LIFESTYLE: The Headliners

From lack of rehearsal space to losing members, student bands face many obstacles The buzzing patrons slowly filter in. Everybody recognizes a familiar face and settles into small groups around the scattered tables. The band warms up, sending screeching microphone feedback through the amplifiers. As the first strains of the solo acoustic guitar drift to the back of the room, the small tables rapidly begin to fill. And the parade of student bands keeps the audience -- devoted followers of the University music scene -- blithely satisfied. The vast majority of campus bands remain invisible to the average student. Only the music scene's insiders monitor the rise and fall of University bands. And anonymity is the least of the problems a young group must face. Questions of style, where and when to rehearse, and the simple matter of chemistry must all be confronted before a new band can get going. Most campus bands are fragile creatures, easily shattered by members' graduations or simple conflicts of interest. This volatility dims the long term prospects of many bands. The University's only ska band, the Lidds, was one of the few bands to achieve campus-wide familiarity. But even such a high profile group made an inauspicious debut. Engineering senior John Cole, the group's saxophonist, hadn't played the instrument for over two years before he was asked to join the band. And the group's lead singer, former University student Jerrold "Rock" Johnson, was asked to join while out jogging one day. Their first public performance together was similarly disorganized. Former University student Jeremy Fish, the band's drummer, "came in and told us that we had a gig, and we only had three songs at the time," Cole said. The group managed to write five more songs before their first performance, but still had one wrinkle to iron out before taking the stage. "It took until the day we were performing for the first time to come up with The Lidds," said Johnson, who currently works for the University's School of Veterinary Medicine. After more than a year together, the group broke up in November having lost several members to graduation. Johnson and his fellow former Lidds, Cole and College senior Bart Milkenburger, decided to form an entirely new group rather than attempt to replace the missing pieces. "Bart and I pretty much went out and found these musicians," Cole said. "They were basically the hottest freshman coming in." But the new band will have to deal with the same problems that confronted the Lidds over a year ago. And compounded by the impending graduation of Cole and Milkenburger, the band's prospects for success are still questionable. "I don't really know if this band is going to get going," Cole said. If it gels, the new group plans to dabble in funk music, but ska fans still have one more chance to see the Lidds in action. The group is planning to hold a reunion at this year's Spring Fling. "It'll be our last official get together," Johnson said. He added that he hopes the new group can match or even surpass the Lidds' success. "Optimally, I'd like to get a band that is actually going somewhere," he said. Cole said he is also considering making a career out of his music, but is realistic about his prospects. "Its a long shot," he said. With the demise of the Lidds, the alternative rock/punk group Splendorbin has moved to the forefront of the campus music scene. The year-and-a-half old band, who's music is self-described as "melodic punk," is one of the few University bands to establish a reputation off-campus. In fact, the band rarely makes appearances on campus. When they do, it is invariably at the Pi Lambda Phi fraternity house which was described as "the best place to play in West Philadelphia" by Wharton senior Bill Elliot, one of the band's guitarists. But Splendorbin's goals extend far beyond merely becoming the best band on campus. They have already independently produced and distributed two cassettes, and recently teamed up with Static Records to produce their first seven inch disk. Unlike many bands, they don't intend to let graduation interfere with their success. The all-senior band plans to stay together next year and may even go on tour this summer. Another up and coming alternative rock band is Synapse. But like the Lidds, band members can remember how tough it was starting out. "We played in the Quad until we got kicked out," recalled Wharton sophomore Jason Seldon, Synapse's lead guitarist. Since that time, the band has found a home in the basement of the Pi Lam fraternity house, where several of the members are brothers. And with their newfound stability has come success. Synapse played at Spring Fling last year and are planning to do so again this year. They are also trying to independently publish a seven inch disk on which they hope to put three of their original songs. "Everybody in the band has different record company connections," Seldon said. "So we'll just have to see who will help us." Recently, the band took several months off while searching for a new drummer until Splendorbin's drummer, College senior Jason McKibben, agreed to fill in. Band members are enthusiastic about the change. "Since he's joined, our sound has changed a lot," said College sophomore Ben Morgan, the group's bassist. "It has become a lot more punk." The band hopes to mirror Splendorbin's off-campus success, but has yet to garner the same respect in the Philadelphia music scene. "We haven't been able to play off campus yet," Morgan said. "It's very tough for Penn bands." This summer, they plan to tour the East Coast. But many of the problems that plague University bands do not affect groups based off-campus. College senior Ricardo Richards has played bass in his family's band, The Sons of Ace, for 15 years. "My dad is Ace," Richards explained. "And with me and my brothers, we are The Sons of Ace." Although the band's roots are in reggae and Ace himself was deeply involved in Bob Marley's first album, Richards noted that they are all classically-trained musicians capable of playing many styles. In past years, the group played on campus at fraternity parties and made several appearances at the Castle. Currently, they play every Thursday night at the Ups & Down Bar on 5th Street and have recently finished their third CD, titled Falasha. PARMESAN, a student group dedicated to assisting the University's musical community, is also giving local bands stage exposure in their weekly performances. It is a non-profit group, dependent on volunteers who work to support the musical community. "Its a great way to get the music scene going," said Wharton junior Daryl Marco, the group's leader. PARMESAN tries to schedule bands from across the musical spectrum, according to Marco. At a recent show, the acts ranged from a solo acoustic guitarist to a bizarre keyboard band called Umbilical Corduroy, which featured a song dedicated to the infamous "Mad Shitter," the yet-to-be-identified person who has smeared bathrooms in the Quadrangle with feces. "We try to run the gamut of styles," said College sophomore Marc Sand, one of the PARMESAN assistants. "It gets really boring if we just run the same brands of music every week." Sand, whose brother helped start the organization, said that on a good night, nearly 200 people pack into the High Rise North Rathskellar Lounge. He also noted that many of the most successful student bands over the past few years played on the PARMESAN stage on their way up. The shows, performed every Thursday, are especially helpful for younger bands. They provide a social atmosphere for those people interested in music, and can also give a new band their first opportunity to perform in public. "One of the things that we try to do is help bands form," Marco said. College sophomore Amy Lebow is the lead singer for one newly formed pop/rock band that has taken advantage of the "open mike" opportunity at PARMESAN. "We played PARMESAN twice last semester," Lebow said. "The first time it was just me and my guitarist Danny. There just aren't many other options for open-mike experience." The group's guitarist, College freshman Danny Barria, began to put together the group soon after arriving to campus in September. "I'd had a band back home," Barria said. "So I posted on a newsgroup and it just sprang from there." Lebow was the first to respond to the posting, but after a long search, the group discovered a bassist in the most unlikely of places. "The bassist is actually the guitarist's next door neighbor," said Lebow. The last member of the group was the most difficult to find. "It's hardest to find a drummer," Lebow said. "And there are no drumsets on campus." When asked about their goals now that the group had finally been assembled, the members of the band were realistic. Barria said he would like to "play a couple of parties and maybe a bar or two," but added that "anything bigger than that would be unnecessary." "My goal is basically just to write a few songs and play them," Lebow said, explaining that the band had not yet played together as a group. "Before we could just practice in one of our rooms," she added. "But now it is much harder." "It's just really tough to get a band started, especially with on-campus housing," Barria said. Despite the challenges that University bands face, there remain a relatively small but dedicated group of musicians who help keep the scene going. Because of their size, many of these veteran musicians have had the opportunity to play together. Before he joined the Lidds, Johnson was the lead singer for a group called the Groove Merchants. He was recruited by Fish, the former drummer for the popular campus band Rhino Lift. Fish also recruited Cole. And when not running PARMESAN, Marco himself is involved in a number of bands. The most successful of these is a group called Nimbus Burn, whose style he described as "jammy guitar pop." Cole once played alongside Marco in Nimbus Burn. In fact, Cole also teamed up with College senior Robert Markoff to form Benevolent Ensemble. But he is far from the most prolific musician on campus. That distinction may well fall to Marco. "At this point in time I only belong to three bands," Marco said. "But at my worst I belonged to four or five."