Way Beyond Bongo: The Beatniks Bounce Back

----------------------------------------------------------- The Beatniks, a record release party, with Bliss and Sublime Fine. The Crocodile Cafe, 2200 Second Ave. Tomorrow night, 10 p.m. Cover, $6. 448-2114. -----------------------------------------------------------

What are you going to do?

In terms of earnings and gross (meaning body count) popularity, you're the biggest band in town. You make more money than boys in shorts and berets should be allowed to make. You have a winning formula that other bands would kill for. A formula you never actually ever formulated. You just thought you'd make a living doing something you liked, playing your old favorite songs. A happy accident.

What a concept: fun as career choice.

The Beatniks - Bobby Beaulieu, Richard Lovrovich, Marcos Nelson and Michael Hurt-Staehli - haphazardly found each other almost two years ago, decided they'd play songs they actually knew, liked and didn't have to rehearse too much, and turned it into box office.

"We never started out to be a '60s cover band," says bassist Lovrovich about the band's largely '60s play list - heavy on the Beatles, Byrds and Stones. "We just did it 'cause it was fun and we were trying to support ourselves. It was never meant to be any more than that. For people to label us as such (a '60s band) is understandable, but we're going to do everything we can to try to alter that perspective. We have our own music as much as anyone else. We always have."

The Beatniks, who have magically attracted a 20-something audience to a '60s-something sound, are making a break. They haven't played a public appearance in almost two months. Their last really memorable gig was at that venerable old dance hall, Parker's, and they returned the joint to what it once was: a room full of noise, a bilious, overflowing crush of happy dancers and listeners."

And now they're tossing it in.

"We could carry on the way we have," say Lovrovich. "No one is more surprised than we are at the reception we've gotten. If we wanted to make $40,000 dollars a year - apiece - we could. But what's the life span on something like this? We're in it for the long haul. We feel we have a solid fan base, we've been working the new material into the set and it's been well-received. Now we're talking that next step."

The next step is "Moo," the Beatniks' first official recorded release, an all-original six-cut EP. Although the disc is independently released, the band is getting more than a few feelers from the majors. The sound is smoothly serrated, harmonic rock with edge. Lovrovich laughs when he talks about how "Seventeen" magazine described the band some months ago.

"They said we did '60s music to the Seattle grunge sound. Combined the two. That's not what we're trying to do at all. It isn't that calculated. We just recorded the music we were writing before all `this' happened."

"This" was starting from scratch and working every small room in almost every 'burb around Seattle. If you mention the names of certain clubs, chances are that anyone in the band can give you an in-depth rundown on the venue's practices and procedure.

"Those guys," they'll collectively recount, "they go through help like we go through underwear. Seriously. Let's not talk about them anymore."

For the Beatniks to play The Crocodile Cafe this weekend is a major move, risky business. Not in the sense of sales: The band's manager, Dean Zelikovsky, is more than optimistic about filling the room. But artistically, the band is putting its collective Beatnik self on the line.

"We know that," says Lovrovich. "We know what we're leaving behind. But we want to talk about what we have ahead of us. If we're going to go anywhere in this business, it'll have to be on our own merits, not just because we happen to play old songs that we think are great and everybody else likes. People will come to hear us because we have a reputation, yes. But we think they'll stay because they like what we have to offer. And what we have to offer is us. And it belongs to us."