The Reggae Beat Goes On

Another month has gone by and I’ve continued hanging with the band Chela and Georgetown. I’ve tried to become as helpful as possible and I find myself starting to get caught up in the politics. It happens to every band, but I’m honestly surprised at how quickly things went ridiculously south. For all intents and purposes it’s been a MONTH since they’ve started performing consistently enough to be called “constantly”. Already there are sides being taken, rumors going around, and a whole lot of mistrust as how the project as a whole is being run.
After the show at the Vera Project when Lynval immediately went on stage with Madness, who was doing a show at the Phoenix Underground, a rock star mentality reared its ugly head. The next night was a show at Studio 7, which I still believe to be one of their best stage performances so far. They had had a board tap done of the performance which is a recording of the sound that’s coming right from the sound board. The levels are going to be misleading without the room and body’s moving the sound around. Yet, instead of encouraging them to continue on with the huge leap of progress they made in one night, the All-Knowing Rock Star went on a rampage that nothing they did was good enough.
Now I talk about my rock star moments. I mean them in the way of being noticed and recognized and or getting special privileges for being a regular at some place. That’s my definition of a rock star moment. When I use the term Rock Star in this context I mean that pompous attitude that is created from having been famous. Suddenly the experience a person has is the end all knowledge for how things are supposed to work. Being on that stage with a packed house of screaming people made him remember what it used to be like. Looking at his small time project with Chela and Georgetown, it just didn’t seem to be working the way he wanted it too suddenly. Seeming to forget they had only been playing for months, and not years, the tirade became a silly one I think. A band has to put in the time to become famous. Besides the practice it’s also a matter of getting a fan base. A band doesn’t get famous without fans.
After several crushing band meetings a rift has very obviously been created. The lash-back from certain members of the band was the word “has-been” that merely made Lynval stretch even farther in the opposite direction from them. He has started wearing his suits from The Specials to band gigs instead of the black and white uniform. He doesn’t hang with the band anymore and the whole atmosphere before and after shows is very tense. JC and Leo head for the truck consistently now, getting drunk before shows and only adding to the drama.
I’ve been sitting back and watching the whole affair. Some part of every side has been talking to me about the situation. It makes me sad knowing that it’s all just a case of miscommunication, and a whole lot of pride. Even knowing what I do, I’m determined to stay out of it. It’s not my band, as much as I try to be apart of it one way or another. I’ll only come out the worst for taking sides. It’s inevitable to have internal problems if they expect to survive they have to learn to fix it as well. Until then I shake my head and try to be supportive where I can.
The band as a project is only continuing to get better. Since the Studio 7 show Chela seems to have unlocked her inner diva. They’ve all got personality and as they interact with each other, tension or not, a great show is what comes out of it. I’ll never forget the dance break that JC took during the show at Studio 7. Up onto the drum riser he went dancing with his heart and soul on display. It was the greatest thing I had ever seen. Even on the tiny stage of Tommy’s Nightclub and Grill they’ve taken a small part of that feeling with them. Moving about and blowing that stage up to bigger proportions. The external problem they’ve been facing is the lack of an audience.
They become almost an entirely different band when there is no one out on a Friday night. Directly effected by sports games or mid-terms at the University, there’s really nothing to be done. It’s not like people just need to be out and advertising would pull them in. The population is already doing something else. On those slow nights the energy and the sound are lost into the room like a depressing back hole. Hard to care about putting on a show when there’s no one there or just Chela’s family that has seen it all a million times before.
They’ve played at many different places now; energizing crowds that I had thought would be more likely to jump them in the parking lot than yell for an encore. At the Vera Project, all the bands prior had been heavy metal to hard core punk, screaming unintelligible lyrics into a microphone that’s practically shoved into their mouths. I was seriously worried about the crowd reaction when it came time for Chela to step out there, but the rest of the bands only came out to dance. It was great! I love being on the floor listening to the people around me talking about what a great band that Georgetown band was.
At the Rocksport it was a lot harder to find the will to perform. There was no one sitting out in the area of the restaurant that they were performing at, and the crowd tucked away in the bar area was very “sports bar” types: interested only in yelling at a big screen TV’s when their team isn’t playing well and pounding back beers. Not the sort to seek out Reggae music and go dancing. I hate to say it, but both Cale and I pre-funked before the show since he lives two blocks away from the restaurant and I kept right on drinking through that whole show. JC and Leo were exclusively out in the truck and as much as we tried to keep them from getting too wasted before the show, it only made them angrier. The whole thing is a vicious circle now that I think about it. I honestly believe that everyone but Lynval was drunk through that show. I was dancing on an empty floor beyond caring. No one but Chela’s limited family was watching anyway.
At Jazzbones it was a Monday night gig and in a town that didn’t quite party like the city they were use to. The guys were trying to stay sober because they had been asked to and because the drive was long, yet there was no one in the place to play for. Damn hard to feel good about your talent as a musician when there’s no one there to hear you and you know that you spent more in gas money getting there then you’ll make that night playing the actual gig. The sound guy had no freaking idea what he was doing and the only other people in the bar besides staff was the opening band. On the whole there were only three ladies that stayed to watch the band and yet they came back to Tommy’s the very next week. Whether that show had been worthless, as the pay had suggested, they managed to create some fans that they wouldn’t have reached other wise. Every little bit helps.
Yet with all this going for them fights were still happening over where and when shows were booked and how much money was being made. The best night so far had been $300. Split by six makes for a small donation toward the gas and other expenses for the venture in the first place. But even I know that when starting out, you have to be in it for the love and not the money. The money comes much, much later. On the other hand, there truly is something to be said for being a starving musician. JC had a very valid argument when it came to subject of money, “Tummy hungry.” That is pretty much the bottom line.
I feel so wrapped up in this whole project. I want them to do well. They have so much potential and opportunities available to them that most bands don’t get right out of the gate. Yet they are making their own name. With each show they meet more people, meet more bands, and make their own independent connections. I hope I get to ride this out with them. Even if I’m still hauling bass cabinets onto the stage of the Key Arena, I’d love to say I’ve been with them from beginning to end.