When police mobilize on an indecent exposure call in Omaha, Neb., the police code for the situation is a "311." The very nature of being cited for this so-called crime — being caught, for instance, naked in a local pool — is in many ways the definition of the freewheeling undertones in a band like 311.
Since forming in 1988 and exploding onto the national scene in 1995, 311 has often been considered a quintessential band of the 1990s, with classic tracks such as "Down" and "All Mixed Up" still receiving radio play 15 years after their debuts.
Now out on yet another tour, 311 will come to Baltimore's Pier Six Pavilion tomorrow, ready to rock and roll.
If it wasn't obvious already, 311, which originated in Omaha, took on its name after some members of the band committed the act described above. Certainly not a group to be ashamed of themselves, the band took its three-digit title and the intense energy of its live show to the national stage and never looked back.
"We don't play huge venues all the time," bassist Aaron Wills, known as P-Nut, said. "When we do, it certainly is [nice]. It's nice to know that people still care about us. They wanna hear the new music, and they wanna hear the old music, and they wanna watch us play our instruments in the particular way we do. It's crazy; it's going all according to plan, and it's exceeded all expectations a thousand times over."
P-Nut — whose name is derived from a similarly strange story about the shape of his head — has been a member of 311 since the band's inception.
In the years he's spent with the group, P-Nut has been able to build a life for himself, even among the commotion of insistent touring.
The stereotypical life of a rocker — drugs, sex, parties, long days and longer nights — would seem to be detrimental to a man trying to build a family.
However, the repetitive and draining cycle of live shows experienced by P-Nut and the rest of 311 only seem to make his personal ties stronger.
"It's only proven how important it is," P-Nut said of relationships. "You really gotta choose your partner and your circle of friends real wisely because there's temptations and pitfalls and a lot of money going around and jealousy. It's a thick soup of intellectual pratfalls. You gotta have the right person with you. I've known my wife since 1993; we've lived together since 1995, so she's seen it all."
Now the father of a 7-week-old boy, P-Nut is excited about both his life and career.
As for the music of 311, the band, which is recording a new album for release sometime next year, still considers itself to be a perfect example of hybrid rock. Since the '90s, 311 has been playing everything from reggae to hard rock, even covering bands such as The Cure with 2004's "Love Song" for the 50 First Dates soundtrack.
Even with all the diversity of its sound, it seems fair to assume that 311's image would be fading after so many years on the music scene.
The music world is constantly reinventing itself, simmering down or demolishing the popularity of many artists. If nothing else, 311's biggest battle these days is figuring out how to stay relevant.
P-Nut, on the other hand, said the band's live energy and constantly expanding catalogue keep new fans coming and old fans coming back.
"At least in the first eight or 10 or 12 rows are a perpetually college-aged crowd, or maybe even younger — older high school kids just going to their first shows, getting a little taste of freedom and some money in their pockets," P-Nut said. "I think that's one of the things that's kept us along is that we do have a certain amount of excitement and energy level that makes it easy for college kids to have a great time at our shows. We are kinda perpetually stuck in that ourselves. We wanna rock out."
To 311, the live show is as much of a mental task as it is a physical task. The band has often written songs about more worldly subjects than most groups' normal fare.
As P-Nut describes it, a person with a big voice, such as 311 and its microphones, should use it to talk about issues that might otherwise get only one-sided activism.
For P-Nut and 311, the decriminalization of marijuana has become an important issue, which is understandable considering the band's position with youth and counterculture.
"I don't think anyone can really defend that it is better to arrest stoners than not," P-Nut said. "It's tying up our legal system; it's costing penitentiaries space for actual criminals. It's an important thing to talk about; the tides are starting to turn. We got 14 states doing medical marijuana, and when I get back home to California, I'm gonna vote to decriminalize marijuana across the board. ... It's such a stupid law. People need to be educated more than they need to be incarcerated."
Regardless of political positions, it is 311's music that keeps the band thriving.
With one beautiful disaster after another, 311 hopes to keep bringing its raucous live show year after year, venue after venue, for as long as anyone cares to see them.
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