Diary of a Band: Odessa Stair

Odessa Stair, the band that other bands didn’t want to play with at recess, has been reaching new levels of popularity. Between opening up for U2, swinger parties at Feist’s house, and Pat winning Best Actor for Crazy Heart at the Oscars, there has been precious little time for diary entries.

We finished our demo and committed it to 100 cassettes in December ’09. We decided that instead of a set title, each cassette would be individually named after one of the rebus riddles you find on the caps of Lionshead, such as Sky’s the Limit or Lady and the Tramp. We learned a very valuable lesson: Never try something so stupid again. Explaining that to everyone is bad enough, but we got drunk while solving the riddles, so a lot of them are called Fuk U LOL! orPUSSYMART!!!!

People have not been shy to me about their distaste for the cassette format. “What’s next? 8-Track?” “How are you going to make money selling tapes?” “Can you put it on a CD-R for me?” Let me be blunt: If your band’s demo is on CD-R, you’re an asshole. Hold a copy of your CD-R demo in your hand and look in the mirror. If the first words out of your mouth aren’t “God, I’m a pussy,” you probably don’t even have a mouth in the first place.

We played our first Brooklyn show in January at a place called Goodbye Blue Monday. People from Philly get very impressed when you tell them you played a show in Brooklyn, as if there are at least five record company executives in every Brooklyn club at all times. Little did they know that playing Goodbye Blue Monday requires little more than signing up through e-mail. The show went well and some drunk chicky declared her affections for Dan’s belly, but she didn’t buy anything. Girls are assholes. Girls and bands with CD-Rs, man. Assholes.

I feel better than ever about this band. Creepy strangers are starting to dig us, people are enjoying the tape and we’ve got tons of new songs. I can’t wait until Odessa Stair becomes the soundtrack to your lives and is the last real thing you can hold on to in this world of pain and corporate greed. That’s when we’ll sign to Sony and take over the Billboard charts on the strength of our smash single “How’s My Dick Feelin’ (In Your Booty).” Everyone will know it as “That Song in the KIA Commercial.”

~Steve

PS: If you were stupid enough to get rid of your tape deck, you can download our tape here (Dan will give your computer AIDS if you burn it on CD-R): http://www.archive.org/details/OdessaStair-__________

PPS: We’ve got a show at the Khyber on Tuesday, April 6. Come out and see us. You check out all the other bands that get hyped on Hipsters Rarely Update This Website, so you might as well check us out too.

Diary of a Band: Odessa Stair

No matter what raw talent you and your mates possess, your band really sucks when it starts out, especially when compared to a world-class act like Odessa Stair. Your girlfriend might like your songs, but you sound like a bunch of dorks, who aren’t Odessa Stair, to anyone who isn’t emotionally attached to your penis.

The only way to get good is to play out. Performing in front of an audience, early and often, will give you and your songs confidence. But remember - you suck, so don’t shoot for a gig just yet! Find yourself an open mic and learn how to play music like a man!

We played our first open mic at Fergie’s. We didn’t play all that great, but then again, no one does. Open mics are where talent goes to die. But I’m going to give you a few pointers so you can tap all the resources you can when you play for the first time.

Be prepared to wait: We showed up five minutes late to sign-up at The Fire and we didn’t get to play until 1 a.m. By that point I was shit-faced, forgot all the words to the songs and Dan knocked the cord out of his bass. It was the greatest show we ever played.

No one gives a shit: Everyone in the audience – if there is an audience – is just waiting for you to get off the stage so their friends can play. I know it’s hard to ignore the polite, disinterested applause, but those idiots probably listen to Grizzly Bear, so fuck them.

Be observant: Self-awareness is important in the beginning. Take notes on what you do while you perform and determine if it suits your stage presence. For example, I don’t let myself get drunk before playing anymore, and therefore I no longer weep into the microphone!

Schmooze, schmooze, schmooze: This is the name of the game. Tell EVERY musician that you loved their set. Who cares if they’re still writing songs on acoustic guitar about their girlfriend leaving them for someone who doesn’t wet the bed? Pat told one singer-songwriter that he would never have sex again because no one could compare to the beauty of his songs. That singer-songwriter’s name was Neil Diamond, and now we’re opening up for him in the spring.

None of this really matters because you’re going to suck no matter what you do. You might as well just drink a ton of beer (or wine if you’re straight edge,) run around the stage and have fun. Don’t worry about how terrible you sound; you’ll never be as bad as the homeless poet who pisses himself onstage.

~Steve

Diary of a Band: Odessa Stair

Philadelphia is known for three things: cheese steaks, giving birth to the United States, and having a population full of assholes. This town goes through a lot of misery and tragedy every day. The music that comes out of here must be out of this world. It must be something that’s greasy, bloody and horrifying, but with a perverse pride that keeps you from moving to Bucks County, right?

Well, almost. Philly’s best rappers understand their home and have made some amazing psychodramas that could make you shit your pants, but our rockers stick to neutered genre exercises that betray the city’s true nature.

A lot of the motivation for Odessa Stair comes from when I started looking for musicians on Craigslist. Almost every person that contacted me was currently playing in a band that sounded like Weezer going through menopause, and Weezer already did that with Pinkerton, an album I stopped liking when I lost my virginity. How does a city so large and so crazy have such a pathetically small amount of good rock? We had to do something about this.

Every local musician should take tips from our sports fans. This is where we threw snowballs at Santa, batteries at our own mascot, chant “You took steroids!” at Manny Ramirez, and got so wild when the Flyers won their first Stanley Cup that the Flyers themselves had to fight their own fans. We should have the most disgusting, amazing bands ever!

Granted, it’s not all bad: I like Man Man, Pissed Jeans are good shit, and I thought Clockcleaner was the best Philly band ever. But for every Dead Milkmen there are tons of bands like Sunny Day in Glasgow, The Teeth, and Dr. Dog. I’d rather listen to my nephews’ Backyardigans CD than this cute, non-threatening crap. Odessa Stair has many goals, but the primary one is to knock Philadelphians out of their stupor and give them some real music to throw back at the assholes in New York, Chicago and L.A. That’s what we live for, isn’t it?

I’m not saying Odessa Stair is the ideal Philly band. The ideal Philly band sounds like Frankie Avalon played through a phaser at 78 RPM and the lead singer is some fat fuck from South Philly yelling songs about how he hates Jersey girls because they always give him crabs. But at the very least, let’s give this city something to be excited about.

PS: I would absolutely love to be proven wrong. If you know of any Philly band that would kick my ass, leave a comment.

Diary of a Band: The John Salamone Band

Dear Diary,

This week is going to be one part diary, one part bit of wisdom. This past week was my birthday so a couple of my friends, two guys who were in my old band, took me to see Built to Spill at The Troc. Let me just say it was awesome! It was the first time I’d ever seen them. I was supposed to go in ’04 but that is a story for another day. They played a great mix of songs! And the sound was mixed better than I have ever heard it at The Troc. I haven’t seen many bands live with three guitar players. Amazingly, I was able to hear each one clearly. This brings me to the topic of conversation for this week: Volume, volume, VOLUME. I have left too many shows saying, “You know, they would have been good if the (insert any band member here) wasn’t so loud.” It doesn’t matter if you have written the greatest song in the world, if you are too loud it can be awful. When one person is blowing everything off the stage it’s painful to listen to. If you want a pleasing show, aurally at least, start your volume at a moderate level. The sound guy will make sure the audience hears you. That’s what he’s paid for. Plus everyone’s head will thank you, you’ll get more repeat business, and most importantly I won’t leave saying, “You know, they would have been good if the (insert band member here) wasn’t so loud.”

beard

Diary of a Band: Odessa Stair

When Eat Our Cocks, Dr. Dog: The Odessa Stair Story is released in book stores everywhere, readers may be surprised to learn that we weren’t always the SteveDanPat line-up that girls dream about at night. There are a few former soldiers that helped turn Odessa Stair into the fear-mongering hit machine that it is now.

Doug’s an old friend of mine who has the noble distinction of being the first person to join the band, and the not-so-noble distinction of being the first one fired. Nevertheless, his enthusiasm for guitar was second-to-none. As October ’08 ended, I taught him my songs and accompanied him on bass.

I met Jonathan through Craigslist at the beginning of November. A great guitarist with an amazing sense of rhythm, he could turn my lamest riffs into garage rock anthems. He also taught me the most important question to ask potential band mates: “So, uh, you don’t do coke, right?”

I hadn’t talked to Dan in years when we met up at our friend’s sex toy party last April. The grotesque dildos on display sparked our discussion about making music that sounds like a giant rubber dick getting shoved into your eye. He took over on bass a few days later. I moved to the drums, which at this point consisted of a tom and a frying pan.

We were having fun but things weren’t… right. The greatest band in the world sounded pretty awkward, which is to be expected when half of your drum kit is used to cook breakfast. Morale was starting to dwindle. People were skipping practices or ignoring phone calls. By June, Jonathan had quit, and I decided to let Doug go. It’s never easy firing a friend, but I wanted a real drummer and I no longer saw room for two guitarists. People often see this as harsh, but that’s usually because they’ve never met a real man before.

Dan posted an ad on Craigslist for a new drummer (an excerpt: “You’re going to be part of a movement that will destroy lives.”) and only Pat was brave enough to respond. Pat auditioned with pure gusto and declared his love of trashing hotel rooms. He was the perfect fit.

I’m still friends with everyone and their influence can still be heard in the band; Jonathan and Doug have writing credits on many of our songs. I’m grateful for their help getting Odessa Stair off the ground. Without them, Hipsters Eat Soy Animals would have to find some other sap to write diary entries for free.

~ Steve

Diary of a Band: The John Salamone Band.

The John Salamone Band: Episode 3: Season 1

Why I do what I do.

Well that is a pretty easy question to answer. It’s for the love of music. That is really what keeps me going. Yeah I want this band to be my career, to record albums, go on tours, and make money. Those are definitely motivating factors, but I think the love of music gets me through the hard times. This isn’t something you can go to college for, get an internship, get a degree, and then land a job when you graduate. There are very few bands that instantly make it, that don’t have to pay their dues, as they say. Even then nothing is guaranteed. If you read my first diary you know what I’m talking about. If not then you have a little homework assignment. I dropped out of school so I could focus on being in a band. I work jobs that allow me to easily manipulate my schedule cause sometimes you will be playing a show at 1:30 a.m. in New York. These unfortunately are not always the highest paying jobs. I’ve played shows where it is just your manager, one friend, and the bartender. You know what? It’s worth it. That feeling of getting up on stage, playing songs you helped create, and seeing other people enjoying it as much as you do, well there aren’t many things that come close. My love of the music keeps me on this path.

beard

Diary of a Band: John Salamone Band

The John Salamone Band: Introductions All Around.

Yeah, I figured it was about time for you to get to know my cohorts. No long intros, so let’s just get down to business. First off there is a Mr. John Salamone, the man we get our name from, for now anyway. We will be changing the band name as soon as we find one that is suitable for us. John is an amazing song writer and damn good guitar player. He makes it easy for me to write bass lines and writes some fun ones for me to play as well. I just hope this doesn’t give him too big a head.

Then there is Nick Vacante. Nick is our lead guitar player and his solos will melt your brain. No really, at our last show this guy up front starts drooling and then, bam head hits the table. So I did what any decent human being would do. I stole his beer. What, weren’t you reading? He didn’t need it and I was thirsty and poor.

Zack Zimmer is the youngest member of our group and drummer extraordinaire. On our EP that we are in the process of recording, he didn’t use a click track. If he was ever off beat we didn’t notice it. He is also one of the few drummers that have a double kick pedal that I don’t want to break off in his… (Well, let’s keep this family oriented.)

I play bass. Yeah that is all you are going to get, except sometimes I beat on the bass like it owes me money, like a red headed stepchild. I love to play and have been doing it for a while. So that’s it. These are my friends, my brothers, my family.

beard

(The author does not endorse the beating of children whether they are read headed or stepchildren. However, if someone owes you money, that’s your business. Far be it for me to tell you how to handle your affairs.)

Diary of a Band: Odessa Stair.

I started this band because I had to. It wasn’t out of boredom or some get-rich-and-famous scheme. I’m never bored, and somehow I don’t see my music getting played on iPod commercials. Odessa Stair came to me very suddenly and has demanded my attention ever since.

I was laid off from my job on October 1, 2008. I received a nice severance package and I hated working there anyway, so I was eager for a new start. Of course, when I began searching for a new job, I realized that I was merely one of thousands of people in the same boat - people with more experience, people who went to schools that didn’t have a horse in their faculty, people who didn’t put “fuck” in their cover letters. I hadn’t received so many rejections since my eighth grade dance.

I was quickly disillusioned; this was not how I was going to find my calling. I also figured that no matter what “exciting career path” I took on, it’d still just be me sitting in front of a desk. I spent less time seeking employment and more time playing guitar. It was a nice way to distract myself from the grim job market. For the first time ever, I was writing songs. I was playing guitar for hours on end, often forgetting meals, which is a great way to cut down on grocery costs.

I was up late one night and reading about how bands like Hüsker Dü and the Butthole Surfers just hopped in a van and played music wherever they could. That’s when I felt it. It was this feeling of desperation that I had never felt before. It was no longer Playing music is fun, but Playing music is the only thing that matters. I stayed up until sunrise conceptualizing my dream band. It didn’t have a name yet, but it would be fast and wild and beautiful. This would be my life from now on. I had to find some musicians.

I sure do reek of pretension, don’t I? But look at it this way: in another year, I’ll either be living on my sister’s couch earning minimum wage, or I’ll be riding in a van through the United States. I’ll be hungry, poor, and probably developing scurvy, but I’ll be beaming from the kickass show we did in some Wisconsin basement for a fistful of Quaaludes. Good thing I’m great at making decisions.

Next week we’ll talk about band members. Who came? Who stayed? Who was too high to show up for practice?

~Steve

Diary of A Band. Odessa Stair.

Diary of A Band. Odessa Stair.

Odessa Stair consists of three men: Dan plays bass and has lived off of Ramen noodles and day-old pretzels for the past two months; Pat drums like a mutant, and he drinks like one, too; and then there’s me, Steve. I play guitar, sing, and am currently selling my possessions for a living.

As a member of Odessa Stair, I am privy to a lot of fringe benefits, like being in the best fucking band in the world. We will rip your goddamn hair out and you will beg for an encore. Put us up against any band and we will tear them to shreds. We write songs that sound like Herman’s Hermits on PCP. You know that whole thing about the dinosaurs being wiped out by a big-ass meteorite? Yeah, that was us.

If there’s something that I’ve learned since I started this band, it’s that bravado keeps you interested. With that last paragraph in mind, let’s look at some facts: As I write this, Odessa Stair’s only show was at some bar in the ‘burbs, and we often outnumbered the audience at the open mics we’ve played at. The band has only been around for 11 months, and the current line-up’s been around for three. We have a few poorly recorded songs on our MySpace and Facebook profiles. My guitar is a knock-off Flying-V from a company called “Rhapsoby” (not Rhapsody, but Rhapsoby) and my rinky-dink amp is on loan from my bassist’s girlfriend. We don’t have any mode of automotive transportation, and even if we did, Dan and I wouldn’t be able to drive it for various legal reasons. And Pat doesn’t have legs, or arms.

This evidence clearly supports the “Odessa Stair is just another “shitty band” theory. But none of these sobering realities damage the faith I have in Odessa Stair, my bandmates, and myself. I am fully convinced that we’re writing the best songs being written and playing them better than anyone else could. That’s how every band worth their salt should feel. Why bother starting a band if you’re not going to at least try to be the best?

And now, thanks to the fine people at Hipsters Drop Pants For Food, I get to blow smoke up your ass every week in this band diary! Read it, enjoy it, and if you don’t want the articles to consist of “I haven’t eaten in three days,” come to our shows, buy our crap, and send us money.

~Steve

Diary of A Band. The John Salamone Band.

Diary of a Band. The John Salamone Band.

The end and the beginning, maybe an odd way to start off but I need to take you a little bit into the past.  It’s a story of another band, which helped to bring me to where I am today, a little band named “The Red King.”

We were moderately successful a little while back.  We had a publishing deal with Sony, were about to sign a record deal, and then we broke up.  Not to mention we were a week from going to Toronto to record an album.   I won’t bore you with all the dirty details it happened let’s move on.  It did lead to a four-year hiatus, a time where I refused to deal with other musicians. It was just my guitar, bass, keyboard, and I.  Well let’s just say that can get quite boring.  So when my friend, John Salamone, asked if I wanted to play bass in his new project it took me about a day to say, ”Why the hell not.”

So that end led to this beginning, a new band just starting to get its feet wet.  Well we’ve all been here before so not completely new.  We are rebooting, starting over, looking to write some new songs and make some new stories.  You, dear reader, are going to get to live it right along with me.

beard