And while I'm no Dewey Finn, last Thursday I found myself molding young minds in my own mutant version of School of Rock. But before you start thinking that I'm getting benevolent, giving back to the community and all that, you should know this wasn't something I'd instigated. I love kids as much as the next guy, but truth be told, I was a little nonplussed when Aaron Betcher from Oer the Ramparts -- the musician who's also the associate program director for the YMCA of Boulder Valley and the man behind Garage Rock 101, a rock-and-roll summer camp for kids -- asked me to mingle with a crew of crumbsnatchers for an hour. What wisdom could I possibly impart to these kids? I wondered. And more to the point, I then thought, And besides that, I'm a busy dude. I've got "work" to do.
My knee-jerk reaction exemplified exactly what's wrong with the music industry today. From the media that covers it to the artists who make it, music's become a j-o-b. It's not fun -- and that's a problem. To paraphrase Bob Dylan, music's really all about three chords and the truth. That's what I'd tell the kids, I decided -- once I'd gotten my head out of my ass.
I scrambled to put together a syllabus. I dredged up every conversation I've had over the past year with every struggling musician and recalled my own formative days. What I planned to say was probably the antithesis of everything they'd heard before, I realized. An old goat friend of mine insists that in order to succeed, you have to embrace a certain ideology. And as much as I argue with him, he continues to insist that you need to have the right packaging, the right image and, most important, the right production. I don't subscribe to that theory. To me, it's all about the music, nothing more, nothing less -- good, well-written, thought-provoking music. But sadly, my friend's not alone in his thinking: A few weeks ago I read a message-board post that suggested bands should analyze the pop charts, figure out who's popular and then emulate that sound. Horseshit, I say. Historically, the artists who've truly scratched the grey matter, who've really made a difference with their indelible art -- acts like R.E.M., Fugazi, Radiohead and U2, whose music will be around long after we're all gone -- didn't worry about making it on the radio or getting written up in the paper. They concentrated on writing good songs, on moving people with sounds and vibrations.
And that's precisely what I told Betcher and his kids when they came by my office. But as much as I'm an idealist, I'm a pragmatist, too. So I also offered them a little insight into the media game, explaining what to do and not to do when pursuing coverage, and demonstrating the makings of a good press kit versus a bad press kit. "Keep it simple," I said. "Nobody wants to read a novel about your band. Limit it to one sheet, and forget about the expensive glossy folders. Anything more than a single piece of paper and you're just killing trees."
Then, after nearly twenty minutes of yakking, I asked if anybody had questions. A few did. One of the kids, barefoot and clad in a tie-dyed Dead T-shirt, with a fro that would've given Cedric and Omar from the Mars Volta a run for their money, raised his hand. He wanted to know if Westword gravitated toward covering one style of music over another. I explained how we listen to everything and base our section on the music's merit. But the kid kept after me. And finally, I realized what he was reaching for.
"What kind of music do you listen to?" I asked.
"Mostly jam bands," he replied. "You know, the Dead and stuff like that."
Oh, great, I thought. This kid read my column on the Dead. I was busted. He knew that I'd sooner be strapped to a chair and forced to listen to the Wiggles than endure yet another batch of marginally talented noodlers.
"Actually, you're living in the best place for that kind of music," I said, trying to escape his trap. "But there's also a lot of acts out there, so to stand out, you have to be really good."
With that, his face brightened like he'd just found out that Christmas had been moved up to tomorrow. And maybe it has. This kid hasn't had the opportunity to become jaded; for him, the world is brand-new. And suddenly all my high-minded thoughts disappeared, and I was transported back to their age, a time when I was a starry-eyed rocker, before life rounded off my edges. These kids didn't want to hear my words -- no matter how sage, or sincere, they may have been. To them, I sounded just like Charlie Brown's teacher. All these kids want to do is rock...and someday when they grow up (or maybe even sooner), they want to be rock stars.
A kid wearing a trucker hat posed the final question. "So, are the Vines playing at Red Rocks with Incubus?" he asked. "I heard that they canceled."
The future beckons.
Upbeats and Beatdowns: This Thursday, July 15 at 7 p.m., the Westword Music Showcase Awards will take place at the Bluebird Theater. We'll be announcing both the Showcase winners and the opener of the Coors Light Mountain Jam; that same night, Underground 102, a benefit to raise funds for Denver Public Schools music programs, takes place at ROX Infusion Lounge. The show features performances by United Dope Front, DJs Panic, Skwared, Chan Pain, Uplifter, Seafoam, Nutmeg, Dru Fog, Ejay, Equulei and Ivy. On Friday, July 16, Lipgloss hosts a fashion show that benefits SafeKids; meanwhile, Wanker roars back onto the scene with a reunion show at Herman's Hideaway with Rubber Planet, You Call That Art?? and Itchbaum Lives! On Saturday, July 17, The Pirate Sygnl celebrates the release of its new disc, Norma(l) Hugh Manchild's American Revolution(s), with Prana, Ideal Ideologies, Asylum and DJs Spider and Ali Impossible at Clandestinos.