then 40, then 20, and one day, they’ll wake up and barbershop won’t exist. I understand that, but I think it’s overly paranoid.”
Last July, one of the groups competing against OC Times was Old School, a quartet of well-known barbershoppers formed expressly to raise the flag of kibber opposition. During its final-round performance, Old School sang a self-penned protest song that took shots at OC Times and the rest of the barberpop movement with lines about “Elvis Presley rock’n’roll” and “country songs with three chords.” OC Times went on to win the contest—with Old School placing a distant fifth—and ever since, they’ve been trying to mend fences with their kibber detractors.
“We love old-time barbershop,” says Shawn York. “That’s what the kibbers don’t understand. We’re not trying to get rid of ‘Coney Island Baby.’ All we’re trying to do is widen the spectrum of acceptable barbershop. Push the envelope a little. There’s room for modern music in barbershop, as long as it’s done tastefully.”
“Here’s what I don’t understand,” says Cory Hunt. “The kibbers are mad because we’re singing Beach Boys songs from the ’60s. That’s modern music?”
68 FEBRUAR Y 2009 / BE HEARD. GO TO SPIN.COM
BACK AT THE JAMBOREE, A GIRL NAMED SARAH is getting serenaded. Her 16th birthday is this week, and in the middle of their 40-minute set, on a tip from a friend, OC Times pulled the timid brunette onstage with them. Now she’s in a chair surrounded by crooning heartthrobs, giggling wildly with her hand over her mouth, looking equal parts embarrassed and ecstatic.
OC Times are having fun, too. Since Devine moved to Nashville, the guys only get to sing together on gig weekends like this. It took them half an hour of vocal warm-ups to “get in the sound,” as they call it, but their set doesn’t seem to have lost its luster. They sing a little doo-wop
KNIGHTS OF THE
MERCH TABLE “Yes, yes, it is a cute cat. Are you gonna buy a shirt, or what?”
(“So Much in Love”), a little straight barbershop (“Don’t Be a Baby, Baby”), a little Elvis (“Teddy Bear,” arranged as Hunt’s bass solo), and the audience responds with three standing ovations. The vocals are smooth, the harmonies clean and brassy, and the net effect is that of an audio time warp—close your eyes and you’re back in 1942.
In the hotel after the gig, I ask the guys if they would ever consider going pro. BHS rules say champion quartets are ineligible for future competitions, so their contest days are over. They seem to have some mainstream appeal, or so their fans think. In the lobby, one 15-year-old named Andrea said that OC Times are “so much cuter than any boy band.” They could tour and pursue a crossover career, I suggest. Maybe even do for barbershop what Il Divo did for opera.
“Look,” says Devine. “Every weekend, we have the chance to be the best in the world at something. We share this music we love so much with other people, we have a blast singing with each other, and then on Monday, we go back to work again. It’s a wonderful privilege.”
“Would we like to go pro?” says York. “Of course. But realistically, we know barbershop is always going to be a niche thing.”
“And that’s fine with us,” adds Hunt. “Honestly, we could never ask for more.”
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