Polaris: The Band That Lived In Your Television

For most of the 1990’s, there were only two ways to hear the musical stylings of the semi-fictional and incontrovertibly kick-ass garage band known as Polaris.  You could watch Nickelodeon’s ridiculously hip kid’s show “The Adventures of Pete & Pete,” or, for those seeking a dose of riboflavin with their jangly pop tunes, you could find the band’s lone cassette single in specially marked boxes of Kellogg’s Frosted Mini-Wheats.

Thankfully, the end of the century finally brought the release of Music From the Adventures of Pete & Pete, the CD soundtrack for the long since cancelled series, and the one and only digital artifact of Polaris, “the band that lives in your television.”

For the un-indoctrinated, trying to grasp the symbiotic cult supremacy of this band and this show can prove a tad challenging. For a certain portion of today’s twentysomething cable TV generation, however, the surreal escapades of the brothers Pete — and the music that accompanied them — have left indelible marks, somehow capturing the nostalgic essence of a shared and often strange ‘90s childhood experience.

So, just who exactly were these Polaris guys? Well, in Pete and Pete’s town of Wellsville, they were Muggy (vocals/guitar), Jersey (bass) and Harris Polaris (drums) — the suburban garage trio that frolicked in the Wrigley family’s front yard at the start of each episode, performing the show’s ultra-catchy theme song, “Hey Sandy.” At the same time, in something a little closer to reality, they were Mark Mulcahy, Dave McCaffrey and Scot Boutier — three members of veteran New England indie rock outfit Miracle Legion. 

Formed in Connecticut in 1984, Miracle Legion started out as a lo-fi, jangle-arpeggio band in the R.E.M. mold. They scored some college radio success with The Backyard EP and the full-length Surprise Surprise Surprise, but critics seemed content to brush aside the band as little more than Athens wannabes. This sentiment would quickly change as frontman Mulcahy and guitarist Ray Neal started exploring new territory, particularly on the folksy, 1989 Rough Trade release, Me and Mr. Ray. Mulcahy’s restrained but emotive voice (think David Gray meets Michael Stipe) took its form as a formidable and versatile weapon, inspiring such young, up-and-coming singers as Thom Yorke (Radiohead) and his brother Andy (Unbelievable Truth), both of whom have cited Mulcahy as a major influence.

By the early ‘90s, Mulcahy and Neal were joined by McCaffrey and Boutier, and the quartet signed to the brand new music division of Morgan Creek Productions. The goal was to expand the band’s distribution and entice a new crop of fans. Unfortunately, Morgan Creek stumbled out of the gates financially, and Miracle Legion’s intended breakthrough record, Drenched, went quietly into the night.

It was around this time period that Mark Mulcahy received a phone call from “Pete & Pete” co-creator Will McRobb. Once merely a collection of 30-second short films about two carrot-topped brothers and their unusual cohorts, “The Adventures of Pete & Pete” was now becoming a regular, full-length series on Nickelodeon, and McRobb — a Miracle Legion fan — wanted Mulcahy to write some songs for the show. Today, it’s unlikely that any adolescent-themed program would be permitted to leave its score in the hands of an obscure, middle-aged, alt-rock singer/songwriter, but this was Nickelodeon’s daring period, when Devo’s Mark Mothersbaugh was working on “Rugrats” and Donkeylips was solidifying his own cult status on “Salute Your Shorts.” So, Mulcahy signed on the dotted line, and Polaris was officially born. 

As would quickly become apparent, no show — for kids or adults — could rival “Pete & Pete” when it came to street cred. Mulcahy’s original music was complemented in each episode by a stellar selection of cutting edge indie-pop (Magnetic Fields, Apples In Stereo, Luscious Jackson), and everyone from Iggy Pop and Michael Stipe to Steve Buscemi and Debbie Harry made cameo appearances on the Wellsville set.

It was truly the music of Polaris, though, that best exemplified the weird and romantic ethos of the show. For each of the 12 songs Mulcahy penned specifically for the series, McRobb had done little more than suggest a certain feeling or mood that needed to be conveyed.  In response, the man also known as Muggy was able to work without restraints, both as a lead guitarist (Ray Neal decided not to take part in the Polaris project) and lyricist.

For a theme song, he delivered “Hey Sandy,” a track most famous for its nonsensical wordplay. For an up-tempo, closing credits piece, there was “Waiting For October,” a crazily catchy tune about the apocalypse.  Then there’s “Summerbaby,” a Lou Reedish anthem that becomes Little Pete’s all-time favorite song. Not surprisingly, the song’s masturbatory references were edited out in that particular episode.

To be fair, there are times when Mulcahy’s lyrical themes do match up with the show’s plot points (“She Is Staggering” and “Everywhere” work quite nicely during Big Pete’s puppy love moments with his friend Ellen), but for the most part, the songs of Polaris succeed not by speaking for the characters on the screen, but for those on the other side of it. The guitars chime loosely, the bass bounces, the cymbals shimmer, and the next thing you know, you’re a kid again. These are the sorts of pop songs that make you dance when you’re 12 and cry when you’re 30.

These days, both Polaris and Miracle Legion are in stasis, but Mulcahy has remained active, releasing three critically acclaimed solo albums over the past decade. His most recent, In Pursuit of Your Happiness, featured guest appearances by J. Mascis of Dinosaur Jr. and Joey Santiago of the Pixies. For those who remember, then, the spirit of Muggy lives on.