Just Hamlet saying to Garrett, the might-be drummer, during a momentary break in the action: "Oh, hey, Garrett. That's Billy, our manager. Slash friend. Slash photographer. Slash... (interior decorator -- see the snazzy red soundproofing boards and new Nerf hoop above the door.)"
And Garrett saying: "So... friend?"
And Billy responding: "Yeah... basically."
Now, I've read in a how-to-get-your-band-signed book or two that bands should never, ever hand management duties over to a friend.
And yes, wouldn't every band love for Velvet Hammer to show up on their doorstep with a management deal in tow.
So, sure, bands, send your press kits and demos out to every local label whose Web site hints that it might accept unsolicited stuff and you see where that goes.
Into a big slush pile that no one's ever gonna look at and which (hopefully) eventually will get recycled, that's where.
Then try calling to follow up, let 'em know about a big show you've got at the Roxy that weekend, as Dave did.
Keep in mind, Dave is a natural-born salesman. It's what he does and does well for a living: Get on the phone and sell tools he has barely any knowledge about to people who probably do.
"Never have I been hung up on so quickly," Dave said after his round of calls to prospective management companies.
"Who do you represent?"
"My band."
"No, what label?"
"Uh, label?"
Click.
"Who do you represent?"
"Uh, Zzzzz-enith Productions." (Or whatever it was Dave was looking at at the time.)
Click.
"Hi, I'm calling because my band--"
Click.
OK, so try going another route.
A stranger finds you online. A stranger whose dream it is to get into the music industry managing bands.
Stranger No. 1 is a good-looking nearly middle-aged woman with a daughter in high school. Her ideas have to do with having her daughter spread the word at school, bring lots of friends to shows, even play theAE's CD at her job, at, like, Urban Outfitters. Couldn't hurt, right?
Except that after the band provides her arms full of CDs and stickers and whatever paraphernalia she might send out to labels and give to would-be fans, she disappears off the face of the earth -- except for a nonsensical, drunk MySpace message a few months down the road.
Try it again with Stranger No. 2, another good-looking middle-aged woman who actually is taking classes on band management, and who has memorized all the rules of what she can and can't do. She can promote a band's "story." She can't book shows.
After Hamlet took a long lunch one day to meet her in Long Beach somewhere to discuss "the band's future," a couple weeks later, all three members (yes, this was between drummers) drove down for another lunch meeting to continue discussing "the band's future."
She gave them homework: "Come up with a gimmick, something about you I can pitch to magazines. Also, decide what you're going to say when people tell you you sound 'too much like System of a Down.' Also, consider hiring my friend to redesign your Web site. That's very important -- and he'll only charge you $400."
After that they didn't hear much from her until the week of a big show at the Roxy, when they were opening up for local favorite Opus Dai.
A week like this can be hellishly stressful for a young band like theAE. They've gotta prepare to play well, obviously. And if that's all there were to it... life would be sweet.
But that's NOT all there is to it.
For starters, in this case theAE was preparing with temporary drummer No. 2, a sweet, enthusiastic, talented drum rat named Jay Setar. A quick learner, to be sure, but also what they call a "drum whore." As in, someone who drums for multiple projects in addition to or instead of being IN a band. So, schedule, oh, one practice before this very big show.
Secondly, know that the Roxy is a pay-to-play establishment. So, the young band has signed a contract that it will sell at least 80 tickets at $10 a pop. In other words, theAE has committed to showing up the night of the gig with $800 if it wants to A) get on stage and B) remain in the good graces of the Sunset Strip clubs.
Third of all, theAE had auditions with two drummers set up that week.
And this is when Miche-- whoops, Stranger No. 2 e-mailed to ask the band to make time to come down to Long Beach again to, you guessed it, "discuss the band's future."
Hamlet's written reply laid out for her chaos of that week and offered to let her lend a hand, if she was so interested.
That disappeared her, too.
So. Billy.
Billy, who loves the damn band and has since it formed.
Billy, who introduced them in their original shape almost three years ago to a manager who turned out to be too sketchy to trust, but who still sat down with the group and gave them a half-assed offer.
Billy, who might or might not have something to do with the thousands of alchemist element flyers and stickers littering Hollywood.
Billy, whose job building sets on music videos has him in regular contact with folks such as, say, SOAD's Serj Tankian.
Billy, who is very intent on making money off of this not-always-functional group of diverse and spirited musicians, including Omar, with whom he's been friends longest.
"Yeah, I want to make money off these guys," Billy told me not too long ago. "But it's not just that. I believe in them too. I mean, look at Omar, he just loves playing and he's got a family to support. Same with Hamlet, you can tell how hungry he is. And Dave, Dave's just crazy. If we don't help him make it, who knows what's gonna happen to him."
So. Billy meet Garrett, who has two other bands, two jobs and sits behind a drum set that's about half the size of anything any of theAE's recent drummers has piloted. And who might be a sensational fit, when drummer and band are done trying each other on.
For now, I must say it's fascinating for a non-musician to experience the same songs to so many different beats. It's like, REEEEEE-MIX!
Jay, who you met a minute ago, paints fast. Rock 'n rolled through those tunes, baby.
Haro, who played the role of Temp Drummer No. 1, is peculiar and spacey and incredibly unique. And so were the songs, when he was keeping time.
Art, the most recent not-so-permanent permanent drummer, was solid, steady, by-the-books and never unlistenable.
And Elvin, OG drummer of the alchemist element, was wildly creative and hard-hitting and will always be a co-author of not just many of theAE's songs, but of their overall sound.
Garrett might be as close a player to Elvin as those songs have experienced since, considering splash and creativity and the fact that Garrett studied for five years with Grant Menefee, who tutored former Mars Volta drummer Jon Theodore, who majorly inspired Elvin.
Garrett's pretty polished. Dude knows, say, that it's not wise to clutch his sticks in a vice grip, but rather to hold them as loosely as possible. But that's more of a challenge in a hard-driving, heavy song than it is when he's playing with Bedroom Walls, his Indie rock project.
Which is probably why that Vic Worth stick went flying high, over Dave's head and somehow missing the spinning ceiling fan before finally landing harmlessly on the other side of the room.
Dave couldn't help himself: "The stick's about to hit the fan, man."
We'll see.
For now, theAE and Garrett are learning enough songs to play live, and planning to spend some time creating new stuff thereafter.
To find out what happens from there and in between, keep reading.
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