Frontman Karlos Paez meets our writer to discuss 30 years of music, vibes, and killer hats.

February 2 was a cold Friday night in Little Italy. But the B-Side Players turned on the heat at the Music Box for their 30th anniversary celebration. I can remember three good things that happened in 1994. My son Joseph was born, the World Cup was played here in the USA, and the B-Side Players got started.

Heather was my companion for the evening, but not my date. Rather, she was my extra set of eyes. (I met her at the Yellowman show at Winstons.) We congregated at a bar in Coronado around 6:30 for a drink, because we share the same zip code and could therefore share the same Lyft. It was announced that teh doors opened at 8 pm. We were both hungry, but I worried about whether or not we had time to eat. Heather took a sip of her beer and said, “I got some intel for you. My friend Paige works at the Music Box, and they won’t go on until 10.” I had chosen well.

When we got to the venue, Paige was checking in VIPs and private party goers. Heather said a quick hello to her friend, and we ventured into Little Italy to grab a bite to eat. I took too long in picking Davanti Enoteca on India Street, and then we got lost in the conversation and the food. When Heather looked at her watch, it was almost 10. We split the bill and headed out.

On the cold walk to the Music Box, I explained to Heather that I was had been trying to reach the band by both e-mail and social media, but was not getting any response. I was feeling defeated — until I walked into the tri-level venue, saw frontman Karlos Paez, and went right up to him. He was looking as smooth as always, what with his beige outfit, his beige crown hat, and his long dreadlocks tied together into ponytails. “It’s an honor to meet you and to celebrate the band’s 30th year anniversary with you,” I said. “May I have a word with you after the show?” His reply was as smooth as his look: “Of course; we can meet right outside.” We parted, and I hit the bar off to the left for another round of drinks. I glanced up at the mezzanine, the top floor, and the VIP Room, and wondered if Paige might be a good source of information about them. In the meantime, Grey Goose & soda and a beer ran my bar tab to $24.90.

The band came on as we were looking for the right place to stand/boogie. No better place than smack dab in the middle of the floor, facing the LED video wall with “B-Side Players” in big bold print and a third eye watching over all. The horns and percussion started right after the band marched out, and so did the two-stepping.

Ten-piece, eleven-piece band? I lost count. Not one person was standing like a statue, not even in the upper VIP sections. The ingredients for this musical gumbo included flavors from Latin America, and the Caribbean; I caught whiffs of cumbia, reggae, reggaeton, salsa, Afro-beat, funk, rock and jazz. There was also a hearty dollop of politics. “Nuestras Damandas” provided hard-charging lyrics in Spanish — rasta, La Raza, and Zapatizta all at once! Got me wanting to fight for liberation. They did their own renditions of the Eagles’ “Hotel California” and Bob Marley’s “Could You Be Loved.” They brought out guests: Karlos’s Tio Gio, Damien and Latanya Lockett.

The show ended, and it was time to look for Karlos. Heather and I went outside and saw some of the other band members pour out — but no Karlos. We had a chance to share a Lyft back to Coronado with a friend of Heather’s and her husband, but we chose to stick to our plan. It got colder. Heather had to go to the restroom. When she came back, she said, “I think there’s something going on inside, and we should check it out.” We went back in, and Karlos was by the merchandise booth. We talked. I mentioned that I had noticed changes in the band lineup over the years. “In thirty years, we’ve had over 70 musicians play in the band for recording or touring,” said Karlos. Just then, a woman burst in to give Karlos a hug, then put her hand over her mouth in mock embarrassment when she realized he was being interviewed. I asked about his roots. “My dad was a musician all his life. He came from a musical family from Old Sinaloa. Playing banda and that Sinaloa sound. It’s kind of in my blood. I resisted that life because my father would miss baseball games and graduations. I tried to resist, because it’s a hard life, but it kept calling me. By the time I was twenty-two years old, I started this band.”

Another sort of music box had helped amplify that call: a box of records he found in the alley behind his house in National City. “It was a serious record collection that consisted of Parliament, Curtis Mayfield, and a lot of Motown stuff. B-Side Players knows how to make people boogie because of that record collection I found when I was fourteen years old.”