You’re on the verge of rock ‘n’ roll superstardom. You’re positive it’s only a matter of days until your big break. Fame, fortune, cars, girls and praise from adoring fans and drooling critics are a few small steps away.
Then your bassist decides he’s got to “do something with his life” and quits. Your drummer reluctantly inherits his family’s wedding dress business and your guitarist just “doesn’t feel the vibe anymore, man.” What’s a struggling artist to do?
Turn to the classified ads of your local alternative weekly paper and reach out to thousands of potential Hendrixes, Jaggers and Shakurs that are only a phone call away. But be warned: There are many Vanilla Ices and Sisqos lurking on the other end of the line, too.
Sean “Stinky” Morgan, 29, recently placed an ad in the Chicago Reader for a new band he’s trying to start.
“Screwface Needs You! Guitarist and bassist. Open to different types of music. Sinatra, Willie N, B Marley, Slayer, PE.”
“I’ve been playing music for 11 years,” he says as he sits in his poorly painted apartment. “I like playing in different bands but there’s always one band that’s my priority. I want to go places and do things. I don’t want to stay in Chicago forever. I’ve been here eight years.”
As we talk, Morgan is expecting a promising new guitarist to show up. “He calls himself Slim Jim,” says Morgan.
Morgan’s bloodshot eyes and laid-back demeanor indicate a seemingly eternal high. His short, sandy hair and round figure make him look suspiciously like Limp Bizkit’s Fred Durst. Morgan has a detailed tattoo of his son on his right forearm. “He lives in Montana.”Piles of cassette tapes litter his homemade music studio, which consists of a computer, a four-track recorder, a decaled guitar, a couple small speakers, an old-time miniature organ and a bright yellow whoopee cushion.
Morgan had some luck with the classifieds in the past. “It’s 50-50,” he says. “It’s free and easy. It sucks that you can’t tell if the people that answer are for real. A lot of times they could be really good musicians but they have no work ethic and no devotion. It’s very hard to find someone that’s devoted.”
He shows me book of lyrics. Among songs about girls are angry, politically-charged commentary with striking prose, “So what? / So what if I sucked a dirty old man’s cock / So What?”
“There was one guy who tried out on bass,” he recalls as he thinks of previous classified ad encounters. “His bass breaks and he goes into another room in the practice space and steals somebody else’s bass and starts playing it. Then we went to purchase some pot or whatever and we went into this really bad neighborhood and he was like ‘When we get out there, call me Casper.’ Because he was white and we were going into a predominantly black neighborhood. And I was like ‘What the fuck are you doing?’,” says Morgan, invoking an incredulous tone. “Then he left his four-track and his bass with me and he called and asked if he could get it and I gave him my address and he never came. So I got a four-track out of it.”
I talk with Morgan for a few more minutes but Slim Jim never shows up.
Preston Klik is a well-known Chicago musician who has played the town’s premier venues, including the Metro and Double Door, with his current bands, Pointy Teeth and Karma Sutra. “You called at an opportune time,” says the busy Klik over the phone. “I have an audition scheduled in a half-hour.”
His cutting-edge musical style, which combines electronica, rock and world influences, has made him a local underground celebrity. He worked with the late alterna-rockers the Smashing Pumpkins and industrial pioneers Ministry, and he still places classified ads for his own projects.
“Everybody has a circle of friends and acquaintances,” he says, revealing a slight speech impediment. “But to get outside of the self-imposed boundaries one may face, the best way is to run an ad. You can get in touch with strangers and people of all different walks of life. With ads I try to get into the circles I don’t know.”
Klik knows what he wants and he knows how to get it. “I say no almost all the time,” he says. “I think all of the people who audition don’t have a clue what it’s like to be on my side of things. I’m looking for one person and 50 people answer my ad so I have to say ‘no’ 49 times. Sometimes even 50 times. If someone auditions for me they can’t just think ‘Oh, I’m going to get it because I’m good.’ There are so many other important things. Like if our schedules match or if somebody can’t travel. And personality is certainly important.”
He may have boiled down the classifieds to a science but, according to Klik, nothing is guaranteed when it comes to music and the chemistry between players.
“Of course I wish there was a better way to find musicians but I can’t imagine it,” he says of the hit-or-miss nature of the classifieds. “If I’ve got some 60-year-old grizzled guy who looks like Willy Nelson that wants to play violin in my electronica outfit, there’s a 50-50 chance. It could be really cool or it could suck, I can’t say for sure.” nyou
