The dimness of the room when you walk in isn't enough to convince you that it's corrupt--there's something too healthy, too alive.

The music hits you, so vibrant that it seems to come from inside of you. It's loud--it fills up the room and then some.

And the people are dancing. They seem a little young, but they're hip, undulating across the floor. Like the horns that solo, one dancer or another emerges from the group, isolated in the passing light of fame.

Finally, you look up at the stage, and you see them: Skavoovie and the Epitones. They're almost laughable, an image of your grandparents in their youth. Decked out in suits, hair greased back, they look more like swing kids than offspring of the grunge and hip-hop era.

Their sound is just as reminiscent of a bygone time: clear, smooth, sharp, reminding you of a sound you thought you had forgotten.

It isn't until you're back at school that you hear the same sweet synthesis at a nearby party, and you see a familiar face--Harvard's small share of the harmony that's Skavoovie. Fat.

John K. Natchez '99 is somewhat shy. Such modesty seems uncommon for a teenager, especially for one who has just released his first album.

Fat Footin', Skavoovie's first solo album, was available in New York as early as December 21; since then it has been distributed throughout the region and can be found in most local music stores. Natchez points out, though, that fans may have to ask for it specially, since it wasn't released on a large corporate label.

Noah Wildman, office manager for Moon Records NYC, the four-person, all-ska label that produced the record describes Skavoovie's music as "a very swingy kind of traditional ska."

Moon's decision to sign the band was based on numerous live appearances by Skavoovie. "This is a band that is deserving of an album and we have the resources, so we did it," he says. "It's a question of quality, really."

"You wouldn't think they were so young because they play with a maturity not heard in many bands," Wildman continues.

In person, however, Natchez is not the slick, hyper-dressed stage presence of Skavoovie; quiet and personable, he doesn't seem that different from any other teenager, slightly anxious at his first solo interview.

Natchez doesn't make full eye contact at first, but he twirls a flute in his hand and covers different finger patterns. He's more comfortable using music to convey his meaning.

To illustrate a point, he puts on a ska CD; his nervous energy channeled to a beat: "skaskaska, skavoovie." He draws out the syllable in a luxuriant Jamaican accent. It's one of many voices he slips into during the interview, punctuating his narration with other people's lives and sounds.

Skavoovie is a 10-man group Natchez joined while a sophomore in high school in Newton, Mass. Most of the band hails from around the region; all are Massachusetts residents.