ROCK N’ ROLL ZERO: THE BIG TIME – Part 1

It was on some generally unspecified sunny day in late-May somewhere close to the turn of the century. I was attending a BBQ hosted by some friends of mine. It had been a couple of years since my former punk band stalled and fizzled; a victim of it’s own inertia, having spent the prior 5 years exhausting our reserves of beer-fueled mayhem amid the sundry dives, clubs and other proverbial darkened rooms across the West Coast.

I hadn’t touched my bass in well over a year, certainly a record level of abstinence at that point in my life. Rather, I was using this time to focus on my career which had recently begun to take off in an earnest and very promising fashion. I had recently started graduate school while also working in my first corporate management role. Moreover, me and my girlfriend at the time had recently rented a house and moved in together. It’s fair to say that I certainly had a good number of demands on my time.

I wasn’t really looking to get involved in another music project, although I knew I’d play again at some point in the future.

BIG TIME

At the BBQ, a musician buddy of mine, who I’d not seen in some time, approached me and we started the usual chit-chat of catching up with each other’s lives. During the conversation, he let me know that a friend of his had contacted him inquiring if he knew of any available bassists. It turns out, a well known, “Big Band” was surreptitiously looking to find a new bass player and had put some initial feelers out.

I’ll pause here to qualify “Big Band.” Let’s consider them a giant fish in a medium-sized pond. They were firmly established in the U.S and UK, had records out and even had a minor hit. Most importantly, I had been a long-time fan and loved the music. No, it was not the Rolling Stones, but it was a respected, signed independent act.

The opportunity to audition was definitely intriguing, but I knew I had a lot on my plate already. My buddy continued to cajole me saying, “You should try out, or at least talk to them and see where it goes. Even if you don’t get asked to join, you’ll always have the memory of jamming with one of your favorite bands. And even if you do get asked, you can always say ‘No’.” I told him I’d contemplate it, but had already committed that I’d give it a shot. There was, literally, nothing to lose by doing so and it would be an experience of a lifetime.

I was a trifle cagey about sharing this with my girlfriend due largely to the fact that, while supportive of my prior musical endeavors, she was, at the time, very much focused on all-things domestic: setting up our home, deepening our relationship, marriage, etc. As I suspected, when I let her know of the opportunity, she was less than thrilled. She perceived it as a potential distraction, an unnecessary commitment among many others. To be fair, what with an exacting workload with the job and grad school, she was right.

Nevertheless, it was only a few days later when I got in touch with my buddy and let him know to tell his friend that the band was welcome to reach out to me and that I was eager and excited to talk to them. As rock n’ roll etiquette dictates, it was a couple of weeks before I got a call from the band’s guitar player. We had a rather pleasant conversation. While we’d never met, we traveled in the same circles, had more than a few mutual friends and had both been ensconced in the LA music scene over the past 10 years or so.

It was akin to the typical phone interview for any job anywhere – just to suss out if the candidate is minimally qualified and, more importantly, if they might be a good fit from an interpersonal perspective. After an hour or so, he said, he’d be interested in meeting and that I should expect a call from the Singer/Bandleader in a couple of weeks.

Flash forward and I get the call from the Singer/Bandleader. It was a similar conversation, but a bit more intensified since he was a well-known personality and, frankly, as a long-time fan of the band, I was more than a little nervous. While not nearly as convivial as the guitarist, I was still able to work my charm. He seemed to like the fact that I was a fan, owned all their music and had seen them play many, many times.

As expected, he asked the obvious question, “How well do you play?” I hit him with my quasi-humorous, yet entirely accurate response, “Not as good as Geddy Lee, but way better than Sid Vicious.” That got a good chuckle and from there he said he’d send me some new tracks that the band was working on and we set up a time to audition.

I can’t lie – I was pretty damn excited about the opportunity. My girlfriend? Not so much. I was, however, reasonably certain, that I had no real chance of landing the gig. It just seemed far too improbable. Kind of like Mark Wahlberg’s character, Chris Cole, in the movie “Rock Star” joining his favorite band, Steel Dragon, after fronting a tribute band. That said, I did practice my ass off and took great pains to learn all 3 album’s worth of material as well as the 4 new tracks. If nothing else, I was determined not to humiliate myself.

THE AUDITION

As a lifelong musician and scholar of rock, I’ve always been fascinated with the inner workings of bands. I’ll read any book about any band, even those I don’t care for, simply to get a glimpse into how they have set themselves up and, more intriguing, how they operate. I’ve found that it’s a) always slightly different and b) always superlatively interesting.

This also extends to how bands write music and how they practice. What I’ve found is that, unlike Metallica who rent a hanger in the Presidio, or Guns N’ Roses who retain an entire studio for years at a crack, most bands have small, unassuming and dingy quarters that seem to promote a peculiar alchemy and nurture sonic magic.

As was the case with “Big Band.” I was given the address and told to show up for my audition, again in typical rock fashion, at 12am. On a Tuesday. Because when you’re a loved and cherished indie rock band, every day’s Saturday, baby! I want to say I was surprised, but, in all honesty, I really wasn’t that the rehearsal location was in a dilapidated, bombed-out, barely-standing building deep in the “Hooker Zone” of Santa Monica Blvd. in Hollywood.

I pulled into the sketchy lot, devoid of any illumination whatsoever, entered the code on the keypad and the gates of my musical future opened wide as I parked my car and proceeded to unload my gear.

After knocking on the door, I was let in the small but ample practice space. I’ll pause again and ask you to imagine how you think you would feel if you were about to walk into a room to play music with one of your all-time favorite bands? It was such an overwhelming and electrifying feeling. A veritable smorgasbord of emotion; an adrenaline rush unlike no other.

I introduced myself and began to set up. It was only the guitarist with whom I’d initially spoke, the drummer, and the keyboardist. I inquired if the singer was going to make it and after some poorly concealed rolling of eyes, I was told that he’d be here, but that punctuality was not necessarily his strongest attribute.

I was extremely grateful of the guitar player who put me at ease and pulled me aside to ask how I felt about the songs and let me know that many of them were being played differently than the recorded versions. He then helped me get up to speed with the new arrangements. This, however, was a very unpleasant surprise in that I’d already “programmed” the songs in my head and I do very poorly with last-minute change or outright improvisation. So much for not making a fool of myself. Nevertheless, I appreciated the assistance and it was clear we had an immediate chemistry.

All the while, the clock continued to tick its tocks and it was now approaching 1am when, at last I heard the door opening. Amid an unforgettably oppressive, fantastic miasma of patchouli oil and pot, in struts le Lead Singer & Bandleader dressed to the nines, looking about as rock n’ roll as one can possibly get. With wife in tow. It, truly, was as hilarious as it was mesmeric.

I introduce myself and we shake hands and make a bit of small talk, while, in the periphery of my vision, I see his wife bust out a guitar and begin setting up. This was definitely a personnel development that was not disclosed, but okay. I’m here to rock, so let’s bring it.

Singer shows me a set list and says the band will be rehearsing 14 songs, but I only need to play on the initial 6. 3 of the new ones and 3 from the last album (2 of which are ones that have altered arrangements, of course). “Let’s go,” he says as Keyboardist starts the backing loop. 19 seconds later, Drummer clicks us in.

1. 2. 3. 4…

As I sit here now writing this, the entire swirl of emotion and memories envelop me – as if my mind made a perfect recording of that moment, which, of course, it did. Here I was, rocking out with one of my favorite bands in the wee hours of a Wednesday morning somewhere in the bowels of Hollywood. It was a colossal display of self-restraint on my part to suppress the idiotic ear-to-ear grin that was clamoring to make its way on to my face, while the glorious music washed over me and I played like I never had before.

What seemed a lifetime, was only about 30 minutes and my audition had began and ended. “Okay, pretty good,” exclaimed Singer in a very neutral, noncommittal fashion. I look over at Guitarist who nods while I take off my bass and begin the process of packing up. “Hey, why don’t you stick around and hang out with us for a while?” says Singer.

Little did I know at the time, but more inauspicious words had never been spoken.

WHAT’S NEXT?

Does the Rock N’ Roll Zero get the gig? What then? Tune in for Part 2 of this series to learn the answer and hear some more wild and wacky adventures in the rock n’ roll “Big Time!”