w w w w w w w w w mw mw -W IW lw -w- - WN -w- _W THE LOCAL SCENE Will club closures stifle ci talent. BY JOSEI KRAU T MAY BE EASY TO FORGET while the music is playing, but there is an industry at work behind the Ann Arbor music scene. Before a local favorite like Tracy Lee and the Leonards or an unknown group of University students can walk on stage, they have to work through a network of promoters, agents, and club owners. As with any industry, the local music business has gone through ups and downs. Today, judging from numbers, it's down. Three years ago Ann Arbor had five clubs offering live popular and rock music on most nights. Today it has two. While reasons for the sudden decrease of local clubs are clearly economic, insiders disagree on the pennanence of recent changes as well as what such changes mean to Ann Arbor's entertainment industry. Howard Kramer, a booking agent with Prism Productions, says he thinks that even with the demise of some local clubs, the music is still aaccessible. "If you want to go out in Ann Arbor to hear new music, there's more than enough out there even with two clubs," he said. But David Faber, the promoter for the Blind Pig until 1984, disagrees. "There isn't much competition and it makes for a frustrating situation for artists," he said. "I don't think it [the music scene] has ever gotten big enough." Since 1984, Ann Arbor has lost Mr. Flood's Party, Joe's Star Lounge, and seen the Second Chance transformed into the largely disc jockey format of the Nectarine Ballroom. Where there had once been five clubs with five separate promoters, the remaining two clubs, Rick's American Cafe and the Blind Pig, now are both promoted by Prism Productions. While there are new and significant economic factors that make it more difficult to make a profit in the club scene, owners disagree on how much those changes limit the size of the scene. Asked what changes have had the most impact on the club scene, some owners and managers mention increases in operating costs that are common to all bars. The raising of the Michigan drinking age deprived the college area of a significant share of its business. Mike Bender, manager of the Nectarine Ballroom, says liquor tariffs have nearly doubled in recent years and insurance rates - in response to stricter enforcement of dram shop laws - have gone up over 300 percent in the last two years. Others, however, suggest the changing tastes of club goers may be making it more diffcult to sustain a live music club. Kramer, who books the Blind Pig for Prism, cites a general lack of interest in new music. "The public lost interest. When the public loses interest that's what happens... If people don't know the band they aren't going to come see it," he said. Prism vice president Lee Berry is responsible for booking Rick's. "There's less of a need to have live entertainment to pull people into bars," he said. "Enough people are wiling to go to clubs that don't have live entertainment." Yet even with such a change in the business climate, others say the clubs Ann Arbor has lost should be examined case by case. Acknowledging that it has grown more difficult to make a club profitable, Joe Tiboni, former owner of Joe's Star Lounge, nonetheless suggested there were other reasons for the loss of clubs. "I think in Ann Arbor it's more a string of coincidences," he said. Referring to his own situation, where his club's site at Huron and Main was purchased for a major real estate development, he said: "I wasn't making tons of money down there. But I think I'd still be in business if I'd had a normal building on a normal block. I didn't see any trends when I closed (two years ago) that audiences were declining." Faber, who currently manages the Watusies, says he doesn't believe local concert promoters have been aggressive enough in publicizing their shows. Citing the Nectarine Ballroom, which now features only occasional live shows, he said: "To make something like the Nectarine happen you need a real dedication to promotion, which has never really happened." W ~HILE NOBK;DY DISAGREES that Ann Arbor has w.r rock and pop entertainment options than i_ did three years ago, many disagree on the effects of having fewer clubs. On the surface it would seem there are either fewer of such shows coming to Ann Arbor or that the market has drifted to jazz clubs like the Bird of Paradise and the Apartment Lounge or folk clubs like the Ark. Either way it seems to suggest a narrower range of rock and pop shows available. Kramer disagrees. "I will not agree that the diversity of music has changed," he said. "I think the quality of entertainment has not slipped. I think you still can see the best of whatever is out there." Even if the music is as available as it has been, he does acknowledge that the public has lost the ability to select between venues. "The worst thing the public loses is the ability to choose an ambiance," he said. Tiboni, for one, feels the loss of that choice of ambiance hurts the scene in subtle ways. He says that when customers no longer feel comfortable at the available clubs they are more likely to stay home altogether. "My sense is there are large segments of people that aren't going out to venues because they don't have a place they really like," he said. The reasons for the decline eventually turn into a game of "Which came first?" Did business fall off and force closings, or have closings caused business to fall off even further? L OCAL MUSICIANS, like the public, have had-to adjust. There are, obviously, fewer spots open for local talent, but Faber believes there may be a deeper loss for the local scene. One means by which a i ~0 wJ zJ band can come to national prominence, he says, is to establish a following as it moves to more and more prestigious local gigs. In Ann Arbor, the ladder to winning that following has been broken. Noting that there is now an almost unleapable gulf between the biggest local shows - perhaps weekend gigs at Rick's or the Blind Pig - and the smallest auditorium shows, he said, "There's not a progression (in Ann Arbor). It used to be you start in the small clubs and work up. Now it's stratified." As the manager of the Watusies, one of Ann Arbor's most successful local bands, Faber seems frustrated with the current scene. "Today, if you play in the Blind Pig you can get as big as the Watusies, then what?"' He says that the road to success in the music business lies even more with the recording industry than it has in the past. Of mid- '70s bands like Cheap Trick and Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band - groups that worked the circuit of clubs like the Second Chance before winning major recording contracts - he said, "These were acts that were being developed. They could see themselves, advancing. There's a different route to take now and it has to do with the record business." Berry believes the influence of clubs was never particularly strong. "I think it has always been the case that one and only one 'We get to weed out a lot -Howard Kramer of Prism Productions way to attract a label's attention is to have a big club following... a local following is not necessary." HETHER THE BANDS at the top of the heap are affected by the changes in the club scene is one question; another is what happens to the bands just starting out. Cadeau a Vous, a self-described Top-40 and jazz fusion band, played Rick's eight times in 1985 and 1986. Composed of four undergraduates, the band was unable to perform last semester when one of its members took time off from school. Since then they have h spot in the rotation of local bands. Arthur McClellan, the band's tru difficulty grows largely out of the b reputation. "We haven't gigged in a been passed around," he said. McClellan and other musicians s the club scene in fraternity parties, 4 Union's U-Club Soundstage on Tha shows of that nature, one still must "We've played fraternity parties. tough to get unless you have some McCann, adrummer for the Iodine R Dick Siegal, one of Ann Arbor's performers for almost 20 years, say,, situation would be tough for bands themselves. "I know the club owners and the (fewer clubs) hasn't been a problem people who aren't in that situatatior Berry and Kramer, who determin the local gigs, acknowledge the diffi changes in the music scene. "I feel sorry for a lot of bands be spread only so thin," Kramer said." (the current situation) is not that gre it's worth, we get to weed out a lot "We (Prism Productions) have cc a monopoly on this scene - which we do have a lot of influence and th limit new bands," said Berry. "There that want to play each month than tl calendars, but with patience spots of See LOCAL, Pa Kraus is a Daily Arts staffer. .. . a A CRITIC'S VIEW What's underground is often overlooked THERE USED TO BE a time when Ann Arbor was the music capital of the whole wide rock and roll world. Well, not really - but it might as well have been, since it produced one of the greatest bands of the post-amphetamine era, the Stooges. Trouble is, most of us were still in short pants (not even old enough for bell bottoms) when the Stooges exerted their last primal screams here. Even more troublesome is the fact that nothing of note has emerged from this place since then, more than a decade and a half later. And this is a college town, the supposed breeding ground for all that is new and noisy. What's wrong with Ann Arbor? Well, for one thing, there's no place to play. Since the 1985 closing of Joe's Star Lounge, Ann Arbor has had few venues for live alternative music, either of national or local origin. The Blind Pig is the only showcase for touring national underground bands, but it hosted only three shows of note all last semester (Circle Jerks, Sonic Youth, and Soul Asylum), none of which featured openers. To some area artists, the Pig's management appears to be more concerned with supporting the glut of homogenous beer bands that the audience can talk over (more conducive to drink-buying), rather than taking a chance on originality. This creates a suffocating Catch-22 situation: by choosing to avoid the Top 40 pantywaist route, under- ground bands alienate themselves far from the stages of the city's watering holes, thus losing both the exposure and the steady cash flow that bar bands get. The end result is that the loud and raucous pioneers are left to pitch anonymous pennies at private parties. The U-Club now devotes its time and space to dance parties of all beat measures and hair styles, and even the all-ages Halfway Inn, longtime haven for anyone and everyone with a guitar strap, has pretty much shut their doors to frequent weekend shows. So what's an uncompromising local band to do? Some of them are trying to hold local bands as their own by forming their own labels and pressing their own records, like Matt Smith of avant- popsters It's Raining, whose Certain Records label will release the band's new album this spring. Following their first two records, a 1985 EP and a recent 45, the band secured a valuable distribution deal for the tiny label, based out of Smith's house, which should aid them immeasurably in their search for college radio airplay nationwide. Also pressing their own discs (but without a distribution deal),is the transplanted Grand Rapids speedmetal-with-smarts outfit Born Without A Face. Their Crucible Records has released a 1985 cassette LP, a 1986 EP, and a new EP, Worship, to see the light of day this spring. Guitarist Mark Dancey oversees the recording, production, packaging, and distribution of the band's products, down to the lettering and layout. "That's the whole point of being independent," Dancey said. "Doing everything yourself." Rather than taking the D.I.Y. route, most bands prefer to look for a label - rarely do underground independent labels come looking for them. One outfit in search of an independent deal is egg salad children Tom Gemp, currently the hottest pistol in Ann Arbor's arsenal. Purveyors of slash, burn, and churn alien wah-wah crunge, the band has thus far struck out in efforts to gain label attention. "We aren't interested in putting out anything by ourselves," said Phil Durr, a Tom Gemp guitarist. "We could never afford it. You can't put a record out if you don't make any money. You can't even go into the studio to make a demo tape to send to record companies. The only income a band like ours has is live shows or individual input from each band member, and we haven't stooped to the level of band bake sales yet. So what do we do?" Some bands have been able to notch independent label contracts, but have had to venture out-of-state to do so, in the glaring absence of any local label of note (Tremor? Be for real). Grueling and growling grunge groovemasters Laughing Hyaenas will release a springtime LP on Washington D.C.'s Adult Contem- porary Records, following rave no- tices in Creem and the Village Voice for their devastating demo tape. Spahn Ranch, weavers of an intensely entwining tapestry of melody, will have their debut LP released on California's Insight Records this spring. Still, the great white hope of the local scene has to be that rock 'n' roll band of the approaching apoc- alypse, the Necros. Virtually ig- nored by media and fans alike here in their homebase and Detroit, the band has quietly (or is that oxy- moronic?) built up a reputation of high standing throughout the coun - try, touring the nation four times in the last three years while playing only four Ann Arbor concerts. In recent months, SPIN, Sounds, and Creem Metal have done feature stories on Ann Arbor's favorite houseguests in anticipation of the March 20th release of their long-awaited .57 Magnum opus Tangled Up on big independent /minor major label Restless /Enigma R East Coast Europe in J West Coast no performs "There' being local otherwise, town has lucrative it exposure," legend Bar always li N.Y.C.,' I block. "It's be focus our a locally, sin has garner( important town crier, received th, deal. We ws in town, bu national exj While bigger plar them to t breakthoug eye on the I See UNL BY MIKE RUBIN Ann Arbor's own egg salad children, Tom Gemp. WEEKENVFEBI UAY 13; 1987 PAGE 8 0*l 'f t, WEEKEND/FEBRUARY 3,-987 t