Twenty years ago.
2005
It is difficult to comprehend twenty years ago. I had a very interesting year in 2005. From working at a music school to a guitar-lessons-for-the-blind studio project, to going to Miami to play our biggest show ever.
Music school.
The promising ventures of being in on the ground floor of a brand new music school, was a short-lived fiasco. "All About Music" was a small music school located in the Lee Road shopping center, conveniently located two doors down from the former Sam Ash music store. At the time, Sam Ash had ceased all teaching programs, for reasons only known to upper management. I had been teaching independent lessons for about four years since being kicked out of Sam Ash as a teacher in 2001. I mostly did in-house lessons; but I also did lessons at my buddies church. I wanted to be closer to the music store so that I could easily recruit new students for lessons. What better way than to be teaching at a music school, right next door to a music store?
A lunatic, drug dealer by the name of Danny B. (I won't use his last name for this article), owned All About Music. He hired me to pick up extra guitar students for lessons, and cover any teacher call-outs. A few weeks into this, I learned that Danny was planning to open another music school on the east side of town, near the other Sam Ash location. He wanted me to head the guitar instruction department. I would have all guitar students scheduled on my roster, and I would also manage anything to do with guitar lessons. This was almost too good to be true.
The second school opened and we waited for the onslaught of brand new students. That onslaught took a while to finally get going. However, the promised barrage of new students turned out to be a gross miscalculation. The Sam Ash music store near the second location had been struggling to stay in business for a few years. I remember walking into that store many times. I looked around and saw that the store was almost always nearly empty. Weekends were somewhat busy, but afternoons during the week were truly sparse. How were we supposed to get a bunch of new students provided to us from that music store, when there aren't any potential new students in that store? Danny had made a huge mistake, and we were about to find out just how desperate he was.
I walked into the school one afternoon and saw the manager, Bill. He stared at me. I could see that he had something he was going to tell me. He said, "Well, no paychecks this week." Turns out, Danny heisted the payroll and took off for Vegas with the loot. I stopped in my tracks. I asked all the questions, and Bill had very little information. Other teachers came in and everyone was told what had happened. I think we closed the store and told everyone that lessons were postponed. I don't remember how it happened, but we were all asked to resume our lessons the next day, and that we would all get paid in full the following week. The next payday came and there were no paychecks. Danny had stolen the second payroll.
I called every parent, every student I had at that school, and I told them that I was no longer going to be teaching at that school. I offered my in-house lessons, and most of them agreed to do lessons at their homes. I ended up losing well over $500.00 in two weeks. That money was stolen from me and I never saw another dime. I heard rumors that Danny had been using the school location as a front to sell drugs. The executive airport was right next to the school. I also heard that Danny got busted and went to jail for a while. These are rumors, and I don't know if they actually happened. However, I am inclined to believe them as they seem to be the only explanations we were given.
Teaching the blind.
In June of 2005, I was recruited to be part of a brand new venture in teaching the blind how to play the guitar simply by listening to compact discs. "Talking Tabs" was owned by wealthy philanthropist, Mark Hara. His endeavor to create the concept of teaching the blind how to play the guitar, simply by listening to audio CD's, was inspired by his blind son, Jared. Mark appointed Abdias Garcia as his manager. Abdias's job was to recruit as many qualified musicians as possible, to become part of the program. Abdias worked as a drum teacher at All About Music, so he knew me well enough to ask me to be part of this new project. I gladly accepted.
I was hired to make a $500 per week salary. This meant that if I worked 30-40 hours, I got paid the $500. If I worked 50-80 hours, I still got paid the $500. Initially, my job was to record many of the guitar and bass tracks for the audio project. All I had to do was simply play the music and I would get paid. Unfortunately, as the days went on, dramatic changes would be made to turn my participation in the project into something completely different.
Mark was the cheerleader and Abdias was the would-be coach. I do not believe that either one of these individuals knew what they were getting themselves into by hiring a bunch of mostly out-of-work local drug-addled musicians to spearhead an audio software project. Nobody knew how to put this project together. I inadvertently came up with the idea of using a tablature program to write out the music. I was also the only individual who was good with words. Somehow, I got pigeon-holed into becoming the project secretary. I was somehow placed into a situation where anything and everything that had to be typed, written or printed off, was suddenly all in my lap. This was not what I got hired to do. I did my best to push through.
I was all about integrity and doing the right thing. When lunch time came, I ordered a pizza delivery to the studio. Everyone else who was part of the project, took off and went to lunch. I ate my pizza and continued to work on my part of the project. Everyone else would be gone from the studio for well over an hour. Sometimes, they'd be gone for two hours. No work was getting done. Why did they need two hours to eat lunch? Well, not only did they eat lunch, they also stopped to get stoned on pot. I could smell it as soon as they all walked in. Mark was completely oblivious to any of this. I protested to Abdias, but was immediately dismissed and criticized for not being a "team player". It was time for me to move on.
I called Mark and told him everything. He and I met and walked to a bench near the lake on his property. We sat and talked. I threw everyone under the proverbial bus. I was pissed off. I had nothing to lose. I told him that he made a big mistake in hiring Abdias to manage the project. Ultimately, Mark sided with Abdias after spending untold hundreds of thousands of dollars on studio gear. Most of which was much more than we would ever need for the project. I told him that the project itself was misguided and lacking focus. Teaching blind people how to play the guitar or any instrument, requires hands-on learning that simply could not be conveyed or accomplished in a mere audio CD. Mark had an emotional attachment to the project because of Jared. He was not going to listen to reason from me. So, he wrote me a check for two weeks, and I drove away.
I found out later that year that the project ultimately collapsed because of everything I had said. Mark learned a very expensive lesson in dumping so much money into a project that simply couldn't ever become a reality. Mark and his family moved from Winter Park, Florida to California where he would die at the age of 59 years, from a heart attack. Jared has since become a musician and still keeps in contact with my good friend and band mate, Mike Walker.
The last gig.
Mike and I had been band mates since the middle 1990's, when I joined his project, World Wide Tribe, sometime around 1997. That project disbanded in 1998. Mike and I joined another local band in 1999 called Jayla. We were mostly brought on as hired guns to replace the others who had left the band. In 1999, Mike introduced me to one of his students. Peter Brunton was from Scotland. He was an incredible singer-songwriter. So much so that it grabbed Mike's attention. I came out to Mike's house one night. Peter sang some of his songs. Mike called Gary Moffatt, a local well-known drummer who Mike had worked with back in 1994 on a WWT studio project. Suddenly, we had a brand new band. We actually called ourselves "Rule of 7". We had numerous rehearsals and we even played several local gigs around Orlando. In 2002, we went into the studio and recorded our first four-track CD. We sold all of those CD's and went back into the studio and recorded another six-track CD. We released that CD in 2003. Priorities in the band began to change the motivation and the drive. By the end of 2004, the band was mostly done.
I think it was August or September 2005 when I got a call from Peter. He asked my permission to send a promo package demo to the Grammy Academy of Music in Miami, as a last ditch effort to maybe revive the band and get some recognition. My first questions were, "What did Mike say? Is he on board?" Peter told me that Mike had already agreed. All I needed to hear was that Mike said, "yes". So, I said "yes" too. Gary also agreed.
Sometime in October, Peter got the call from the academy, that Rule of 7 had been chosen to come to Miami to play a showcase at a large venue, along with five other artists. The showcase would have several record labels and A&R people there to see and hear all of the artists who were chosen out of over 230+ contestants. The band got together twice in November for rehearsals of two of our songs. The tension was palpable. We hadn't been together as a band in over a year. A lot of things had been said and a lot things hadn't been said. Regardless, we still had to push through and do our collective best. We would eventually find out that the other five contestants would include another other band from Fort Lauderdale, and four pop singers.
I remember listening to the other artists online and thinking, "These kids aren't even in the same league as us." Something seemed strange. It wasn't like we needed to prove ourselves as band at some battle-of-the-bands showcase. We were all seasoned professional musicians who had long since paid our dues. The one and only reason we were even considering doing this showcase was because we were told that there would be talent scouts, A&R people, record labels - anyone who could hopefully sign us. To me, this was my dream finally coming true. I imagined all the years of hard work, practicing rehearsing, gigging, traveling, etc - all finally paying off with a signed contract to become rock stars. Let's just say, I was idealistic.
On October 24, 2005, Hurricane Wilma swept a colossal path of destruction across south Florida. In the wake of this storm, showcase management were informed that none of the record labels were going to send any of their representatives to south Florida for fear of another hurricane. This decision was completely based on fear and selective ignorance. It was also kept a secret until we actually showed up at the venue. Everyone who was to perform, was told that none of the labels would be there to see the showcase. This took the wind out of the sails for everyone there that night.
Before it was our turn to go up on stage, we, as a band, agreed to play the best show we would ever do; and show these people what it meant to be pros. We weren't going to take any prisoners that night. The first four performance took place to mediocre review. The band from Fort Lauderdale played just before us. They got off stage jumping, laughing, high-fiving each other. They were proud of their performance. We shook their hands and congratulated them for a job well done. They had no idea what was about to happen.
Each band/artist was allowed 8-10 minutes for their performance. Yeah, we were no longer playing by their rules anymore. We took our time with each song and played 15 minutes. We slaughtered the house. We were hell-bent on playing like we had never played before. The crowd went wild! Every crew and sound guy next to the stage said, “You guys won this.” We left the stage to await the judgement. We saw the guys from the other band. All of their mouths were wide open in disbelief of what they had just witnessed. They all said to us, "You guys won this. Hands down, you won this." I think that secretly, the four of us already knew this before we even got to Miami.
Several minutes went by as the judges decided the fates of the top three contestants. Third place went to one of the female singers. We waited... Then it came across the speakers, "In second place..." Then they named the band from Fort Lauderdale. We won! Rule of 7 won the 2005 Grammy Academy of Music showcase. We beat out over 230 other artists.
It was somewhat of a hollow win though. We didn't go down to Miami to prove ourselves to a bunch of people who had never heard our music before. We went down there to take one last shot at the original dream of becoming a real recording, performing, soon to be famous rock band. All we wanted was for one person to see and hear us. One person who could change the destiny of this band, but it just wasn't meant to happen. Instead, we left with a bunch of door prizes.
The drive back to Orlando was relatively quiet. Nobody wanted to admit that this was probably our last gig as a band. As time went by, Rule of 7 was no more. I don't think any of us truly anticipated leaving at the top, but that's exactly what we did. We won this huge performance showcase, and then we disappeared. I have learned over the past twenty years that blaming anyone just doesn't change the outcome. Opportunities were missed, decisions weren't made, and ultimately, we were all destined to go our separate ways.
I keep in contact with the guys, through social media. The last time I saw Mike was ten years ago. The last time I saw Peter was the last time I saw Gary at a funeral. Gary's wife, Mary died on July 22, 2012 from lung cancer. She was 49. Mike went on to get divorced, remarried and raise his only son, Dakota. Peter and his wife have raised two kids. Gary moved to New Smyrna beach and is engaged.
2005 seems like a lifetime ago. Facebook wasn't even known yet. Myspace was popular at the time. Smartphones and social media hadn't even begun yet. It was truly a different world then. I was 42 years old in 2005. I thought that I was getting old then. I miss those days, very much. I miss my brothers, my gang and the incredible music we played together.
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