Baltimore Sun put The Giant Clam on the cover of the "Today" section, and Sport Diver magazine gave us a little holla. Even the National Aquarium in Baltimore represented, telling us to "break a lung." Which was solid.

After eight months of practice, The Giant Clam: A Rock Opera was performed on December 27, 2002, at The Ottobar in Baltimore, MD. A crowd of nearly 150 showed up. Some left during the intermission. Some did not. All were entertained. The performance was captured on digital video by Gavin Elder, and Andrew Grimm of the band June Star used more digital technology to record the sound. Predictably, the band disintegrated the next morning, the victim of lingering animosities toward Brown, who in everyone's opinion had become a bossy-pants peckerwood.

But time heals most wounds, as did Brown's concerted efforts to buy a lot of "Beers of Penitence" for the band. In 2003, with the help of a legendary Baltimore character known as The Colonel (see: Night of 100 Elvises), a DVD of the sole performance of The Giant Clam--combined with artsy footage of fish and water--began production. Check out The Clam's Log for details on the status of this exciting project.

Thanks for your interest in The Giant Clam: A Rock Opera.

Ahoy!
-The Giant Clam Players