In the basement of Page Auditorium Friday night, a group of middle-aged men in New Balances and faded khaki pants laughed and cried as they reminisced about their college years.
In ten minutes, past and present members of Duke’s a cappella group Speak of the Devil would take the stage to deliver a mixture of songs from Beyoncé, “The Lion King” and country artists for an equally amused and perplexed audience. But for now, the focus was on friendship and their history.
The 25th anniversary reunion concert for Speak of the Devil—known to its members simply as “Speak”—was equal parts sentimental and humorous, a balance that has defined the group as a whole from its founding in 1991 until now.
A self-proclaimed “fraternity” and “the closest group of campus bar none” by its members, Speak prides itself on establishing a brotherhood that lasts beyond the college years.
“It’s hard to describe how much I love it,” junior Andrew Jackson, current president of the group, said. “To see how the community continues through the years means so much to me personally.”
Former member and 1997 graduate David Frankel, assistant dean of students and the group’s advisor, noted that being in Speak defined his time at Duke. It gave him a constant group of people at his side, including the best man in his wedding.
“It really served as my closest group of friends,” he said.
Speak of the Devil began 25 years ago the way most a cappella groups in movies start—with the founders being rejected from the sole a cappella troupe on campus at the time. Preston Kim and Walter Moore, both Trinity ‘93, were walking back to East Campus after receiving their rejections during their first year at Duke when Moore looked at Kim and said, “Why don’t we just start our own?”
They explained that a cappella back then was not the thriving community it is today, and prospective members were scarce. Moore and Kim took to looking through the first-year class book—which contained information about each member of their class—to find students who listed “music” as an interest, whom they later called up and asked to join their group.
Moore said that in the beginning, they would take anyone “who could hold a note.”
The first concert featured their rendition of “Coney Island Baby” by Lou Reed, during which they “spit out ping pong balls at the audience,” Kim said. For Speak, it was always about the performance as a whole, not solely the music.
One of Kim’s favorite numbers was their Star Trek-themed skit called “The Wrath of Dean Sue.”
During Moore and Kim’s junior year, Speak performed at the annual Orientation Week a cappella concert, which cemented their reputation as a credible group.
This was also the year that the traditions began—Fall and Spring Break tours, mysterious initiation rituals and several celebrations for members year after year. The group continues these traditions to the present day.
Before each concert, members stand in a circle to share what they are thankful for in regards to the group—a communal act that has stood the test of time, Moore said.
Speak also encourages its members to “own the cheese,” which means fully committing to their performance and to making sure the audience is having a good time, said senior and former Speak president William Windham.
“[The rituals] underscore how close we all are,” Jackson said. “There are so many inside jokes that would not be funny to anyone else.”
The group’s sense of humor was on full display during the reunion as past members reminisced about their time as undergraduates. Adam Jacks, Trinity ‘98, recalled a crazy night when the boys broke a massive planter on East Campus, and another shared the fact that each year’s group had its own infamous quotes.
His year’s was, “What the f**k is that smell? It can’t just be the vomit.”
Windham noted that watching the alums was like “looking into an older version of ourselves.”
“We realized that none of the jokes we make are original, because these guys have all done it before,” he said.
Jackson said past members organize alumni reunions every five years, where they make an effort to connect with current members. Before the performance, Seth Gottlieb, Trinity ‘05, was filled with pride for the current group. Speak seniors looking for jobs should simply talk to him, he said.
“Do you have to be a senior?" another alum asked.
Past members frequently return to campus for Speak’s big shows to cheer on the next generation, Jackson explained.
Windham still keeps in touch with many of the past members, whom he referred to as his “brothers,” via text.
A bond inevitably forms among the Speak members through the shared thrill of performing in front of large groups of people, Kim said, because “what [they] do on stage is risky.”
Despite the fulfilling, busy careers of the group's alumni, Speak remains an integral part of their lives.
“When people leave the group, they feel a great sense of loss,” Kim said. “That’s why we have so many guys returning [for the reunion].”
Frankel noted that the reunions are an opportunity for current members to meet alums who have been in their same situations.
“It creates those connections between students and alumni that hopefully carry on,” he said.
In the spirit of remembering their past performing days, the alums sang Friday night, both with the current members and by themselves in groups they called “Speak of the Dinosaurs” and “Old Speak.”
Windham said that he was impressed with the alums’ ability to pick up right where they left off.
Moore—in his neon polo shirt and sneakers—and the Dinosaurs awed the crowd with a smooth, semi-coordinated spin while singing. But it was Old Speak’s tribute to a member who passed away from cancer in 2008, Tony Milin, that stole the show. Then, both alumni groups joined forces with the current members for renditions of "Africa" by Toto and “With or Without You” by U2.
But what was really on display the whole night was their friendship, for some lasting 25 years and for others newly formed.
“For a bunch of guys who kid with each other, there’s a lot of love there,” Moore said.
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