Ladies and Gentlemen...The Redeemers

by Michael Scott Miller

  By the time he got onto the bus bound for Pittsburgh near midnight, he was physically exhausted. Nonetheless, he pressed on during the ride, fighting off the temptation to sleep in favor of assembling press kits containing the three documents, along with a demo disc of the band.

  At one point during the night, Gene awoke and sat watching Bert hard at work. His head propped on one arm, he observed Bert silently. Several minutes passed before Bert looked up and noticed Gene. When he finally did, Gene looked penetratingly into Bert’s eyes and whispered to him earnestly, “You’re going to pull it off this time. You know that, don’t you?”

  Bert gave Gene a confused look, but didn’t reply.

  “I know about what happened to you back when you were at Sapphire Records,” Gene continued. Bert nodded uncomfortably, unsure how to respond.

  “I just want you to know that you have my faith,” Gene went on. “Nothing’s going to get in the way this time.”

  Bert’s mind reeled. He had often wondered if Gene knew about his less-than-illustrious past, but for obvious reasons, had never asked. “Even knowing all that, you stood by me in Los Angeles?” he now asked.

  Gene nodded.

  “Thanks, Gene. That really means a lot to me.” Bert reached across the aisle and put a gentle hand on Gene’s shoulder. “Now get some rest. We still have a lot of work ahead of us.”

  As Gene drifted back to sleep, the feeling from his warm words propelled Bert onward.

  * * *

  To the packages he created for the college radio stations, Bert clipped tickets to the show and added a handwritten note inviting the station manager or program director to attend as Bert’s guest and meet up afterward. Bert also offered to have the band call in to the radio station in advance of their arrival in the city if the station was interested in doing an interview and any pre-concert hype. Bert would follow up each offer with a phone call.

  At 4 A.M., Bert finally gave in to his drooping eyelids and drifted off to sleep. A few hours later, though, as the bus sat in the parking area of Pittsburgh’s First Niagara Pavilion, he was at it again, establishing a process that would repeat itself like the instructions on a bottle of shampoo.

  As the tour traveled from city to city, Bert made phone calls and sent tickets and press kits in advance of their arrival. He continued to build relationships, taking every opportunity to enlist anyone and everyone to make phone calls or send emails to extol the virtues of the Redeemers.

  The success rate varied. In cities such as New Orleans and Miami, Bert was received by representatives from multiple college stations, while in others, such as Memphis and Jacksonville, he was unsuccessful in making any contacts. What didn’t vary was the reception that the Redeemers received from the fans in each location. It was overwhelmingly enthusiastic, regardless of the crowd size, which followed a pattern like a corporate profits growth chart. There were increases and dips, but over time, each subsequent peak was higher than the last.

  The only thing that tempered the success was the hardship of life on the road. The bus rides were grueling, and sleep for the Redeemers meant nothing more than a series of short naps interrupted by bumps and turns, or the need to shift from one uncomfortable position to another.

  By the time the Redeemers arrived in Atlanta, the grass roots effort had achieved critical mass, and thousands of fans arrived promptly at noon to catch the Redeemers’ act. The Laguna tour, unprepared for the crowd size this early in the day, struggled to get all the concessions open across the grounds to meet the demand.

  The vibrant, boisterous crowd in Atlanta was the largest of the tour to date. When the final chords had been struck and the cymbals crashed, the band members were downright giddy.

  Bert stood at the helm as the band packed its gear.

  “So, Gene, was this how you imagined it would be?” Dave asked as he removed his keyboard from its stand.

  Gene looked at him, expressionless. “No,” he answered flatly.

  At Dave’s puzzled look, Gene’s deadpan gave way to an enormous grin. “This is way better than I ever imagined it could be.”

  “I know what you mean,” Dave said, laughing at Gene’s little jest. “Back when I was playing before crowds of a couple thousand in concert halls, I really thought that was exhilarating. Classical music was all I knew and all I ever wanted to know. But you know what? That feeling can’t touch this one. There’s an energy here, a connection with the audience that just doesn’t happen where I come from. I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, but I had more fun today than at any other time in my career.” Dave paused as a thought occurred to him. “Is this what you came back for?”

  “This is all I ever wanted,” Gene answered, his voice choked with emotion.

  “You know something,” Dave replied as if struck by a sudden realization. “I don’t think we’ve peaked yet.”

  “I have the same feeling,” Gene answered, winking at Bert. “This ride is a long way from over.”

  Late in the day, as Bert was talking to Dylan James of Emory University’s WEMY, Geoff Dowell approached him and asked if he could interrupt for a minute. He pulled Bert aside.

  The Redeemers could have heard the scream a mile away when Bert heard the news. “The main stage!”

  “The main stage,” Geoff repeated. “Your following is getting too big for a side stage. Our first act on the main stage is currently at three, so we’ll start you at two o’clock. I have someone sending updated schedules to the media for the remaining cities on the tour. Congratulations!”

  Chapter 16 – The Media Darlings

  The band was flying high when it arrived in Philadelphia in mid-August, fresh off powerhouse performances on the tour’s main stage. Most recently, aided by support from college radio stations in the Baltimore/D.C. area, the crowd in the nation’s capital had dwarfed those of any earlier show. The momentum would take another quantum leap in Philly.

  Ian Wood, a disc jockey from D-103, a local alternative radio station, had seen the band perform while scouting the show in Washington for the station. Before the band arrived in Philly, Ian had invited them to appear on his morning radio slot.

  On the day of the show, Bert roused the Redeemers at what for them was an ungodly hour and dragged them over to the station for Ian’s 6:00-10:00 A.M. slot. It quickly became apparent as music played and they spoke off the air with Ian that he was a long-time radio veteran who prided himself on spotting new acts before they became mainstream.

  The disc jockey and his guests bantered back and forth on the air, with each band member chiming in to add snippets of color to the history and the stories that had become the Redeemers’ folklore. Suddenly, the comfortable tone evaporated as the interview was interrupted by the increasingly familiar sound of Ethan’s cell phone.

  Over the last several weeks, the Redeemers had continued to notice an unusual pattern of behavior regarding Ethan’s phone calls. Most of the time, he would take the calls he received and talk openly in front of the band. But every few days, he would receive a call that, upon recognizing the number, he would either let go to voicemail, mumble quickly into the phone that he’d have to return the call later, or step outside to take the call.

  Now, as Bert glared, Ethan withdrew the phone from the breast pocket of his T-shirt, looked at the number displayed, and quietly excused himself from the studio to the astonished looks of his band mates. He stepped outside the sound proof door and could be seen talking animatedly into the phone while the others continued on air with Ian Wood. The station had cut to a commercial by the time Ethan returned.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Charlie and Dave hissed at him from opposite directions.

  Ethan jumped back. He began to offer an explanation, but Ian pointed to the “on the air” sign and signaled with his hand that they would be back on in five seconds, sparing Ethan for the moment. Bert hurriedly whispered to the group, “Drop it! We can discuss it later,” managing to get the last word out just as the sign lit. />
  The rest of the interview went uneventfully, and Ian went on to plug the Redeemers throughout the rest of his show that morning, as well as announcing that he’d be there that afternoon at 2:00 to catch the live performance.

  Once outside the station, the Redeemers were all over Ethan again.

  “You can’t just walk out in the middle of an interview!” shouted Bert in a rare loss of composure.

  Ethan shrugged. “It was just a few seconds. I’m sure no one listening even noticed.”

  “That’s not the point,” Bert responded. “Ian noticed, and we all noticed. It’s just not respectful.”

  “I’m sorry, but I had to take that call,” Ethan replied.

  “Who were you talking to?” Abe asked hotly.

  “I can’t tell you right now,” Ethan answered. Seeing that this answer would not satisfy the angry mob, he went on. “Look, it’s something personal. I promise I’ll tell you when the time is right.”

  Ethan’s cryptic response ended the conversation, but the band members’ curiosity about Ethan’s behavior lingered. Later that day, when the band was tuning up its equipment and Ethan was momentarily out of earshot, Charlie raised the question that was on everyone’s mind. “What do you think is going on with Ethan?”

  All eyes turned to Charlie, but no one spoke.

  “I mean, we all agree he’s been acting pretty strangely these last several weeks.” Charlie paused. “Do you think he’s trying to get out?”

  “Get out where?” asked Dave.

  Charlie replied, “I don’t know. Maybe he’s trying to strike his own deal with –”

  “Edgar!” exclaimed Aaron, cutting Charlie off mid-sentence.

  “Hmm,” Charlie answered, his eyes widening. “That hadn’t occurred to me, but that’s a possibility, isn’t it? I was thinking maybe it was someone from the tour here, a promoter, a record label…”

  Bert jumped in. “I think your imaginations are running away with you. Give the kid some slack. It could be anything: family issues, girlfriend trouble, who knows?”

  Bert cut himself off as he observed Ethan approaching the assembled group.

  Ethan shifted his eyes from person to person and noticed that all were looking at him. “What’s going on?” he demanded.

  Abe, who had been silent during the most recent discussion, now blurted out with his usual lack of diplomacy, “These guys here think you’re trying to find another gig for yourself.”

  Ethan looked stunned. “Why in the world would you think that?” he asked, looking from face to face.

  At first no one answered. Finally, Bert spoke. “It’s nothing, Ethan, really. It’s just that some of the guys with active imaginations noticed that you’ve been making a lot of phone calls in private lately.”

  Ethan laughed and shook his head. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.” He then called over his shoulder as he walked back to his guitar. “You couldn’t be further off base.” He laughed again, but elaborated no further.

  * * *

  With the support from D-103, the audience for the Redeemers once again eclipsed the band’s previous record. What had started as a zephyr had now reached gale force as the Redeemers tour blew across the northeastern United States. Throngs flooded to see the band at its next stop in the Meadowlands in northern New Jersey.

  The escalating success, however, was moderated in Bert’s mind by the reality that the tour was down to its last few days. The desperate and disjointed nature of the group meant that time was not a friend. The members of the band had managed to largely block the outside world as they reveled in their success on the tour, but with the tour’s end staring them in the face, they were beginning to show signs of anxiety regarding what would happen next, and Bert offered no answers.

  He offered none because he had none. Sure, Bert could take them back to San Francisco after the tour and continue to grow the fan base there. But that seemed like going backwards, and too much had already been invested to do that. Maybe he could take the band on the club circuit around the country; but with Labor Day looming, signaling the end of summer, maybe Ethan would tell him he was starting back at school in September, and maybe Dave’s family would draw him back to his teaching position. On more than one occasion, Bert had overheard members of the band talking about looking forward to going home.

  The more Bert contemplated the situation, the more he realized that this was it. He had started skiing down the mountain, and he could navigate a brilliant and dramatic run to the bottom or he could end up in a crumpled heap, but there was no turning back and no stopping. He would need to find a way to push the Redeemers to the finish line now. When the band reached Buffalo, the last stop on the tour, the sole measure of success would be whether the Redeemers had attracted the attention of the major record labels.

  Bert also realized that he needed to maintain perspective. While the groundswell of fan support was electrifying for the band, the reality was that the attention they had garnered to date was still largely underground. The band had a big following among the crowd that was in tune with the music scene, but there was as yet no recognition from the industry establishment.

  Bert had been approached a few times on the tour by representatives from some of the small independent record labels that handled the other bands. Flattering though it was, Bert knew that contracting with one of these labels would leave the band with too steep a climb.

  As the tour progressed, it had become keenly apparent to Bert that it would take the media to send the band into hyper drive. Finally, in New York City, the constant barrage of press releases, the furious assault on the media outlets, day after day, in every city on the tour, and the band’s mounting success combined to produce a return. An entertainment writer from the New York Daily News was covering the show at the Meadowlands. Bert and the Redeemers were miles outside of New York City on their way to Boston by the time the paper hit the streets. But the writer reviewing the Laguna show for one of the largest newspapers in the country had raved about the upstart band from San Francisco. The fuse had been lit.

  * * *

  The summer sun was already burning brightly when Bert stepped off the tour bus and started making his way to the Brockton Fairgrounds outside of Boston. Bert was going through his morning ritual of stretching out the muscles of his back, which were sore from the night after night on the tour bus, when he was interrupted by the musical tone of his cell phone.

  “Bert Ingram here,” he said into the phone.

  “Hi, Bert Ingram. This is Christian Alexander from the Boston Globe. How are you this morning?”

  Bert quickly shifted into sales mode. “How could I be better? I’m in the glorious city of Boston, it’s a brilliant day, and if my guess is correct, I’m talking to a writer from one of the most prestigious newspapers in America. What can I do for you?”

  “That’s a terrific answer!” Christian responded cheerfully. “As you guessed, I write for the Globe and I’m covering the Laguna show today. I was scanning the net and I saw the review from the New York Daily News this morning. I assume you’ve seen it?”

  “Actually, I haven’t,” Bert responded. “We don’t have web access on the tour bus, and we were on the road all night. Were they kind to us?”

  “More than kind. They were downright ebullient. They predicted the Redeemers to be the ‘next big thing’.”

  “That’s awfully flattering,” Bert replied trying to sound humble but unable to conceal the joy in his voice. The sparks were beginning to catch. “Would you like to talk to us after our set today?”

  “I’d love to. If it’s all right with you, I’ll meet you behind the stage right after the set.”

  “You’re on,” Bert replied.

  The band was abuzz when they learned that not only had they made the New York City newspaper, but they were about to be visited by the Boston Globe.

  Later that same day, after the Redeemers had concluded their show and the interview with the Globe writer, the news
got even better. Bert’s cell phone rang and he found himself talking to Catherine Horn, the scheduling director for USA Daybreak. The Redeemers were being invited to appear on the show! Catherine had seen the New York Daily News story, and one of her colleagues had attended the Meadowlands show and thought a segment on the band would be great.

  “Would this coming Tuesday work?” she had asked. Bert, of course, had told her that would be perfect.

  If the band members were charged up about the Boston Globe interview, they were downright delirious when Bert announced the USA Daybreak invitation.

  “National television!!” shrieked Aaron.

  “I can’t wait to call Ann and the kids!” said Dave. “They will be thrilled.”

  “This is pretty cool, I’ll admit,” said Abe, the resident cynic. “But then what? The tour still ends Saturday, and then we have the TV show, but we still have nothing lined up after that.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” said Bert with a smile. “Never underestimate the power of the media. We’re reaching the masses in New York and Boston. Next week we’ll touch people across the entire country. I have a feeling our dance card will be filling up faster than we can dance. Once that happens, the record labels will be beating down our door.” Bert’s speech sounded so good, he was starting to believe it himself.

  * * *

  The Laguna tour had a scheduled day off the following day, so the Redeemers were able to stick around in the Boston area long enough to see the Globe’s glowing review of the concert and particularly the Redeemers’ set, published next to a story box on the band. The article would prove to be black gold.

  Later that day, Bert pondered how to reach the record labels as the tour caravan pulled out of Brockton and made its way to Syracuse. Bert was unaware that the Globe article had made it onto the news wire until his cell phone rang with a call from a local television station in Buffalo. A news reporter there was being assigned to do a brief feature on the Redeemers when they played there on Saturday, and he wanted to ask a few questions.