Live,
original music is a rare bird. If you want to get the kick of catching it you
have to dig a little. Live ain’t the
problem, original is. The majority of
local clubs that book live music rely heavily on cover bands.
Rochester
has an array of original bands, solo artists, composers, etc., but audiences
seem to gravitate to the unimaginative and the obvious.
You
can weave through a crowded dance floor at the Montage Grille with a cover band
on stage one night and watch tumbleweeds weave through the joint the next when
an original band is playing its heart out.
When
the Bug Jar puts a bunch of original bands in Highland Bowl each summer, a
couple hundred souls come out. When the East End throws its summer street
festivals — full of cover bands — thousands show up. Thousands.
“People
wanna go hear the music they know,” says Mike O’Leary, owner of Milestones.
“People don’t want to take musical chances.”
Everyone
says the same thing: They want to hear what they know. The audience demand for
comfy material is high “because they know the songs,” says Me & The Boyz
singer Tina Guarnere. Me & The Boyz plays fiery funk and soul covers. The
bandmembers are all fantastic musicians and dance floors flood everywhere they
play. But this is due in large part to their choice of recognizable material.
Not
everyone gets it or digs it. Some, particularly original musicians, almost take
it personally.
“How
can someone see a cover band and go, ‘These guys rule?'” asks The Grinders
guitarist-singer Todd Dentico. “They’re not great. Elton John’s great, not the
band doing the Elton John song. There’s nothing to it, c’mon. Plus it’s
boring.”
The
Grinders is your basic rough ‘n’ tumble, rock ‘n’ roll bar band. Though the
music is referential in the extreme, the band writes its own stuff.
But
he does concede on one point.
“You
know, it’s different if you’re doing one or two cover tunes and the rest are
your own. That’s OK. All bands do that — the freakin’ Stones — every band’s
done that.”
So
by Dentico’s math, his band isn’t a cover band even though they throw in the
odd cover here and there. He did play in a cover band once, though. But he
considers his time with The Hope Dashers above reproach — again thanks to an
equation.
“It
would have mattered to me if I wasn’t in two original bands too,” he explains.
“Otherwise people would have been exactly right giving me shit.”
“Right from the beginning what
we planned to do was get in front of as many people as we could,” says Uncle
Plum guitarist Mike Gladstone. Uncle Plum used a sort of bait-and-switch.
When
the band isn’t playing modern rock radio covers, they hammer out original tunes
that could — and should — be on modern rock radio.
“We
figured we would play the kind of music to get people out to come see the band
then we’d work in the originals from there and they’d get comfortable with them
and make the transition.”
It
worked. Though the band is still known primarily for its covers, Uncle Plum is
probably the top drawing act in the city.
“It’s
happened,” he says. “We’ve sold over 3000 CDs so far. People enjoy hearing the
originals, they sing along now that they know them.”
Uncle
Plum manages to pull people in an increasingly fickle market.
“You’re
competing with so many different things in the city,” says Gladstone. “It’s
difficult to get a lot of people out.”
Worse
yet, audiences could simply stay home altogether.
“People
aren’t going out that much,” says O’Leary. “And when they do, they want what’s
familiar, what’s comfortable.”
When
Milestones started in the early’90s
no cover bands were allowed.
“It
was what Milestones was about: originality,” O’Leary says. “You had to be
original. That was the niche. That was what made the room unique and gave us a
name. There were a significant number of bands that were playing original music
and there were a significant number of people who would come out and see them.”
Flash
forward to today: “There’s just less original music out there and less people
going to see original music,” he says.
But
besides the supplier and demander, there’s the musician with his hopeful hand
out. And let’s face it: It’s nice to get paid. The more accessible the band,
the bigger the draw, the bigger the payday. Some bands have had to adjust to
survive.
“Back
10 to 15 years ago bands could make enough money where it made sense,” O’Leary
says.
He
ventures there is one-third the number of original bands there was when he
first opened. So he’s had to adapt as well.
“I
wouldn’t say cover bands are a necessary evil,” he says. “But they’re a
necessity now. They can be fun. You know, I used to try and be a snob about it.
I think that was somewhat foolish. I don’t think most people care. Some of the
original band people might care.”
Steve Grills is an
amazing blues guitarist. He’s a regular six-string encyclopedia. But Grills and
his band The Roadmasters do no original music.
“I’ve
actually thought about that myself, what defines a cover band,” Grills says.
“And to me it’s obvious: a band that’s playing material that your average
listener has heard time and time again on the radio so they immediately
recognize it. I try to do songs that mean something to me. I also try to avoid
songs that have been done to death.”
It
seems the blues can suffer from the familiarity curse as well. Just ask Grills
how many times he’s been asked to play “Sweet Home Chicago,” “Stormy Monday,”
or the dreaded “Mustang Sally.”
The
songs that Grills does play give him room to express himself as well as
celebrate his heroes.
“You
should not try to be somebody else,” he says. “You really need to find your own
voice. I enjoy the improvisational aspects of what I do. Basically, I approach
music as a guitarist. I’m a guitar freak. I love the guitar and I love all the
different blues guitarists.”
Guitarist
Aleks Disljenkovic, who plays jazz with The White Hots and jump blues with The
New Trendsetters, rides the fence. He plays classic covers (or standards, as
they’re often referred in this genre) and slick originals. He seems happy with
both.
“A
long as I’m not getting booed, it’s OK,” he says.
But
contemporary pop and rock, particularly Top 40, leaves a lot less wiggle room
for a musician to show out and hone a creative edge. If you venture to far away
from the original arrangement and tone, people won’t recognize it anymore.
Me
& The Boyz bassist Rickey Ellis found nominal success playing original rock
music with Duke Jupiter back in the late ’70s and early ’80s. He’s already
chased the dream. Now he’s just having fun.
“To
bring original music into this might kill some of the fun,” Ellis says.
“Because then you’ve got to satisfy egos that aren’t involved in cover music.
Nobody takes it personal now because we’re doing all cover songs.”
Still,
the creative temptation lingers. And with Me & The Boyz, it’s not a
question of talent, it’s a question of marketing to picky, perhaps
narrow-minded, fans.
“This
would be a perfect band to do originals ’cause the band’s so good,” he says.
“You know, you try to play three minutes worth of material that they don’t
listen to — even if it’s a cover tune that’s a little off the beaten path,
that they don’t recognize — you can see ’em looking at each other looking for
a reason to go to the bar. It’s a drag. It’d be great if we could figure out
how to put an original in without ruining the great relationships we have.”
And
even though Uncle Plum tries to put a twist on their covers and shoehorn in as
many originals as they can, there’s still a hint of frustration.
“Of
course it would be wonderful to be playing all our own music,” Gladstone says.
“Thousands of people out all the time, singing along. That would be awesome.
But to be realistic in this market — and I think most markets — the way
things are now, you really need to do a combination to keep a lot of people out
and interested. It’s a nice buzz to play in front of 10,000 people at Ten Ugly
Men or play the East End Festivals and have all those people out in front of
you. I wonder if we just did the originals would we be able to get our own
material in front of that many people. Hard to say.”
Gladstone
thinks local radio support would be a big boost.
“Hit
’em with it the same way they do with other music,” he says.
“My
opinion is you’re not going to change them,” he says. “People are raised on
familiarity and pop culture. If they wanna leave during our originals, I don’t
care. I’m not desperate. I’m having a good time. I love playing. I play to
play.”
This article appears in Sep 28 – Oct 4, 2005.
