May 2, 2016
The lead singer set his bright, neon pink folder on the music stand at the front of the stage. He started shuffling through papers with handwritten lyrics as the guitarists checked the tuning on their main axes, then on their back-up axes, then on their back-up to their back-up axes. Bandanas were adjusted and readjusted. Eyeliner was touched up for that bold androgynous effect.
This was our debut gig. Everything had to be perfect. I mean, we had to kick total ass tonight. Now was our chance to take over the world of '80s metal cover bands; a world with 769,512 fierce lipstick wearing - torn jean - leather clad- spandex squeezed - metal chains and spikes around the neck - other '80s metal cover bands. A big world, indeed; but we were ready to rock. And we wanted it all.
Past the glaring stage lights, we could see this little suburban Irish bar was packed with regulars. And dig this, we had a draw. This dude, our rhythm guitarist's wife's uncle, somehow heard about our show and made it a point to drive across town just to catch our set. We were psyched, for sure. One day we'd look back at this Wednesday night open mic and say "That's where this whole wild rock & roll ride started."
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome S.O.S. to the stage."
BOOM!! We rocked that place as hard as we could. Months of rehearsals, blood, sweat, tears, band meetings, plotting, planning, wardrobe shopping, gear tweaking, and beer drinking came together in this perfect moment on stage in front of all these people. It was a blast; a release. It was the first time I played bass on stage. Yeah, I had been a guitarist up to that point in my life. But I was totally loving my new role as bassist here. Then, in a blink of an eye and 3 songs later, it was over. We gave a little smile and appreciative nod to the cheering crowd, and quickly started breaking down our gear to make way for the next band. As I stepped off stage with my bass in hand, all I could think was "Wow!! Wow!! That totally sucked. I need a beer."
True, I can sometimes be a bit overly critical. I can't say we were the worst band I ever heard. But this was the worst band I ever gigged with. It wasn't that any single person was terrible. We were all just mediocre enough in different ways that it...well, just wasn't all that great. I bowed out of the band a month or two later. Sure, I was gonna really miss hanging out in the garage and jamming with these good friends of mine. We always had a lot of fun. But I was trying to scratch out a living as a professional musician now. And I just didn't see this band going down that same road.
So what next?
Tommy Tedesco once said "There are only 3 reasons to take a gig : for the money, for the connections, or for the fun of it." I completely agree with that. Now, the money and fun are pretty clearly defined payouts. But the connections are sometimes not always so clear. Sometimes you just could have never guessed who you might run into, or who might become a fan or future collaborator, or where any of it would lead to. And that was the case with S.O.S.'s debut gig.
A month or so after leaving the band, I got an unexpected phone call. That dude who came out to our first show, our rhythm guitarist's wife's uncle, said he really liked the way I played bass. He wanted me to join his new adult contemporary project. The focus would be on writing and recording original music, then gigging to promote those tunes. Fortunes, fame, stadiums filled with swooning fans, incessant adorations from LA and Nashville hit makers...sure, why not. It all sounded fine to me. And aside from teaching guitar, I didn't have a lot else going on at the time. So I picked up a cd with his rough drafts, then went to work writing some bass lines.
The first rehearsal with the new band really took me by surprise. I was introduced to two of the best musicians I had ever played with. We jelled instantly. The drummer, Tony Dale, was so good he could have dropped a pencil and it would have grooved as it fell to the floor. The vocalist was Diva Montell, the fantastic opera singer who was just as capable in jazz or rock, and had a stage charisma that would've made even Freddie Mercury blush. Yes, it was the same Diva Montell who, 4 years later, invited me to join the newly forming Heart to Heartbreaker.
And that right there is "the connections," albeit sometimes unknown, Tommy Tedesco was talking about. I've been through this recurring story many times since I first set foot on stage at a 15 years old. Someone saw me play somewhere at some time and now they want me to play for them.
So when I hear someone say they want to be a musician, I tell them the only two things I think I've figured out are :
1. Be a good one...practice your ass off.
2. Play anywhere, any time, with anyone, in front of as many people as you can. It's those connections that will most likely lead to your next gig and the one after that.
This was our debut gig. Everything had to be perfect. I mean, we had to kick total ass tonight. Now was our chance to take over the world of '80s metal cover bands; a world with 769,512 fierce lipstick wearing - torn jean - leather clad- spandex squeezed - metal chains and spikes around the neck - other '80s metal cover bands. A big world, indeed; but we were ready to rock. And we wanted it all.
Past the glaring stage lights, we could see this little suburban Irish bar was packed with regulars. And dig this, we had a draw. This dude, our rhythm guitarist's wife's uncle, somehow heard about our show and made it a point to drive across town just to catch our set. We were psyched, for sure. One day we'd look back at this Wednesday night open mic and say "That's where this whole wild rock & roll ride started."
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome S.O.S. to the stage."
BOOM!! We rocked that place as hard as we could. Months of rehearsals, blood, sweat, tears, band meetings, plotting, planning, wardrobe shopping, gear tweaking, and beer drinking came together in this perfect moment on stage in front of all these people. It was a blast; a release. It was the first time I played bass on stage. Yeah, I had been a guitarist up to that point in my life. But I was totally loving my new role as bassist here. Then, in a blink of an eye and 3 songs later, it was over. We gave a little smile and appreciative nod to the cheering crowd, and quickly started breaking down our gear to make way for the next band. As I stepped off stage with my bass in hand, all I could think was "Wow!! Wow!! That totally sucked. I need a beer."
True, I can sometimes be a bit overly critical. I can't say we were the worst band I ever heard. But this was the worst band I ever gigged with. It wasn't that any single person was terrible. We were all just mediocre enough in different ways that it...well, just wasn't all that great. I bowed out of the band a month or two later. Sure, I was gonna really miss hanging out in the garage and jamming with these good friends of mine. We always had a lot of fun. But I was trying to scratch out a living as a professional musician now. And I just didn't see this band going down that same road.
So what next?
Tommy Tedesco once said "There are only 3 reasons to take a gig : for the money, for the connections, or for the fun of it." I completely agree with that. Now, the money and fun are pretty clearly defined payouts. But the connections are sometimes not always so clear. Sometimes you just could have never guessed who you might run into, or who might become a fan or future collaborator, or where any of it would lead to. And that was the case with S.O.S.'s debut gig.
A month or so after leaving the band, I got an unexpected phone call. That dude who came out to our first show, our rhythm guitarist's wife's uncle, said he really liked the way I played bass. He wanted me to join his new adult contemporary project. The focus would be on writing and recording original music, then gigging to promote those tunes. Fortunes, fame, stadiums filled with swooning fans, incessant adorations from LA and Nashville hit makers...sure, why not. It all sounded fine to me. And aside from teaching guitar, I didn't have a lot else going on at the time. So I picked up a cd with his rough drafts, then went to work writing some bass lines.
The first rehearsal with the new band really took me by surprise. I was introduced to two of the best musicians I had ever played with. We jelled instantly. The drummer, Tony Dale, was so good he could have dropped a pencil and it would have grooved as it fell to the floor. The vocalist was Diva Montell, the fantastic opera singer who was just as capable in jazz or rock, and had a stage charisma that would've made even Freddie Mercury blush. Yes, it was the same Diva Montell who, 4 years later, invited me to join the newly forming Heart to Heartbreaker.
And that right there is "the connections," albeit sometimes unknown, Tommy Tedesco was talking about. I've been through this recurring story many times since I first set foot on stage at a 15 years old. Someone saw me play somewhere at some time and now they want me to play for them.
So when I hear someone say they want to be a musician, I tell them the only two things I think I've figured out are :
1. Be a good one...practice your ass off.
2. Play anywhere, any time, with anyone, in front of as many people as you can. It's those connections that will most likely lead to your next gig and the one after that.