BREAKING NEWS :

Right from the start it became very clear that the kids were alright and I was at least half wrong. I was –and am- still writing, recording, and performing my little heart out, but through the years of mean club owners not wanting me around, door guys who seem like they never learned to smile and think of patrons as the bloodsucking parasites that cause them to have to go to a job they clearly despise, and all the drunks who’ve loved my band until they found out we don’t know their favorite Molly Hatchet song, at which time my band becomes the worst band ever and they leave, presumably to drive off drunk in to the night swerving and killing all the way home, I may have become a slight bit cynical.

The kids were alright. In fact, they were better than alright, they were great. First up to be judged was a band to which Simon Cowell would have been mean. I think Simon Cowell is a dolt, however, and that he makes a great living by doing mean things that were probably done to him as a child – things that will probably get cleared up after some time in therapy, and I think that the earnestness of the two lead singers was great and that just like everyone at the beginning, with some practice, the talent will come to match the desire. The rest of the band, who ably backed up the leaders were like flies on the wall, so in the comments field of the judging form I was dutifully filling out as if they would be given to the bands later as a helpful bit of critique, I wrote something that I tell myself and my band members and anyone else who’ll listen all the time because I have faith in its validity. “There is seldom much difference between an audience’s reaction to you and its reflection of you.”

One down, five to go. I was becoming more comfortable with my lot and eager to hear what the future of the evening had in store.

A band came up with a couple members I’d known before. They had once been part of Rock ‘n’ More’s Rockology class and, after a few quarters, decided to go out on their own. I can’t blame anyone for that. That’s our goal at the school. I’m sure it’s much more difficult but, hopefully, more rewarding to know that you can book a gig without Dace’s help.

This particular band had its earnestness knob up to ten. The singer sang songs about love gone bad and about love gone right and about cruising the strip with his buddies looking to pick up on chicks. I didn’t know there was a strip around Maple Valley where a group of friends could drive and pick up on chicks, but then again, I didn’t grow up around here. I grew up on the Eastside where cruising down the street adjacent to Lake Washington had been outlawed. I had heard that the rule was that if a cop saw your car on that street more than twice in one night, you’d get a ticket. It was all pure hearsay, but I believed it. I only went cruising once. I went with my friends Pat and Geoff in Pat’s 60-something-or-other Chevy muscle car. There were so many cars that it felt like we were stuck in a traffic jam. I thought it was boring. Didn’t pick up on a single chick. The singer of this band clearly did not share a history of cruising with me. Whether or not there was a strip to cruise; that he did or did not cruise it; or that he did or did not pick up on chicks simply did not matter. When he threw his mic wielding arm high above himself and cocked his head to the left where the guitar player was throwing down sermons on his Les Paul, I believed that he believed it, and that made the audience believe it, and who was I to do anything but to believe it myself?

To be continued next week…

I could have competed at the local “Battle of the Bands” a couple weeks ago. Even though I’m too old for the competition, the rest of my band is not, so we were told we could compete if we wanted to. There’s no way you could have gotten me to ever do that though. There was no way I could have won. If I were to have done well in the voting then, me, the President of a music school, has just beaten a bunch of kids. I’d look like a total jerk.  If I didn’t do well in the voting then all my credibility as a professional musician would be out the window because I just lost to a bunch of kids. So I judged instead. That felt right. I’ve been teaching for close to a decade now and have been studying rock music in one way or another for virtually my entire life.

Even before walking into the venue at which the event was held –The Den Teen Center- I knew that this was not my kind of place. High school aged kids were hanging around the entrance and wandering about the parking lot, sending text messages, and doing their best to be cool. The way any high schooler should. A band was unpacking their gear and staging it just outside the front entrance all perfectly windswept banged and tight clothed. No, this place was not for me. This place belonged to the kids. They owned it. It was their world and I was invited just for the evening. I was clearly an outsider and almost felt like I was travelling back in time back to high school where I spent a lot of my time just trying to not be the butt of someone’s joke. It’s weird. I’ve spent most of my adult life overcoming my self-confidence issues –I thought- successfully but, for the first several minutes of my experience that night, I thought I had fallen off the wagon. Just as I later found out at my high school reunion, there was no real malice intended upon me. It was all in my head; A figment of my imagination; I made it up; both in high school and at The Den.

By the time the music started at six o’clock sharp, I had made my acquaintance with the staff members on hand, been shown to the judging table and been told what it is that I was supposed to do there. I met the other judges –that part’s not totally true, I’ve known one of the judges, Arielle, pretty well for a while now- and settled in for a night of hormone fueled rock star hopefuls pouring their guts out all over the stage.

Right from the start it became very clear that the kids were alright and I was at least half wrong… I’ll tell you what I mean next week in Part II of this saga.

Keeping the band together; I’ve written about it before, I’m writing about it now, I’ll write about it again in the future. Why? It is the single most discussed topic of frustration at Dace’s Rock ‘n’ More Music Academy. Seldom does a week go by that I’m not talking to a student and/or parent about how the keeping of a band together is extremely difficult to do with professional musicians and nearly impossible to do with kids who go to school and play sports and adults who have jobs and kids. From the many conversations I’ve had, however, it seems to me that keeping a band together for an extended period of time is one of the top priorities for some of the kids and a surprisingly large amount of parents. I don’t want to be a buzzkill, but these people – as wonderful, smart, and thoughtful as they are – are setting themselves up for failure due to the retention of a virtually impossible goal.

I could go on to draw a correlation between the personnel turnaround in our bands and any sports team in the world or the personnel turnaround at the company where you work and ask you how you expect a band of hobbyists to keep it together ad infinitum, but I think I’d rather take a more positive approach instead and ruminate about Eric Clapton.

I’m sure the vast majority of people reading this know who Eric Clapton is. He is a legend in rock ‘n’ roll, blues, and guitar circuits. He is considered by most guitar aficionados to be one of the best rock guitar players of all time. He’s hung out with Jimi Hendrix and The Beatles and they were big fans of Clapton. In fact, Clapton has had such a prolific career that he has been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame three times!!! That fact is the true source of this meditation.

No one else has been inducted as many or more times as Clapton. In order to be inducted that many times, he’s had to have been a member of at least three extremely successful and/or influential bands. For Clapton, three bands is nothing. Looking at the list of bands he’s been a member of, you might think he could go through three bands before breakfast. In fact, in the eight years from 1963-1970 Eric Clapton was actually a member of 8 different bands! Count ‘em: The Roosters, The Yardbirds, The Bluesbreakers, Cream, Blind Faith, Dalaney and Bonnie and Friends, Derek and the Dominos, and another band as a solo artist. The Yardbirds, Cream, and Eric Clapton as a solo artist are now in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. In that time, and since, Clapton has played and recorded with numerous acts such as George Harrison and John Lennon, but I think you get the idea by now, so I’ll digress.

Eric Clapton has been in a lot of bands. He could have gotten frustrated about not staying together with one of these bands and quit but he didn’t. Instead he led most of these bands to success and made the most of every opportunity he had to play. That’s the point I’m trying to make here.

Whether or not you decide you want to be in the rock ‘n’ roll hall of fame is up to you, but as long as we’re dealing with people who possess the freedom to do what they want and the desire to exercise that right, neither you nor I can force any band member to stay in any band. I think it’s safe to conclude from the data gathered here that if one’s glass is half-empty, one would probably notice that one’s Rockology band might not last more than one quarter. If one’s glass is half-full, I’m sure one would be delighted to find out that one’s Rockology band is going to be together for at least three months and one would get to play a gig with these people. You are a free person, so you get to decide which of those two options works best for you.

How To Get Along

Since it’s a subject that comes up time and time again at Dace’s Rock ‘n’ More Music Academy, I think we should have a great conversation about it and I’d like to start the conversation by communicating to you what my thoughts are on this very complex, and not always fun, subject. Notice this blog is quite lengthy. It’s only the tip of the iceberg. Just the fundamentals of my “getting along” philosophy. If I keep writing about this topic, I may end up with a book. As with any well communicated conversation, I would love to listen to your thoughts on the subject so please feel free to respond.

The truth is that getting along is really complicated. In one my previous blogs, titled “The Greatest Band in the World Cuts a Record”, I mentioned several legendary bands that couldn’t keep it together. The rift between John Lennon and Paul McCartney of The Beatles is legendary. Aerosmith broke up in the early 80s only to get back together a couple years later and now, twenty odd years after that, Joe Perry and Steven Tyler of Aerosmith are currently bad-mouthing each other in public. Even the one band I could think of that has kept its members in tact the longest –U2- has had its share of knock-down-drag-outs. The point here being; if anybody in your band is having difficulties getting along with anybody else in your band, then you are in good company. Congratulations!

Quite often, when dealing with creative types, rational thinking and reasoning jump hand-in-hand out the back window when the ugly heads of emotion knock on the front door. With musicians, sometimes keeping the band together can get really complicated. Sometimes to the point where they can’t see why they should even keep trying. Because of its complicatiativity, (kom-pluh-kay-sha-tih-vih-tee) I think the title we should use to get ourselves in the right frame of mind for this conversation is:

The Process Through Which a Musical Group Productively Journeys In Order To Achieve a Unanimously Satisfying End.

I feel a little better already. Now that we’re all in the correct frame of mind for this subject –that is, one in which we accept unnecessarily complicated and not necessarily helpful or correct advice- let’s begin…

In order to draw you a full-color, 11 x 17 poster hung up on a Seattle telephone pole of the topic at hand, I’d like you to meet my friend Norm. Norm is a guitar player for the local grunge band “Norm and the Stormin’”. All through middle school and high school Norm played his guitar every chance he got. He idolized his heroes who were/are great, legendary guitar players and, as any adolescent kid is wont to do, Norm modeled his own personal behavior after what he believed was the behavior of those guitars players that influenced his playing.

Although Norm truly loved the hard rock, blues, and heavy metal music of his heroes, he also kinda’ had an ear for some other types of music too. Types of music that the other dudes in his band didn’t think were too cool. You see, the other dudes in the band had had similar musical upbringings as Norm. They all had their own heroes in various rock ‘n’ roll subgenres and they also modeled much of their behavior on what they believed was the behavior of the musicians they idolized.

The problem with modeling your behavior after what you see in other people is that you’re not getting the whole picture. Norm’s favorite guitar players looked really cool on stage and talked about stuff that was cool but that was all he knew of them. Norm and the other guys in the band only saw one dimension of their heroes’ lives, and in modeling their own behavior after what they saw, created rather one-dimensional lives for themselves. In fact, Norm and the Stormin’ is part of an entire community of like-minded individuals who pattern their own character after their perception of their musical heroes’ lives. They are a tight-knit group of musicians and music lovers who think that pop music is the work of evil because the singers sometimes lip sync in concert and often don’t write the songs they sing. This particular group of musicians and music lovers, within which Norm and his band run, believe that in order for music to be respectable it must have been written, recorded, and performed by the people in the band. Unless, of course, they are paying tribute to one of their heroes’ bands, like when Aerosmith covered The Beatles or when Zeppelin ripped off those old blues songs.

One day while Norm was stopped at a stop light in his really cool panel van that he used to haul his gear and his band to and fro gigs, his whole head turned red when he realized that he had been singing along with Miss LaLa’s “Adoration Match”, which was being played on the radio for what seemed like the bojillionth time that day. The song got so much airplay that you couldn’t get away from it. Norm knew every word of that song even though he would reluctantly turn the station every time he heard it. He couldn’t admit to himself that he liked the song. This is a song which his friends and band mates would not approve. Norm was quite confused about it, too. He was a dude who liked metal and other awesome, guitar music. It just didn’t make sense that he could also like pop music. Norm had a reputation to uphold so he never admitted to himself or to his band mates that even though he still was a really cool guitar playing metal head, he liked pop music too. He found the fast, pulsing beats to be exhilarating and yet, rather guilt inducing.

It’s easy to see by reading Norm’s story that Norm is setting himself up for sadness by closing down a whole department of his personality. People are not like what you see on TV, on stage, in pictures, or in the movies, ever. In order for the story to get across in the short period of time that the viewers or listeners have to give them, characters in the entertainment field have to be one-dimensional. There is simply not enough time to get into every character’s back-story. In old westerns you knew who the bad guy was because he was the guy in the black hat. That made it easy for the viewers/listeners to figure out who the Lone Ranger was going to get.

In real life you are allowed to be as complex as you want. Even if all your friends think that Miss LaLa is horrible, you can love her music and still hang out with your friends. If your friends don’t want to hang out with you because of something as small as the music you listen to, you probably shouldn’t be friends with them at all. I know you’ve heard your parents say that a million times, but, let’s face it, it makes sense. There is no reason for you to be unhappy. If you have to hide the things that make you happy from your friends, then you should have different friends.

Here is a little step-by-step procedure that I’ve come up with that I feel would have saved Norm some grief and caused him to be a happier, more fulfilled rocker. Feel free to integrate some of these ideas into your own musical journey.

1.       You need to know what you want.

Lots of people want lots of different things. It doesn’t matter what you want as long as you know what you want. It also doesn’t matter what other people want. We’re talking about what it is that you want. You get to be as selfish as you want with this one. We’re not taking any action, we’re just figuring out what we want. A lot of people, like Norm, have a tendency to “see” themselves as a certain type of person and sometimes what that person wants in life and/or in a band is inconsistent with that image they have created of themselves. That’s why it sometimes takes a lot of courage to admit to yourself what it is that you actually want. For instance, you can probably imagine that it might take a lot of courage for a guitar player in a grunge band to admit to himself that he loves the song “Adoration Match” by Miss LaLa.

2.       You need to clearly communicate what is that you want.

Nobody can know what you want unless you tell them. Sometimes it takes a lot of courage to say what you want. If you are a guitar player in a grunge band and you really want to play “Affection Match” by Miss LaLa but you don’t mention it to your band mates because you think they’ll make fun of you then you shouldn’t get mad at anyone but yourself when they decide to write a song called “We All Hate ‘Adoration Match’ by Miss LaLa”. Once you’ve mustered up the courage to tell yourself of your infatuation with Miss LaLa, you now should move on to the next level of courageousness which is to express yourself in that manner. Norm should tell his band mates that he loves Miss LaLa and that he wants to do a cover of “Adoration Match” and that he also wants to incorporate more aspects of pop music –such as electronic beats and synthesizers- into his band’s grunge music.

3.       If there are people involved with contradictory goals to yours, move on.

If the other dudes in Norm’s band think that’s a stupid idea, Norm will have some thinking to do. Does this mean that his band will never play any of the pop music that up until recently Norm was not willing to divulge he loved, even to himself? If so, this might be a good time for Norm to find some other folks to play with; some folks that love fast guitars and pop music. Being with a group of people with more similar, or congruent, goals will make for a happier, more satisfying musical experience.

4.       Once you find people with a congruent set of goals as you, set in motion that pragmatic series of steps that will allow you to systematically achieve those goals.

In other words, full speed ahead. A group of people with a singular goal and the drive, ability, persistence, courage, and tools to achieve that goal, will achieve that goal. Luck is what you make of it.

If Norm finds that his band mates also secretly like pop music and want to add elements of that genre into their music, then Norm is set to go. If, on the other hand, he finds that his band thinks he’s a dork and ostracize Norm for liking Miss LaLa’s music, Norm is going to move on to greener pastures. He’s going to find people who have the same goals as him and, although it may take a while to get there, he’s going to be happy and fulfilled by the knowledge that he stayed true to himself and stuck to his guns long enough to find the people with whom he could build a future.

Are your eyes beginning to tear up yet?

Think about that for a while and I’ll tell you how that may apply to the Rockology class where you are stuck with a set of musicians –like them or not- for three months at a time.

When I started playing gigs I thought it was cool to go on stage in t-shirt and jeans. I didn’t want to dress up in spandex and makeup or some sort of costume like a lot of the bands on MTV. My favorite bands went up onstage wearing the same thing they were wearing during lunch.

Fast forward a few years and I’ve realized that the t-shirts and jeans that Metallica, Pearl Jam, and Soundgarden were wearing were costumes. It’s all part of the image. The image of those bands is that they don’t have an image and that attracts people who think that bands shouldn’t have an image. Sounds twisted, huh? Twisted or not, the world of entertainment is all a mirage. Once I really got that into my head, I stopped taking myself so seriously and had some fun instead.

So now the rule of thumb I tell my Rockology students to use is to look different than the audience. Make sure that people can tell you’re a performer and not just a face in the crowd. Over the years we’ve had bands that have dressed in themes like when all the members of Sumo Nightclub wore suit jackets or when The Fire Extinguishers all wore firemen’s helmets. I’ve noticed a bit of eyeliner on a few dudes besides me. Sunglasses, kilts, furry jackets, crazy hats, formal wear, and even hot pants (by that I mean Doug Geiger in his flame-print pajamas) and loafers have all taken turns onstage at Rockcitals.

In my band, Sealth, we become caricatures of ourselves onstage. Anything we do offstage we do times 10 onstage. Why? Because when you play music in public, you are generally trying to get peoples’ attention and make them experience something beyond just the sound of the band. By the time you’ve put together a band and started playing gigs, you’ve hopefully got the music down, but if all you had to give to the audience was music, why wouldn’t they stay home and listen to their iPods? Music is pretty much free these days, and really easy to get. If people are getting up and leaving their homes, sans iPod, to go see you perform, you should be flattered and work to make it worth their while. Therefore, a live show has to be about more than just the music, it’s also got to be about the experience. At a Madonna show, it’s about the dancing and costume changes. At a Metallica show, it’s about headbanging, moshing, fist-pumping, and other manly things. Besides the music, why should people come to see your band? What kind of one-of-a-kind, personal experience are you going to give to your audience?

There are elements of movement and emotion that should certainly be part of your live repertoire and we’ll get into those topics in the future. Cool explosions and drum risers that go upside down over the audience and huge laser shows may be cost-prohibitive for your band right now so we’ll talk about those way later. First off, try being creative with the way you present yourself visually. Become a caricature of yourself. Have some fun. Here’s the equation (Me + fun) × 10 = me onstage. Good luck

I think that the worst piece of advice any musician/performer could take is the one where someone tells you that you are the star of the band, and/or the other guys are no good, and/or you could do better on your own or with another group of musicians/performers, and/or those other guys are holding you back. I’ve been a musician/performer for a really long time and I will tell you that beyond a shadow of a doubt that EVERYONE else in your band has heard the same advice and that EVERYONE else in your band has decided to stick with you anyway. Take that into consideration before leaving for your solo project.

From left; Me, Scott

Quick. Name three bands that have been together for more than five years and have never had any lineup changes.

Did you get past U2? Remember when Stu Sutcliffe and Pete Best were in The Beatles? Pearl Jam had at least four drummers come and go before Matt Cameron joined about ten years ago. The Red Hot Chili Peppers have had roughly 15 kajillion guitar players in their band.

The moral of the story being that it is a good idea to be together with people who share the same ambitions as you. Yet, even if you do, humans have a horrible habit of changing through time, so you can never tell for sure how long your band is going last; even if you try really hard.

Speaking of hard, learning morals and thinking about stuff is hard. Let’s stop thinking and start reading about the ultimate demise of my first band, D-Day.

Chapter IV

The Greatest Band in the World Cuts a Record

In April of ’94 we managed to pool together enough dough to make an album. After about two years of rehearsing three hours a day five days a week, it only took us two days to record our first album consisting of our nine finest original metal songs. We were planning to do 6 but, by that time we were so tight we had time for three more. We knew we had a winner of a record with tunes like “Black Cat Minded” (a song about being a stalker), “Chasing the Blade” (about war), and “Shuttle Driver” (about being a shuttle driver).

Hear “Shuttle Driver” and “Chasing the Blade” here www.myspace.com/daceanderson  

It sold somewhere in the neighborhood of 50 copies. It likely could have sold more but that spring and summer Darren and Hans decided to not like each other any more so the band broke up one night.

Three years of hard work down the drain due to one dude’s opinion of how things should be. It had nothing to do with me. Darren just said “on to the next” and took his stuff. I couldn’t do anything about it. I thought it sucked that the band fell apart so easily after all that time.

Anti-climactic, eh? That’s what I thought.

Now what do I do?

Last Sunday my band, Sealth, played a show at Studio 7 as an opening act for a band called Divide the Day. Divide the Day is on Universal Republic Records. The same record company as Colbie Caillat, Mika, and Tori Amos. One of their songs is the theme song for WWE’s Friday Night Smackdown. They get thousands of plays on their MySpace page every day. Sounds pretty good, huh? My band, Sealth, played in front of about 40 people. Divide the Day played in front of about a dozen.

About two months ago I saw Pearl Jam play in front of 15,000 on a Monday night. (That’s a school night you know.)

After a bazillion years of playing and studying music, I still have no idea how to get from here to there.

Here’s more of the story of my first band, D-Day, dealing with the same confusion.

Chapter III

Nowhere to Go But Up For the Greatest Band Ever

We averaged 1 or 2 gigs a month for the next 6 months or so. Over that time we made a total of about $221.23. We figured that the greatest band ever doesn’t play other peoples’ songs so we didn’t play other peoples’ songs and didn’t take any of those lucrative cover band gigs.

Most of that fat wad was made at just one gig. We opened for Woodstock performer Leslie West at The Legendary Ballard Firehouse. Don’t look for it, it’s not there anymore. We had to buy 75 tickets up front and sell them in order to make our money. We had become salesmen for one of the sleaziest clubs in Seattle as well as the most hated booking agent in all of Seattle, John Baptiste. As far as I know, he’s either dead or still booking places in Seattle to this day and, believe it or not, through all these years I have never met him face to face. In my mind I get a picture of a Jabba the Hut type of creature sitting in some dark room barking orders and making peoples’ lives miserable. 

By the way, we did end up selling the tickets and making a bit of dough. Chalk one up for D-Day!

We got to play for about 200 people that night. This was the largest crowd we had played yet by about 175 people. The headlining act had set up and done their sound check earlier that day so we had to set up our stuff in front of theirs. They had so much equipment that I was left with literally 4 square feet of stage on which to rock. One false move and I would fall off the stage or destroy thousands of dollars worth of musical equipment that wasn’t mine, or both. -Please don’t let it be both!- At one point when I was plugging in my amp my head accidentally nudged a stack of  4 expensive Marshall amps that were precariously perched upon the precipice of the stage. Three sloooooow-motion sways and one heart attack later the amps decided not to ruin my night by falling.

Sound check? Yeah, they got one. Us? No way. We weren’t allowed to make a sound until the lights went down and our show started. The monitors sucked, I couldn’t hear my guitar solos, I thought I made too many mistakes, people were there to watch us, we got paid $150 for the gig, brought our equipment in our own cars so we didn’t have to pay for a moving van, and I was going to bed at 3 a.m. on a school night. Things were looking up.

After playing we waited to watch Leslie West play. We were excited to have opened for the guy who wrote “Mississippi Queen” and figured that he had seen our awesome show and would take us on the rest of his tour. I was ready to quit school and hit the big-time. Finally, my big break at the ripe old age of 19. (Yes, I was sitting in a bar in Seattle at age 19, doing my best to be as inconspicuous as possible). As fate would have it, though, he didn’t pull up in his limo until about two minutes before he went on which was about an hour after we were done.

He cut a defiant swath through the clamoring masses wearing what could only be described as a leftover from a Paul Revere and the Raiders garage sale while waving off autograph seeking fans and blowing off members of the band that so generously opened the show for him. His hair was thin and hair sprayed up high. More scalp was visible than hair and he held in his age-ravaged hands a headless mostly bodiless Steinberger guitar. Just like Eddie Van Halen played on their live video! Awesome!

Have you ever noticed that you’ve never seen Leslie West and Dale Chihuly at the same place at the same time?

His show was so loud that it made my hearing distort so I left.

So this wasn’t my big break, but with things going the way they were, fame was surely just around the corner. What we needed was to be heard by the masses. We needed an album!

When I was eight years old, I got an acoustic guitar for Christmas. Somewhere there is a Polaroid picture of an eight year old me holding that guitar next to a Christmas tree making the first of what would become a lifetime of innumerable rock poses. The brow is furrowed, the lips pursed, the neck of the guitar is pointed towards heaven.

By February I had quit.

Twenty something years later I’m the Founder of Dace’s Rock ‘n’ More Music Academy, I’ve been a professional guitar teacher for almost a decade, I’ve performed thousands of times, and I’m still doing silly looking rock poses almost daily. The things that happened while travelling from there to here provide the content for the advice, anecdotes, and fables on which I base my teaching philosophy. While I don’t like to cram these things down people’s throats, I do sometimes find that a well-placed piece of advice from a guy who may have gone through something through which you are currently going may be of some use. I like to gather data before making decisions. I consider the advice I give my students to be just some data to help them make their own decisions.

For instance; a few years back I noticed a trend amongst several of my Rockology students. (At Rock ‘n’ More we have a class called “Rockology” where we put bands together and put on a show every three months). These students were complaining about the poor sound quality and lack of seating at the venues we were playing. Some were upset enough that they were thinking about quitting the class. Some actually quit.

I had a hard time wrapping my head around why they were complaining. Weren’t they happy to just have a gig at a real live rock club in front of a bunch of people? It caused me to think back to my first gigs and the toil, back-break, and heart-break involved in booking my first few shows. I realized then that my students didn’t share the same perspective as me because they had never had the opportunity to deal with the countless phone calls and dead ends that invariably hamper virtually all musicians trying to book their first gig.

I may have wanted to quit for a moment then too, but instead I decided that perhaps they could find some benefit from knowing a little about my first band “D-Day” and our first gig.

Chapter II

Getting Gigs for the Greatest Band Ever

“Hey, thanks for answering my call. My name is Dace and I’m in a new band called D-Day” (click).

Getting gigs is hard. Somehow, though, after months of begging and annoying people every day every place in the city, we got a gig. Sweet! Wednesday night at the Blue China… Bistro? something… maybe?, I don’t remember now. It’s not there anymore.

We went on second and during our second song in front of at least 5 or 6 people, the singer from one of the other bands throws a pint glass at our singer from the back of the room. Shatters all over his chest. Fortunately, the only injuries to report were those to our egos.

Besides the glass incident, my awesome Peavey stack is too tall to fit on the stage under the lights. I could only use one of my two 4×12 (4 12 inch speakers) speaker cabinets. Even with just half of it I find out that I can’t turn the beast up to 10 like I thought would be necessary. I bought the most powerful amp I could find so that I could be as loud as Van Halen. Now I can only go to 2?! This isn’t rock’n'roll!

Turns out we may have rented a bit more truck than we needed to haul our gear to the event. We spent about $70 renting a moving van that could have easily hauled our equipment and everything else we owned. Because of all the extra space, Bill and I decided to ride in the back with the gear so that it wouldn’t get tossed around and broken. (Did I mention that both Bill and I were in college by then?)

The monitors sucked, I couldn’t hear my guitar solos, I thought I made too many mistakes, nobody was there to watch us, we got paid $0 for the gig, paid $70 for the truck, and I was going to bed at 3 a.m. on a school night.

I’m sure this is how Zeppelin started.

With our heads held high in heavy metal defiance we vowed that next time we’ll really rock Seattle!

 

from left, that’s me, Hans, and Darren

I started playing guitar seriously when I was 14 years old. I practiced on average 5-8 hours a day (depending on how much homework I had) for the first 2 years I played. I tried lessons but thought they were slow and boring.

I finally decided I was good enough to be in a band at the age of 16 or so and proceeded to look for the group of musicians with whom I would most undoubtedly share future untold wealth and glory. I couldn’t find the right kids to play with at school though. The year was 1991. Irreverence, angst, and apathy were all the rage and I had none. I was more into Van Halen and other bands with awesome guitar players. I did love Pearl Jam and Alice In Chains though. They had great guitar playing mixed in with the irreverence, angst, and apathy unlike the one Seattle band that all the other bands wanted to be like whose name starts with an “N” and ends with an “irvana”. Therefore I had to look outside the hallowed halls of Bellevue High for the musicians that would surely ride with me on the road to fame and fortune.

Almost every week for the next year and a half I placed ads in local magazines like The Rocket, The Stranger, and Seattle Weekly looking for kids like me. After dozens of auditions and jam sessions everywhere from Everett to Olympia, West Seattle to North Bend, I finally found a kindred spirit in one Hans Kuester from just across town. 6 foot 4, 230 pounds. More drums and hair than I’d ever seen before in my life. And a place to practice. Finally I’m on my way!

We continued looking for the rest of our soon-to-be super group together as a team. Just a month later (after several American Idol-like singer auditions) we found one Darren Day. He was older than us and had much more experience. He could help us get gigs. Awesome! The pieces to the puzzle were coming together at last.

All we needed was a bass player and then we -the newly minted metal band “D-Day”- would be free to take over the musical universe. Three young metal studs poised to reinvent the world of music. Hey, it was 1993 and we were from Seattle. How could we not make it?

Finding a good bass player is hard. While looking for a bass player we even accidentally found a second guitarist named Bill Peters. Long hair, fast fingers, our age; more ammo for our musical weaponry. Well, a year and a half, 2 hired, and then fired bassists (one actually just disappeared), 12 billion ads, and a bazillion crappy bass player auditions later we finally found a guy named Scott. Good enough. Are we ready to rock yet?