Kick Your Heels Up and SHOUT!

Traveling back in time to a childhood talent show

We are so very excited for this week’s collaboration piece. We had a heck of a time writing it, and we sure do hope you enjoy it. Special thanks to our mom, sister Jenny, and pal Alicia for traveling down memory lane with us.

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Raise your hand if you ever participated, as a contestant, or audience member, in the elementary school talent show. Are you picturing a cafeteria stage with a scarily steep cliff that drops down to a crusty tile flooring that was laid in the 1960s? Do you recall the kinds of "talent" you were subjected to while being forced to stick around for your sibling’s squeaky recorder rendition of Hot Cross Buns? Perhaps you were part of the behind-the-scenes crew of crepe paper props and ocean waves crafted from cardboard cutouts.

As a child, nothing thrilled Kara more than the morning intercom announcement that Las Flores elementary school in Ridgecrest, California would be hosting their very own talent show. A natural performer (in dance, and in the tradition of first-born camera hams), she quickly recruited her nonchalant and influential younger sister (Bethany) and their bouncy next door neighbor girl (Alicia), to her team. She gathered them around the kitchen table to roll out her master plan: they (Kara) would craft a dancing choreography to the tune of the 1959 hit, Shout, by The Isley Brothers. (If you haven’t heard this song, please take 4 and a half minutes to listen before proceeding. We need you to feel it with us.) This spectacle would surely ascend them to the 1995 first place platform.

Initially, all three girls had jumped on board, full speed ahead. Kara instituted a rigorous rehearsing schedule. Every day after school, Bethany and Alicia were to drop their backpacks and head out to the front lawn where Kara would be waiting with a boombox and jazz shoes. They practiced for what Bethany recalls as hours in the hot sun, learning and re-learning the foot moves required to do the performance proud.

Multiple times throughout the training process, Bethany threw her hands up in exasperation that she was missing the latest Saved by the Bell episode in exchange for listening to her older sister boss her around. On the daily, Bethany would announce that she quit. She would walk inside, lamenting that she could not tolerate working under these conditions, only to return with her tail between her legs to resume rehearsals for fear that Kara and Alicia would take first place sans her.

Every great choreographer has to feel the music and make use of its unique attributes. There’s a point in the Shout song—the bridge—when the music suddenly stops in the most dramatic fashion, only to resume with a beat that is much slower than the previous beat, before ultimately picking up with the fast-paced SHOUT lyrics. (Again, you’ve got to hear this thing.) The choreography needed to make use of this opportunity. Per Kara’s instruction, at this moment the girls would stop dead in their dancing tracks. They’d sort of melt toward the ground. And then when things picked up again, Kara would wow everyone with back-hand-springs across the stage while Bethany and Alicia yelled "SHOUT!" and feebly attempted spread eagle jumps in (terribly uncoordinated) unison.

The talent also needed props. This is where the “parental units” came in. Alicia’s dad was tasked with making a contraption that would allow the massive “SHOUT!” sign to be easily transported on and off stage and would display it during their number. (Props placed on walls, or the dusty royal blue curtain backdrops, were strictly prohibited.) Kara explained her vision without much confidence, but high expectation, that he would make it happen. Low and behold, he came through with two stand-alone poles attached to small barrel-looking things (for easy rolling on and off stage). These were better than Kara had imagined (demanded)! Things were looking up!

Our own mother was tasked with costumes. Kara’s vision was simple. Tasteful. Three shades of (Kara’s favorite) turquoise shirts. Each with “SHOUT!” imprinted on the front and our names on the back. These would be combined with black bike shorts for the perfect look. Practical. Comfortable. Literal. No one could misinterpret this.

In those days, you couldn’t whip up an Etsy order or crank up your Cricut for a custom job. Our mom searched high and low for someone who would come through on this. When she found the willing candidate, one small detail was lost in translation. Somehow, one of the three shirts was ordered up as an Adult Large, rather than a Child Large. Despite initial panics, it was nothing an 80’s style side tie couldn’t handle. Our stock continued to rise.

Crucial to the performance, at least in Kara’s mind, was crowd involvement. Hence the sign and shirts. And parents given instructions to loudly sing so others would follow suit. This would be a cram down. The audience would have no choice but to contribute unless they wanted everyone to feel like idiots . That whole cafeteria would be SHOUT-ing together.

The big day came. The performers fueled up with Dr. Peppers and Cool Ranch Doritos. One last rehearsal was in order. Kara ran this one lightly, as she couldn’t risk another walk out at show time. This would simply be to get the jitters out and remind everyone of the importance of a great showing.

Let us tell you, this thing was legendary (in our minds). It blew the pianists and jugglers out of the water. Sure, we had a moment of consternation when another dance group killed it to “This is How We Do It,” by Montell Jordan but this was short lived. All of the hard work, the patience (on Bethany and Alicia’s part), the choreography, the costumes, the ponytails, and the props came together for a performance unlike any this talent show had ever seen. It would never be topped. It was The Shout Era.

To Kara's credit, Bethany does recall her straining with massive effort to work with the miniscule amount of "talent" Bethany and Alicia brought to the table. She even allowed solo performances during the song in which they each had their moment to shine. Bethany recalls Alicia’s section as some version of the Napoleon Dynamite presidential race dance when he is alternating side leg extensions with opposite side hand points to the ground. However, all pressure was on Kara to bring it home at the finale. She gladly took on this responsibility. It was her moment.

Video above: Bethany’s reenactment of Alicia’s solo performance.

Audio above: Alicia’s memory of the whole thing.

We both recall the talent show experience with great fondness. It was a smashing success. The whole cafeteria was singing along. (Not just in our minds. We’ve fact checked this point. Yes, with our mother and our co-performer.) We don’t think there was an actual first place prize to be won, but believe us, if there had been, we would have taken it home.

The Isley Brothers were, of course, the golden talent. Our principal, Mr. Carter, even swayed his hips to their tune after being subjected to multiple song and dance renditions of “I Saw the Sign” by Ace of Base.

“SHOUT!” provided a bewitching 4 minutes and 28 seconds of musical genius to approximately 137 people huddled together on a Friday night in 1995, sitting on rock hard cafeteria benches with no back support in the middle of the Mojave desert in a town of roughly 32,000 people that had once been dubbed Crumville.

Collectively, we were transported to the freedom of tossing our heads back, screaming feel-good audibles into the dry air void, allowing our bodies to dance and jump and feel the joy, watching the audience transform from tired numb-butt parents and pissed off, misbehaving siblings into enchanted singers and enthusiastic clappers, giving the crowd a brief moment in time to lose themselves in the possibility of the SHOUT. No longer were we surrounded by tumbleweeds and dirt, unplanned pregnancies and disappointing dreams, unpredictable earthquakes and small town gossip. Our sleepy town seemed to stand still, slicing in half the clouds of mediocrity to remind all those in attendance, we can, and will, live with the possibility of “what if?”

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