Denton, Roho and the Van Years

The move toward Denton accelerated.

Jeff Roe—FFROE to everyone who knew him—became one of the most important people in Bowling for Soup's history. Through Beef Jerky and his new FFROE Records, he helped give this band from Wichita Falls credibility inside the Dallas/Denton scene. He knew club bookers. He understood the ecosystem. He could make a phone call and get the band into places where they just couldn't seem to get a foot in the door.

He became Bowling for Soup's booking agent and eventually the manager. In fact, Jaret and FFROE would build a partnership that co-managed the band through its biggest years.

Jaret has never minimized what FFROE meant.

Bowling for Soup would not have become Bowling for Soup without him.

The band's next recording was Rock on Honorable Ones!!, its title borrowed from the motto of Jaret, Chris and Lance's high school, S.H. Rider High School: “Ride On Honorable Ones,” or ROHO.

The record was recorded at Realtime Audio with Eric Delegard—the first time Bowling for Soup felt like it was making a record in a truly professional studio.

Professional studios cost professional-studio money.

The band ran out halfway through.

Recording stopped, and the fellas went back to work and played cover gigs until they could afford to continue.

Several songs on the ROHO album featured horns, inspired by what was happening in the era with bands like Reel Big Fish, Less Than Jake and Goldfinger. Denton is home to the University of North Texas, meaning world-class young musicians were everywhere. The members of Beef Jerky were among them. FFROE arranged the horn parts and got the players to come into Reel Time and lay down the magic.

At the same time, the road was beginning to reveal who wanted that life and who didn't.

Lance had been one of Jaret's closest friends since childhood. They had played T-ball together (winning the city championship with The Fireballs), gone through public school and college together, marched in band together and spent years making music.

He was also falling in love and thinking seriously about the life he wanted with the woman who would become—and remains—his wife.

Road life was not it.

Lance eventually announced he would be stepping away.

Bowling for Soup tried a few drummers. Good drummers, but not the right drummer.

Gary Wiseman had grown up in the Wichita Falls/Refuge scene. He had been to every coolfork!! show but one, had seen all of Chris, Lance and Erik’s other bands, and had even played shows with them with his band Bullytree.

Now he was 19 and playing in Gary and the Wisemen (a band that got its name from Chris Burney), and doing some shows here and there with Bowling for Soup. Jaret watched him one night at Rick's Place in Denton from the side of the stage and, before Lance's departure was even final, warned him that if Bowling for Soup ever needed a drummer, they were going to steal him.

Eventually, they did.

A quick phone call from Jaret to Gary sealed the deal for Bowling for Soup, but not for Gary. He still had to tell his mom and drop out of college.

Gary's preparation for his first show was not exactly professional.

Rehearsals one and two both involved playing “Suckerpunch” and then having pizza and beer.

His third and final rehearsal followed a similar pattern before everyone ended up watching the Dallas Stars in the Stanley Cup at the restaurant where Erik worked.

Then they loaded up and drove overnight to Nashville.

Gary knew the songs, but not the names.

Before some of them, Jaret would walk back to the drums and sing Gary the intro.

It worked.

And one of the most important things Gary eventually brought to Bowling for Soup was not something flashy.

Jaret is a drummer himself. His philosophy is that if he has to think about what the drummer behind him is doing, something is wrong.

He never had to think about Lance.

And he quickly didn't have to think about Gary either.

Gary learned how to take his natural energy and chops and put them inside the song. He learned that he didn't need to show all of his chops in every song. He learned to be a part of the song.

He became the drummer of Bowling for Soup.

Then the band hit the road.

And stayed there.

Jaret booked tours through magazines, phone calls and word of mouth. Bowling for Soup would disappear for a month at a time, sleep on floors, play record stores and occasionally do two shows a day.

If they reached a town without a gig, they might walk into a venue and offer a deal:

Fifty dollars.

Four hamburgers.

A case of beer.

Let us play.

Sometimes it worked. And when it did, it worked well!

The next time they came through those towns, more people showed up.

Jaret carried a small book containing the calendar, contacts and tour money.

Everybody called it the Bible.

When a tour ended and they rolled into Denton, whatever remained in the Bible got divided.

Whatever was there was what everyone split.

Then they went out and did it again.

Those were some of the hardest years of Bowling for Soup's life.

They also remember them as some of the best.