The line starts forming about 4 p.m. on a weekday in the parking lot of The Thirsty Whale, a club in west suburban River Grove. The doors won`t open until after 6.
The people are in their mid-teens to mid-20s. Hair flows, and attire is combat boots, motorcycle jackets and ripped jeans, cliches of the heavy metal/ hard rock scene.
Anticipation engulfs the motley crew, like the music roaring out of several parked autos.
Are they waiting to see a big-name act? No, they`re waiting to become one.
For seven years, The Whale has offered hundreds of area bands a first chance to test the waters. And for the last couple of years, once a month it hosts an open signup night, when groups can get on a roster to perform in an upcoming month.
Many of the aspiring rock legends practice in garages or basements, producing an ear-pummeling wall of noise that can be heard throughout the neighborhood.
For a time in the 1960s, after the Beatles ascended, it seemed that every teenager with a guitar or a set of drums was forming a garage band. They dreamed of superstardom and knew that almost every influential band had followed the same path.
The dream never died, but the frenzy to put together a garage band seemed to taper off.
In recent years, however, ever-increasing lines at places like The Whale are a testament to a resurgence of such local bands: good, bad, ugly and worse. And while some parents may flinch at the music, they and the kids consider it a savory alternative to other popular youth activities: gangs, drugs, drag-racing, sex, etc.
”I`ve had parents call me every week, thanking me for providing this forum,” said Whale owner Jim DeCanio. ”The parents know where their kids are and that the kids are out of trouble. They come here for the music, not to look for trouble.”
Denise Straff, 17, a regular patron from nearby La Grange, said, ”It`s the best social scene for kids our age. It`s like our second home.” She was standing with her friend, Jessica Berry, 16, of La Grange, near The Whale`s stage on a sultry Sunday night. ”We don`t get along with our neighbors. They don`t like our music, our scene.”
A gig at The Whale can serve as a catalyst to bigger and better things, or as a wakeup call to reality.
”Some bands after hearing themselves on stage either make adjustments and continue to improve or realize they are out of their league,” said Barry Waterman, a talent buyer for Shark Enterprises in Elmhurst, who helps with bookings during The Whale`s open signups. He also is a former editor of Chicago Rocker magazine.
Other clubs, such as McGregors in Elmhurst and Prime `N Tender in Summit, showcase local bands, and each has an all-ages night, allowing minors to join those over 21. But no other club has an open signup policy like The Whale`s, Waterman said.
On this night, the club was signing up bands for its September schedule, some from Wisconsin, Joliet and Indiana. It was a slow night: 55 bands marched through between 6:30 p.m. and midnight. One night earlier this year, the club signed up 87 bands.
”The scene is huge,” Waterman said. ”It has really exploded in the last couple of years. There are so many bands out there now.”
Waterman estimated 500 to 1,000 bands in the area play gigs and countless more never play a show.
Chances are, though, that those who perform in front of crowds have felt the heat of The Whale`s lights-or hope to in the future.
”Playing there for the first time was a dream come true,” said Jerry Key, 20, of Wonder Lake, the drummer of Esion (”noise” spelled backward), whose members hail from McHenry County. ”It was something we`ve all wanted to do, just to be on the same stage as all these bands we`ve admired.”
Local bands Enuff Z`Nuff, Daisy Chain, Shotgun Messiah, Sweet Sybil and Sphinx are among those who have sharpened their riffs on The Whale`s stage.
DeCanio said he started an aggressive all-ages agenda in the mid-1980s to provide budding musicians with a forum, and, just as important, to make money. ”This allows me to stay open seven nights a week,” said DeCanio, who has owned the club for 12 years. ”You can`t make a penny when your door is shut.”
When the all-ages movement first began in the mid-1980s, The Whale had a couple of all-ages nights. But the demand grew so large that it was expanded to six nights a week. Thursday nights are dedicated to the over-21 crowd, and on Friday and Saturday nights a second over-21 show runs from 11 p.m. until 2 or 3 a.m.
Except on the weekends, when established local (and sometimes national)
acts often play, the program is usually four or five local bands playing about 45 minutes each.
The club and the music, the kids said, cut the boredom of suburban life.
”Not to rip on Skokie, but it`s not a happening place,” said Adrian Dinu, 19, the lead singer of Skokie-based Flavored Pain. ”There are no clubs, no Playboy channel on cable. It`s a tight place to grow up, almost like a retirement home. There`s nothing to do. . . .”
”So we get together and play,” interrupted the hyperactive lead guitarist of the group, Mario Licciardi, 17, of Chicago, the only member of the group not from Skokie. ”Life would stink without my band, because my band is my life.”
The road to The Whale`s stage, though, is a two-way street, and a band must do more than just sign up and show up to continue to perform there. DeCanio gives bands tickets that discount the cover charge to $4 from $5 for friends, neighbors and associates. Each ticket turned in at the door brings the band $2; for some bands, 10 people show up, for others 50.
”Bands are expected to do a lot of self-promotion,” said DeCanio. ”The bottom line is first can they draw. How well they play is second. We have some mediocre bands who bring a lot of people.”
It behooves new bands to have lots of friends, but that is not enough, said Dinu.
”Your friends will only pay to see you play the same club so many times,” he observed.
For Esion, the first taste of performing at The Whale, in May, was so inspirational that the band practices five days a week, three hours a day in the Harvard garage of lead singer Brandon Witt, 20. On a quiet night, local lore says, you can hear them across the Wisconsin border.
Hyperbole aside, the neighbors do hear the music-and sometimes take offense, especially on a song in which Witt extends his middle finger four times and screams the two words that go with it to the informal audience that gathers for the rehearsals.
That is the extent of trouble band members get into, Witt said, because on Friday and Saturday nights, the ”times you can get in trouble, we`re playing music.”
While Esion has yet to earn a weekend show at The Whale, the second rung on the ladder of success, Flavored Pain recently opened for Sphinx on a Friday night at the club.
”We`re shooting up the ladder, and no one expects it because we`re so young,” said Dinu. His younger brother, Johnny, is 14 and plays the drums. His bass player, Avie Kopernik, is 18. ”Our plan is to start playing other clubs. You don`t want to get stuck playing the same club over and over again. That`s when it gets frustrating. We need to develop a following,” Dinu said. To that end, the band, which has been together 10 months and practices in the Dinus` basement, has signed a management deal with the help of Sphinx. The band has made a tape and a press kit, which the members hope will be tickets to dates in Chicago clubs with larger crowds and better exposure.
The odds, though, are awesome, said Waterman.
”Very few bands from a scene get signed to a record deal, and even less of those ever make anything out of themselves,” Waterman said. ”About 95 percent of signed bands lose money for their label. The chances are very, very, very slim.”
That does not stop 18-year-old Junior Garza from dreaming the dream. The lead guitarist for Esion said he is a former member of a Des Plaines street gang.
Now, explained Garza, who moved to Woodstock, ”Music is everything. When I get mad, I pick up my guitar and I end up writing a song. Now I have a dream.”
