The Day I Went "Pro"

I have been on this planet a long time. In fact, I was dwelling on that fact today, and for some reason, I was having difficulty pegging the year (or part of my life) when a key even occurred.
I don't think that my long-term memory has gone to the dogs; there just seems to be a few periods where I just can't seem to put my young adulthood into perspective.

You could probably blame all the years of beer & whiskey, but hey, we are all allowed at least one vice.

I suppose my life has gotten a little more routine in recent history, and that might be why it seems so easy for me to peg key events in the last five years. But going back much further than that, and the memories aren't as vivid as they once were.

Curse that aging thing.

Since I earned my Science degree in 2001, and joined the ranks of the rest of the taxpaying nation, my life has become predictable. A lot of times, it feels a bit like a prison sentence. I get up every day, I work at the office for 8 hours, and I go home. Some nights I teach, other nights I might gig, and other nights I am so tired that I have no energy for a little excitement in my life.

And then there are days, like today, where a part of my youth creeps up on me, and I see the person who I was -- and that person no longer exists. It has been extinguished by bills, taxes, commitments, and routine. Today, I realized that I have been playing drums, and entertaining people for a very long time.

I began learning the drums in 1989. I purchased my first drum set with my own money, and I studied for two years. By 1992, I joined my first band, a hard rock/metal/"alternative" band with three other kids from my high school. We dubbed ourselves Hot Chocolate Boy 1 week prior to playing our first gig, and the name stuck. We played only about a half-dozen gigs, most of them were at our high school during lunch hour. We developed a "small cult following", like many independent acts, but all things must come to an end. By mid 1993, Hot Chocolate Boy had done all it could, and we disbanded.

But we had a blast. We would sit and talk for hours -- fantasize about what it would be like to go on tour, or play in front of a few thousand people, or record a hit album, and become stars.

Immediately after the demise of Hot Chocolate Boy, the guitarist and myself recruited two new players, and created a new band with a new musical direction in mind. We called ourselves The Anglers, and we felt that this band could have a lot more to offer than our last effort. We were also 1 year older, and half the band was legal drinking age. That wasn't going to stop us from attempting to play in clubs either.

Our first gig was the opening slot for The Watchmen, a major-label recording act, whom were just "breaking into the mainstream". They were playing at the local College, and we just happened to be in the right place at the right time.

Marketing was a key effort in the Anglers. We made and sold demo tapes; and we sold T-Shirts and stickers. We had a much larger following than The Anglers, and we even broke out of our city, and played a few gigs in larger centers, like Edmonton and Calgary.

We were living the dream; stardom wasn't much further away -- or so we thought.

After some time, things began to go sour, and a difference in opinion (and personality) found yours truly ousted from the Anglers. Being fired definitely left some scars, but they have since healed. I shouldn't hesitate to say that The Anglers disbanded within a month of my departure.

Like I said, the experience left a sour taste in my mouth, and I did little drumming in the next few years. I was enrolled in College, and my studies occupied a significant amount of my time. I still enjoyed drumming at home, when time permitted, but I was unsure if I was ever going to have a chance to play in another band again. I felt like I had been thrown out of the loop, kinda like a fish out of water, and my ability to network with other musicians had been smothered.

In fact, it wasn't until the spring of 1996, that I had my first formal offer to join a band. They were a few buddies of mine -- and I really didn't know they could play instruments. They told me that they called themselves Man-Made, and played me some material they had written on a poorly-recorded cassette. The music was loose, the playing was mediocre at best, but the music had the right attitude.

We likely practiced half a dozen tunes over the course of the summer, but we never played any gigs. By September I was moving away to attend University, and I treated this experience more like having fun with friends than anything serious.

Funny things happened in the Fall of 1996. I finally took the plunge, and jumped on the fledging internet bandwagon. In fact, I had to, as it was a requirement of one of my classes to have an email account. This (of course) allowed me to keep in touch with friends far away, including those in my hometown. One of these people, was DG, an acquaintance from College, who had been pestering me a number of times to get together and jam with him. One long weekend, I ran into him at the bar while I was home from University, and we discussed putting a band together. It sounded like we were on the same page when we were identifying similar artists to cover, but the defining point was when we agreed that we wanted to have a female lead singer in the band.

By Christmas break, all the pieces were in place, as DG had found all the members he wanted to include in this particular band. We practiced in his basement, and what transpired can only be described as. If memory serves me correct, we had our first practice on December 22, and by December 30, we were in a recording studio making our first demo. By the time we had finished recording the demo, we had named ourselves Left of Centre.

Sadly, the seeds of self-destruction were planted early on in the bands' history. Every single one of us fell in and out of love with the lead singer. We did manage to play a good half-dozen shows, but nearing the end of summer 1997, there was too much emotional hurt for the band to continue in its current state.

If there was a band I played in that had the best shot of getting a recording deal, this was it. It was also one of the most ambitious (and hard-working) bands I had played in. We had written an albums' worth of material in under six months -- and this was all of us pursuing full-time jobs and/or post-secondary studies. We were talented, we could write catchy songs, and we had a gorgeous frontperson. We thought we had it all, but fate didn't shine upon us.

DG and I agreed to stick together, and hopefully find a suitable replacement, but it never really panned out. I still think there were scars that needed healing -- myself included. Perhaps it was a better choice to leave the material well enough alone.

Summer 1998 rolled around, and I found myself spending my summers preparing fast-food. I clearly wasn't making enough to fund my post-secondary education, and I was considering ways to supplement my income throughout the year. I paid a visit to BA, whom I studied drums under years before, and he suggested that I open my own teaching practice. I was reluctant, but he was persistent, claiming I had the ability. In addition, he was overwhelmed with students, and he agreed to refer any students he could not fit into his schedule to me.

I decided that I would return home on weekends to teach pupils for a little extra cash. By summers' end, I began receiving inquiries about my teaching practice, and I began preparing a schedule.

It's funny how things work out. The last week of August, I received a peculiar phone call from a person whom identified himself as Dave, and asked me if I could play the drums. I figured he wanted me to teach his child, but instead he asked if I were willing to play a gig that weekend -- in Regina, a good five-hour trek away from home. Labour Day weekend was two days away, I was scheduled to work two more days at my fast-food job, and then pack my things and move away to University. I was about to tell him "Sorry, but I am committed," when he said I could make about 300 bucks in two nights, plus he would pay for gas and all accommodations.

There was no way I could make that kind of money serving burgers. I accepted the gig, and promptly called my employer to tell her that something had come up, and I would not be able to make my last two shifts of the year.

This was it: I was going Pro.

Now many people will define a professional musician as one who has a recording contract on a major label, makes millions, and has the Paparazzi sticking cameras up your ass at the most inconvenient times. I do not quite share this vision. I consider anyone, who earns a substantial percentage of their income by playing music, a professional musician. Today, approximately one-third of my income is music-related, however there were times in my life where music encompassed 100% of my yearly income. By my definition, I consider myself a Professional. Sure, I may not have fame, but fame does not come without its consequences, either.

As my story goes, I briefly met Dave one evening, and ran through some material the day prior to taking the gig. Things seemed to go smoothly -- smoothly enough to grant them some relief that there would be someone playing drums for them that weekend.

Making a (very) long story short, things must have went well in Regina, as I earned my three hundred bucks, and Dave, along with his wife/singer/bassist Arleen, asked me what I had planned for the next weekend. They were asking me to be a permanent addition to their act, ZanZee. I regrettably, had to tell them that I was involved in full-time studies at University, and I had just opened my own teaching practice. I told them I was enthusiastic about helping them out when I could, but my schedule, at the time, would not accommodate every gig they had booked.

I quickly learned that Dave & Arleen made music for a living, and they were part of a dying breed of musicians whose bread and butter came from playing in small clubs. In fact, the pickings were so slim in 1998, that they often had to travel 10 hours to their next gig. Regardless, I was excited about the possibilities that could be had, making music in bars on weekends.

We discussed dates and places, and I took a few weekends when I could. I knew they were looking for someone permanent, and they soon retained a drummer from Regina, who was able to fill most of the dates. My hopes of making any kind of money with them were soon dashed.

But fate has a funny way of turning out. The fellow from Regina ended up taking other "higher-profile" gigs for more money, and leaving Dave & Arleen in a lurch. By February of 1999, I was informed that things weren't going well between the members of ZanZee, and I re-established contact with Dave and expressed my interest in working with them over the summer. It didn't take long. By the end of March, Dave called me and asked me when I would be finished writing my exams. I told him my last exam was on April 19th. He said my first gig was April 21st.

The rest, as the cliche says, is history. I became a full-fledged member of ZanZee, and toured a big chunk of the country. I played in bars, clubs, and even festivals in front of tens of thousands of people. I gigged in nearly every joint from Alberta to Ontario. I made enough to live (somewhat) comfortably, and overall, I had a blast. I even quit University to pursue music for one year.

But that doesn't come without its consequences. It was a very hard life, and though I made enough to survive, it wasn't very profitable. It was very lonely, and I often cried myself to sleep. I missed my family and friends. Every week I was in a strange place, eating my meals alone in restaurants. I turned to the bottle for comfort in strange territory.

Yet I had the time of my life. I would not trade that year for all the money in the world. I made my dream come true. I went "Pro"; I gave it my best shot. And I can sleep soundly at night knowing that I took my talents as far as the industry would let me at the time. I was on top of the world for one long weekend, playing in front of 20,000 screaming fans, some jumping the barricades in hysteria, while I was making music alongside some of the biggest names in Rock history.

I was immortal that weekend, and one day, as I lay on my deathbed, I can satisfyingly tell myself that I made my dreams come true -- as short-lived as it may have been -- they really happened. I have the pictures to prove it. Most of us aren't lucky to make it to the top -- even fewer of us manage to stay at the top for very long. In that perspective, I am delighted that I managed to make it as far as I did.

But my career is far from over; it has just changed. There may come a time where my talents take me back to the big stage. And if that opportunity arises, I will not pass it up.

For further insight into my life as a professional musician, I documented every day in the ZanZee 1999 Summer Tour Journal. Of course, it is under permanent construction. More entries will come in the indefinite future, but I promise, it will be complete one day.