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Something in the Way He Moves

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What happened to Matonis over the course of the next few years is unclear. Ask him about his personal history, and he gives vague responses or answers with musically related anecdotes. Like many people his age, he reveled in a hedonistic subculture known for its excesses, but he says he never did drugs, never drank alcohol and never smoked tobacco. Academic records indicate that Matonis graduated from the University of Missouri-St. Louis (UMSL) with a degree in social work in 1983. In a story published in the UMSL student newspaper last fall, Matonis said that he graduated in 1977. He also told the newspaper that he had taken "a few years off between college and high school to travel the world."

Though Beatle Bob claims his nickname was divinely inspired by the wrath of Sister Celeste, he didn't begin using the handle full-time until 1980, when he started writing for Jet Lag, a fan magazine that covered the St. Louis music scene. At Jet Lag, his moniker was added to a list of concert and record reviewers who used bylines such as John the Mailman and Hash Brown. Beatle Bob's first article for the publication critiqued a performance by Jan and Dean, the '60s surf-music duo, who were then on a comeback tour.

By this point, Beatle Bob had already established his reputation as a solo dancer. "He was the same guy, only a little less fixed," says Steve Pick, the co-founder of Jet Lag. "It was the same principle -- the sharp dresser, the crazy dancer." Pick, now a music writer for The Riverfront Times, recalls a quintessential Beatle Bob anecdote from a 1983 concert. "There were maybe 500 people left in the (St. Louis) Arena, because James Brown didn't come out until like 2:30 in the morning," says Pick. "It was one of those seven-act bills, and there were delays between all the acts. Bob and I were the only two white guys left in the place. Bob was doing his thing right at the foot of the stage, and these drop-dead gorgeous women were standing right behind him. One of them tapped him on the shoulder to dance. He turned around and smiled at her and then turned (back) and danced by himself. Nowadays he will occasionally dance with somebody, but back then it was always alone."

Beatle Bob himself traces the origins of his singular dance style back to the late 1970s, when he had an epiphany of sorts. "The moment that really inspired me to dance alone was at a Dwight Twilley concert," he says. "All of us were standing close to the stage (when) my friend Paul Yamada started dancing like crazy."

The uninhibited behavior was uncharacteristic of his friend, who normally approached music in a scholarly way. Yamada, a graduate instructor, taught a course in rock & roll history at Washington University and worked as a clerk at Peaches, a record store on Hampton Avenue. Through him, Beatle Bob had discovered the Ramones, the seminal punk-rock band from New York. His friend had also exposed him to magazines that chronicled the nascent new-wave movement and books that delved into the country and blues roots of rock & roll. But it was Yamada's exhibition at the Twilley concert that inspired Beatle Bob the most. The serious student of music had suddenly lost his composure and entered into a rhythmic fit. "Paul was kind of shaped like a fireplug. He just started shaking back and forth," says Beatle Bob. If Yamada, a subdued academic, could be so unrestrained, Beatle Bob reasoned, he could, too. "That very night I started doing it. The funny thing is, Paul never danced again."

The genre of music that ignited Beatle Bob's footloose fancy is categorized as "power pop." In Twilley's case, the form combined Beatlesque harmonies set to a rockabilly beat. In the liner notes of his first album, Twilley credits "black-and-white magic" for the success of the project. The album cover includes three pentacles in the design, and an inside photograph shows the recording artist wearing a similar five-sided star, which is an occult symbol. The Tulsa, Okla., singer's only hit record, "I'm on Fire," which charted at No. 16 in 1975, includes this rather disturbing verse:

I remember the feeling that I could be free
Now I know it could never be me,
Because I'm on fire
Got myself on fire...

Twilley's performance at Mississippi Nights, on Laclede's Landing, was part of a burgeoning club scene that was beginning to flourish across the city. The emergence of new venues provided Beatle Bob with an expanding dance floor. Cicero's, in the University City Loop, started booking bands in 1983. Off Broadway, a South Side club, opened up in 1984. The Hi-Pointe Cafe arrived in 1986. With each new club, the diversity grew: Punk, zydeco, reggae, folk, blues and, eventually, alternative rock all were given new outlets. Roots music such as this rarely had received any radio play before the advent of community-radio station KDHX (88.1 FM), which didn't start broadcasting until 1987. Instead, the commercial stations saturated the airwaves with banality. For every Police or Clash song that made the charts, there were dozens of sappy tunes by Barry Manilow, Kenny Rogers, Donna Summer, and the Captain and Tennille. "They started playing stuff that was not rock & roll," says Beatle Bob, "things that were too orchestrated. It had no meaning whatsoever."

Beatle Bob was not alone in his view. As disdain for the status quo grew, legions of young people simply tuned out commercial radio. Some of the disaffected took an interest in traditional and acoustic music such as bluegrass. Others consciously rejected the music industry's offerings by devoting their attention to local garage bands and the punk-rock scene. The latter genre consisted of angst-driven lyrics and thrashing three-chord guitar progressions played at ear-splitting volumes. Borne of postindustrial nihilism, the elementary compositions were played so fast that they often provoked a convulsive response in those who attempted to dance to the music. The simplest method of keeping up with the beat was a dance step called the Pogo, which required nothing more than aerobic stamina and the ability to jump up and down. Dancers who attempted any lateral movements were limited to clipped motions that resembled a spasmodic jitterbug. During the mid- and late 1970s, Beatle Bob spent time with a small following that had developed around local punk bands that often performed at South Side bowling alleys and VFW halls. It was under the influence of these obscure and short-lived ensembles that he honed his dance moves.

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