Reggae Bar Grooves

A month has gone by and my involvement with the band has been advanced to official roadie. As of the first Friday of this month, they took over a spot that Johnny Horn and The Rhythm Session, who had played with them at the club gig in August , had decided to vacate. Every Friday night up in a district that was entirely populated by a nearby state university.
I was kind of amazed as to how the connections kept rolling in for this band. Lynval is a man with his hand in every cookie jar. It truly is who you know in this sort of business. Having a man of experience on their side would save them all years of struggling, I figured. Chela had been on her own for about a year when they decided to form a band in order to further her career. Having only been playing together since April, already they had grown into a whole project all their own and now had a permanent Friday night gig that they didn’t have to share with any one else.
On the night of this official Friday kick-off I wanted to check out a new place. After my back stage access from the show in August, the wheels in my mind had gotten to turning. Where ever they had a gig at, I would have the chance to check out all sorts of places in the city that I wouldn’t normally have a reason to visit. What a great way to expand my knowledge! I’m always getting phone calls and emails from friends that want to know good places to hang out or just get the update on what was happening in the city. Besides what I knew of clubs, this would be a whole new area, live music, which I could possibly get to know better.
Completely willing to haul gear for the chance to hang out again, I was surprised to roll up to a place I that I did know, but only from the outside. Back in my freshman year of college Nicole and I use to drive all the way north to an ice cream shop that was farther down the Avenue. Parking was always insane around this area which meant we’d have to hike in and out for our tasty treat. Where we got use to parking led us right by this bar just about every time. The best feature was that the wall facing the street had a huge window that rolled up letting the outside in and the music out. It was a great way to pull people in from off the street. Nicole and I were both under twenty-one at the time, but when they had good bands we’d always stop and listen at the open window.
Load-in was what I thought, kind of early. Eight-thirty was when the bar took down the dining tables from the stage area and made room for the band. The show still didn’t start till ten-thirty or later depending on the crowd flow within. With all that time to wander about I really got worried about a repeat performance from the bouncer that would leave Cale spending EVERY Friday night in his truck pissed off. I turned into a nagging mother really quick by reminding him constantly of the consequences any of his actions could have. This gig was indefinite, the last thing he needed was to be discovered at any point! What I have learned since then, and this has been true for any of the places they’ve played at so far, is that if you’re carrying musical gear and walk in like you own the place you won’t ever get carded. But for my defense, its better safe that stuck in your truck angry at the world.
Even though I felt like eight-thirty at night was an early time to be showing up, this was the main drag of food places and bars for the local area. Parking is just a nightmare. Eight-thirty was just early enough to get close parking before it got totally crazy. This also meant you were stuck for the night. Once you found that prime parking spot, anything else you had to do in the meantime was best done through whatever the Ave. had to offer. On the first night Cale and I headed out to the bar, we completely missed that there was a loading zone right in front and ended up parking a block away that was also up the hill. The hand-truck ended up being more trouble than it was worth for moving his stuff down the steep decline. Once we got it all down to the bar, it was then handed up through the open window in the front. That was some heavy stuff to be lifting practically over your head. After that night we got clued in to the loading zone and life became a lot more routine. We never used the hand-truck again, moving it all by hand just ended up being quicker in the long run. I like the fact that Cale and I have the loading of the truck from his apartment and the unloading into a venue down to a science already. That has made me feel like a real help and not just in the away. It was bad enough that I was his boss at work and now I was tagging along to his other job. I didn’t want to take away from any fun he should be having.
My helpfulness didn’t stay completely reserved to Cale’s gear. Even though the rest of them were joking about me being his personal roadie, I totally jumped in to help J.C. and Leo when they would roll up. A drum kit is comprised of a lot of little packages that take up more space than the actual kit. Both guys were glad to have my help and quickly learned I wasn’t the sort of woman that wanted to be handed the “light, easy” stuff. I did have to admit defeat the time I tried to help J.C. haul in one of his keyboard cases. The thing was a beast and the tie-down straps that J.C. had winched over the case to make handles just cut right through my hand. Even with that public admission of weakness it didn’t change the way they treated me. I was capable of hauling everything else. Already I knew these two were guys I could grow to like.
Georgetown was always the first to show up to every show. The guys in the band had to set up their instruments and with that sometimes came the primary sound check. More often than not, they would all set the stage with their gear and then immediately disperse in the search for dinner or a cup of coffee to get them through the night. The weather was still warm enough to be walking around without a coat and hanging outside talking to people passing by turned into a sort of social promotional hour.
This was also time for Cale to hang with his boys and chat. It took me a bit to join in. I didn’t want to be thought of as some hanger on. Being thought of as an extension of someone else just drives me nuts. Being the “friend”, the “girlfriend”, the “groupie”, or any other label that suddenly defines someone as less than interesting is something that makes me walk out of conversations, crowded rooms, or any other terrible social situation. I have a name and a personality. Either get to know me or forget it. After I started helping with set up I pretty much became the unofficial seventh member of the band after John the manager.
With hunger sated and a few cute girls whistled at, in the boys would troop like a gang and onto the stage they’d head to make some noise for the sound guy. The two regular sound guys are absolute characters. These guys just seemed to add to the whole atmosphere of the gig. Singe and Happy were in control of what the band sounded like. But as I soon learned, this band had the habit of being so loud that no one behind the board really had any sort of control over their sound within the room. Singe was the man most often there. He was what Cale, who had gone to collage to be an audio tech, called a stereotypical sound geek. A man in his early forties, he had the social skills of someone’s grandfather. He’d nail anyone down for the chance to tell a story, but didn’t seem bothered if you weren’t listening. An average sort of working man dressed in flannel and torn jeans most of the time, he had his own little quirky way of setting up microphones and cable while the band set up their instruments at the same time.
Happy was the exact opposite. Very quiet by nature, the man would keep to himself mostly, stringing cable and setting up the stage like he wasn’t even there. Long hair and beard, he seemed like a very serine Grizzly Adams sort of guy, a smile always on his face. It was very obvious that he enjoyed the band. Even on nights that Singe was working, Happy would roll in, dressed more like a Hobo than anything else; just to listen for a little while. Then he was gone again.
After sound check Georgetown would disperse again. The drink tickets would magically appear about this time which then directed J.C. and Leo to the bar, with Lynval close behind. As for Cale’s share of the drink tickets, it wasn’t long before they were being given straight to me. I had to feel bad since I wasn’t in the band and I was getting his perks. Just because he shouldn’t be using them, didn’t mean I should be the one to take them all away from him. I started saving them pretty much from the start. I noticed right away that the ticket never changed, so as time went on I figured, I could use them if I wanted or should the time roll around, Cale could use them as well. The gig was indefinite after all. That’s not to say that Cale never drank. One of the guys in the band (or Chela) would feel bad and some how or another there was at least one drink a night donated to the cause. I wasn’t about to participate in that. I’m such a square when it comes to rules of that nature. But then again he was working just as hard as the rest of the band, I kind of felt bad that he couldn’t kick back with the rest of us. How arbitrary is the age of twenty-one? I go back and forth on that argument.
This had really been the life, rolling around with the band. Twenty minutes of hard work at the start and end of the night and the rest was left to me to enjoy, usually with the same benefits as the band. No cover to see the show and drinking for free with ticket cast offs from Cale’s share. The whole thing appealed to all of my needs. I was being useful, not spending money, meeting all sorts of people, and dancing. I couldn’t ask for a better situation.
The show didn’t start until eleven o’clock and nothing more music wise could be done until Chela showed up. She was always the last one to arrive, but then again the only thing she had to load in was a wireless microphone and receiver. All of that got dealt with during the final sound check. No reason for her to be sitting around bored like the rest of us. The social dynamics of Georgetown really depended on what was going on at the time. If the bar was packed then J.C. and Leo usually stuck around to chat with people. If it was a slow night, and they didn’t want to spend money at the bar, it was to the truck they went. Captain Morgan or Jegarmiester was waiting patiently. Lynval would head up the stairs to where the pool tables could be found. Picking a table that looked down on the stage and the front door, he would settle in with his beer and a copy of the local entertainment news paper. I always took this time to stake my claim on a table right on the dance floor. This was where I would keep all my stuff and sit through the show for the rest of the night. Cale, even thought he was great at making rounds to each camp, would ultimately end up sitting with me. Time passed by us staring at each other and talking about work over the loud music of the DJ.
A DJ would start spinning Reggae as soon as Georgetown was satisfied with the primary sound check. I though it was really a great idea. It prepared the atmosphere for the sort of vibe that the band would ultimately be performing. Even though this idea could end up weeding out people from the bar, it also kept a bunch of people from loading up at the bar and dancing to Hip Hop to only be disappointed and walk out in masses when a Reggae band took to the stage. DJ Jah-son was apparently being sold as a part of the Chela and Georgetown package. I really did not understand why. Even though I fully admit that Reggae is not music that I know a lot about, I really felt the DJ’s skills were less than appealing. His transitions were like nails on a chalkboard to me. For a while I couldn’t tell if I was just being a DJ snob and Reggae had different rules that it operated under. When other people commented later on how terrible it all sounded, I felt a little vindicated about my opinion. A DJ is just that, no matter what music he spins. A transition is a movement from one song into another. The human ear would wish that to be smooth. Everyone’s ear but Jah-son’s I guess. He also had this really interesting girlfriend that would help him carry in his records and hang around him while he was working. I admit I quickly stereotyped by her very, very revealing clothing that she wore. I was also starting to get annoyed just by her presence after a while. Maybe that’s why the transitions were so shaky, his girlfriend had to a huge distraction when she would bounce in front the turntables or be rubbing all over him. After I watched her rub her cleavage over the top of his head at the show the band did at a place called Nectors, I was pretty much completely disgusted. Then again I can’t say that I’ve seen her since that gig. Maybe he got tired of her too.
Chela’s arrival always meant a round of hugs. Depending on how much family she had with her, dictated how maybe other hellos and handshakes were to follow. The bare minimum was her Mother and/or her Uncle. Unlike the other men in her family I had seen, her Uncle was a shorter guy. Always well dressed, you could tell he was use to being the center of attention. He always had something funny to say or a comment to make. The man was a handful until you got to really know him. Her mother was a shorter woman that had always seemed very shy but ferocious when it came to her daughter. Eager to see her only girl succeed I had to laugh when the two of them would begin to argue in Spanish while the rest of us were left out of the loop. Parents will always annoy us if we spend too much time with them. Nothing can ever change that. But I do have to say, even though her family was HUGE, every single one of them was friendly and very interesting to talk to. On slow nights it was like an instant audience. The problem with that was Chela made sure they never paid cover to see her. Even though the room was filled with bodies, the pay at the end of the night was not going to reflect that.
Chela was like the unifying force for Georgetown. J.C. and Leo would wander back in from the truck and Lynval would come down from his perch. The sort of girl to fill you in quickly on her day or whatever was going on in her life, I was a bit overwhelmed at first. I was never sure if she liked me or if she was putting up with me because I was a friend of Cale’s. We had talked a couple times about our similar passion for PUMA and after the last show in August she had mentioned that she would love help picking out what she would wear for this Friday night gig. I knew, from stuff that Cale had mentioned, that there had been a lot of discussion going on about stage presence and appearance needing to be worked on. Chela still had a lot of confidence building to do when it came to “owning” the stage. Lynval also wanted her to really work on the creation of the character of Chela. He wanted a more uniform look for what she wore to perform. The guys had given her ideas and sent her shopping. When she walked up to me on the first night of performing at this bar, I was really surprised to hear her ask for my help. Following behind J.C. and her mother I walked outside and back up the hill, where she had parked her Jeep. After how glamorous she had been dressed at the last show I had seen her, the casual nature of the clothes she was pulling out of shopping bags to show us kind of threw me. I felt a little weird being included in this expedition in the first place but deep down I really wanted to be Chela’s friend. I wanted to get to know her better, and if I could help her in anyway, then I wanted to be there to do it. J.C., for his entire working-man image, was giving the best advice out of all of us. As an outfit was put together from her earlier shopping spree and the whole time J.C. was making the best suggestions. I could also better understand why she had been sent out for casual clothes. They wanted her to feel more comfortable in moving around and dancing on stage. Also the band behind her had a very diverse look. Three of them over thirty and all of them looked more middle class than a glam band. A more casual look would fit all of them together as a whole.
The vocal and monitor check was the next step toward the performance, but still happened at least forty-five minutes prior. Gathering up Chela from who ever she was talking to, they would pick a song and run through it while the sound guys worked out whatever kinks. Chela was always stepping onto the dance floor listening to how her microphone and the whole band sounded out in the room. The more I heard from her, the more impressed I’ve become. No matter what, she has the grand ability to keep her pitch near perfect at all times. I would have been thrown off by so many things but she never seems to have a bad day. After listening to this whole routine several times now I almost look forward to how many heads she would turn just in the sound check. People get so use to mediocre garage bands that get time in local bars because it’s cheep entertainment. Really if you look at all the guys in the band individually, you just sort of write them off. Yet when they start to play it’s great to see the sudden interest bloom around me.
The DJ continues to spin after this sound check is completed and for the band this is the last chance for them to make runs to the bar and whatever else they want to do before the show started. Chela had gotten terrible about changing into her performance outfit about fifteen minutes before they were set to go on. That left more time for one more drink or one more person to chat with. After a brief showcase of her obvious talent, people were a lot friendlier after the sound check. It was like a quick little advertisement that left her time to make connections before the show.
There were only two bathrooms in this bar and the one downstairs was a bit of an oddity. It wasn’t in the most obvious place and had no sign on it. In the design of the building it looked more like someone had slapped it there to get another bathroom on the floor plan. While Chela changed I would pace around in the little area by the door waiting to see how it looked, and re-directing traffic up the stairs to the other bathroom. Talking to her while she did her make-up, I tried to get to know her better. I wanted her to know that I wanted to help her anyway I could. Fashion advice was as good as anything.
A quick band meeting was always held to get set lists written and to make sure everyone was on the same page about whatever had been changed or created during the last practice. They would explode out of that meeting with a sense of urgency. As a band they had just discussed the show, but yet there was still time before any of them would get to play. Each one was like a runner straining against that start line. That energy got focused in more creative directions when the whole lot of them would gather up, finishing drinks or whatever, and begin to dance in a group. Even Cale who had been so against dancing when I had taken the crew from work out, was right in there with the rest of them working his groove. After a good song was over they’d walk up on to the stage like rock stars. I always thought that was the most awesome entrance. First they were mingling with those that had been brave enough to get up and dance to what Jah-son was spinning and then suddenly they would pull away to take over the stage. Several nights of watching them dancing before and after shows and I knew this was a project I could get behind. These were musicians that remembered their love of the music first. They loved Reggae music. They would dance to it and feel that passion right before they would become the music for someone else to dance to.
The actual performance went generally the same every night, beginning to end. Musically they were all locked into each other and knew their parts. It was a matter of putting on a real stage show that was different every night. A lot of talk had been had about stage presence. The fact that Chela needed to become a stronger player in the show they put on. With all that said, J.C. and Lynval still seemed to dominate the general conversation side of things. Any time Chela would start to say something in the way of a song introduction or a comment directed at the crowd, one of the two would already be talking over her. I’ve started to feel frustrated for her. It’s tough to know the background and then watch it happen again and again. She needed room to breathe let alone learn her own sense of timing.
Both Cale and Chela were new at the whole public performance angle of this project. Even with the year of work Chela had done solo, singing with a band was an entirely different experience. Both of them hard to learn, that besides performing well, they had to “put on a show”. Lynval always described it as creating a character to go up and play to the crowd with. It was acting as well as making music for a living. Outgoing and energetic, a performer has to get his audience to be involved. In my own experiences with singing and acting as well as my constant judgment of the DJ’s I watch in clubs, there’s just something about a performer that so into their craft that it draws you in and fills you with that same enthusiasm and excitement. There’s a circular energy that can be created; a give and take situation. You create energy and an involved crowd pours it right back in you. It’s a beautiful thing when you’re experiencing it from either side.
That meant taking Lynval’s example and following his bouncing lead. The man hardly stood still, taking up all available space on the stage, he was constantly jumping about and hamming up the songs to the extreme. Leo was stuck behind the drum kit and really J.C. was barricaded in behind his double keyboards and amp, yet he was the ultimate inspiration I thought. Some nights he would get so into the show that he’d take some of his musical breaks to move away from his keyboards in order to dance.
Cale too was exploring the stage. Not just standing in his corner, he was moving about more and more and interacting with his band mates. Dancing over to be with J.C. for a bit, or back to the drum kit, he would make what he likes to call “eye love to his drummer”. Bass and drums are the foundation of a song; if they can be locked into each other then nothing could go wrong. Everyone else could wander off into mistakes but the bass and drums can help them find their way back. He and Lynval were having a lot of fun being goofy together or sandwiching Chela. So much progress was being made, one night at a time.
I haven’t gotten tired of their set yet, even though I’ve heard the same songs more than ten times now. New music was being written and I looked forward to each one. Every week was some different way of presenting the order of songs or just fixing past problems. Heck even changing the entire song to be performed in a different style. I was gaining fast favorites and looked forward to dancing each night they put on a show. I still didn’t feel comfortable dancing to their music yet, but I was having fun and being supportive. I was told that they liked me being on the floor, so I took it as part of my job. If I could send back some energy for them to perform better or start a dance floor for them, then I would do it.
There was a sense of freedom in the fact that I was at a bar and people had come to see the band, not a dance floor full of people. If it struck me to dance I would, if not then I could sit back and watch the show. When I go out dancing, I’m very hardcore about doing just that: dancing the night away. Being out with the band had liberated me. I was out enjoying life, and I could sit and relax to do it if I wanted. With that in mind it totally changed my outlook on what to wear. I have conditioned myself to dress for survival. Going out dancing meant dressing for that specific activity. Clothing I can move and dance in, jeans with lots of pockets, comfortable shoes, and the bare essentials from my wallet that could get me through the night and avoid funny bulges. Right down to the jewelry I wore, I had a selection of stuff that I knew from field testing would survive a night of bouncing around and not break, fall out, or annoy the hell out of me. All of that a side, my wardrobe does contain a lot of nice things that I hardly wore because it would never survive a night at the clubs. Following the band around, as I had been, was going to give me the perfect option of digging those forgotten items out and enjoying them as I had planned when I bought them in the first place. Just thinking about that filled me with silly, girlish, materialistic glee.
I did end up creating some band gear as a joke and as advertisement. The club had been an eye opening situation for Cale, but he was falling into the bar scene with a lot more comfort. After watching J.C. and Leo work their mojo on girls after the shows I knew he had to be at least pondering the idea of what it would be like to be meeting/greeting the college girls that were in there every Friday night. Once you’ve been on stage, the general public seems to find you more appealing. It’s the rock star idea of meeting or knowing someone famous. Performing in front of any audience counted toward this ideal. When the show’s over and you walk back stage, that person that was ignoring you at the bar earlier suddenly seems ready to chat. I kept joking that Cale could be using the drink tickets we were saving up as an ice breaker to meet girls. Not only are you flaunting your VIP status but your buying her a drink and still not spending any money, a guy couldn’t go wrong with this!
After several conversations about groupies and how he looked forward to going on tour with the band, I was reminded of a similar conversation I had had with a DJ friend of mine so long ago. For months Janai and I had been listening to our DJ friend complain about the fact that the cover band that performed on the top floor of the club he worked at, was getting more girls that he was as the main floor DJ. For his birthday I got the grand idea of making the two of us matching T-shirts. Going for the child sizes so that the shirts would be good and tight, I had “DJ K’s Girls” put on the front and “Sup-a-stars” put on the back. He was famous for saying that word constantly. I’ll save the details of this story for another post, but needless to say when we showed up in our matching black shirts and tight jeans he was definitely pleased. People thought we worked for the club and he got his own personal groupies for the night. Good times!
So back to the T-shirt Shop I went and had a band shirt made. “I’m with the bass player” was put on the front and my own version of the band’s logo was put on the back. The moment I took my jacket off at the bar there was a photo shoot. Everyone thought it was hilarious as well as a great idea. Even Lynval praised it as a great merchandising concept that could be employed in the future. I was damn proud of myself the whole way around. Not only was Cale getting publicity for my idea, but I had more people coming to talk to me during the night as well. Even other bass players from bands they’ve played with since have had something to say about my shirt when I wore it to shows.
Flashy clothing a side, I wasn’t just sitting on my butt every show trying to look pretty. I did dance, and I did it a lot. I quickly learned that Lynval’s wife June loved dancing and was on the floor constantly whenever she came out for a show. She was the sort to be fine dancing alone but was always getting someone out of their seat to dance with her. After watching me dance a couple times, I was the first person she came after when she was dancing and I wasn’t. It was almost ironic when she had to practically tug me out of my seat to dance a couple times. Who would have thought I would be the one refusing to dance? Another girl is becoming a regular, already, and was perfectly fine dancing alone in her own little corner. I hope to learn her name soon; she’s very good. I’ve honestly been watching her to learn some moves. Her style is very laid back and comfortable. Reggae is obviously music that she’s into. I hoped to watch her for some tips on how to feel more comfortable dancing to Reggae myself.
One of the songs they performed every night was Shine. Chela would always jump down on to the dance floor to involve the crowd. The first night that she walked over to me while singing, I was incredibly flattered. Yay for knowing the band! For once I wasn’t that person in the back watching a band perform and other people getting involved. This time around I was right in the middle of it all. Times after that I’ve been on the dance floor helping to fill it up with people for her to mingle with. The song itself was about going out to the club and dancing with a cute guy; not necessarily to hook up, but for the sake of having a good time. An awesome song that was selling something I wished more people could understand. I was always excited for her to come over and involve me in whatever the lyrics were about at the time. Back up dancer was going to be another of my credentials for my resume with the band, if it was the last thing I did.
Not every show has gone without a hitch. One night in particular, the band had to take an unplanned intermission. I remember sitting in the middle of the seating area, so I could take pictures of the whole stage. There was a commotion at the front door and two guys ran back into the bar. One made for the stairs, seeming to grab another guy who was standing at the base. The second guy caught up with the first and a huge pile of people flowed into a scuffle that erupted at the bottom of the stairs. I was recognizing members of Chela’s family that were getting involved as the brawl got bigger and immediately turned back to the stage to see if she had noticed yet. For a moment I thought they were just going to keep on going as if nothing was wrong, but the minute Chela saw the fight she stopped mid-note and started shouting for the commotion to stop. The next minute she saw her family was in the thick of things and she was off the stage like a shot. For some reason as she slowly passed me eyeing up the situation, I stuck my hand out to take her microphone from her. Something told me she was bound to get involved and should not have the mic with her. Clicking the microphone off, I sat there in shock as I watched little sister Chela dive right into the middle of things with the rest of the bodies.
When everything was sorted out it was Chela’s mother, who I had described earlier as small yet ferocious, that led out a very tall man that was bleeding from the head. This was the guy that the very large bouncer and the owner of the bar, who wasn’t a slight guy either, had lost control of outside. Yet all it took was mama to lead him back out. I followed behind the band outside to talk to Chela about the details. She was utterly distraught because it had been a member of her family that had been led out. There was also some hint as to the fact that the bouncer had taken a cheap shot at him, and thus the bleeding head wound. The show did continue after a short break and with great energy. I was so glad to see her focus her emotions so easily into the show she was determined to put on and not be completely distracted by family drama.
Even after the last song, the show didn’t always end right there. The entire band would be on this “high” from putting on a good performance and when the DJ would kick back into his music, it was to the dance floor that they continued to express themselves. I loved being out on the dance floor with the band. Each one of them had a different style and each one of them was just hilarious to watch. Cale is always reserved but with each night that he goes onto the floor of his own account, I see a whole lot of potential for the guy to be a great dancer. Leo would take up the whole floor with his Shaman like dancing style. A large framed guy with dreadlocks practically down to the floor, around the floor he would move in sweeping steps, his arms out wide as if praising some deity. He was always the first to make a move for a cute girl and normally ended up successful in dancing with her. Leo was a smooth operator every time. J.C. was the one I always watched. Over six feet tall, he had a lanky build that just seemed to increase his ‘working man’ image. Always well dressed, you could still tell this was a man that worked hard for everything he owned. Work hard and play hard was something a bartender friend use to say. This fit J.C.’s attitude. He worked the floor with a passion I recognized. For J.C. Reggae spoke to his soul in the same way House speaks to mine. It was so great to see him close his eyes and feel every note. Chela was always surrounded by people the minute she came off the stage, so I hardly ever saw her after the show. Lynval would dance for a moment and then head for his wife or a beer.
As the set list gets longer so does the show, leaving it later at night for the show to be over. Cale and I both have to work Saturdays so we never stuck around for very long after the show. Giving him time to unwind I was content to dance, but the minute he was ready to break down and load up the truck I was right there to help out. Back into the truck his gear went, and I would sit out on the tail gate as a guard while he disappeared back into the bar one last time for goodbyes.
Driving back toward the city, there was always this weird feeling of accomplishment. The band was getting better every time and I felt like I was really getting involved with some people that were really awesome musicians. I had no real intentions in mind by helping out. I didn’t want anything from them. I wasn’t weaseling my way into a spot on stage. I just wanted to be there backstage helping them with stuff to make the whole journey to fame a little smoother.