Rock 99 - Chapter 6
By H.G. Miller
Between Sets
Back in the early days, it was an easy fifty bucks. Since then, Andy's agent
had negotiated a much better deal for him as a “personality” but he rarely felt
the money was worth the hassle.
He hated dive bars, and he hated concerts with no-name bands that would always
be no-name bands, hawking independently-produced CDs and homemade t-shirts to
the same group of teenage groupies who had nothing better to do than support a
local band with a singer they wanted to sleep with and songs that “meant
something.”
Like most of the DJs at The Rock 99, Andrew Davis no longer cared that his job
sounded cool. He just wanted out. Unfortunately, the only thing working at a
radio station prepared you for was working at a radio station. Andy wasn't
good-looking enough to make it in television, and he lacked the motivation
necessary to write the novels and screenplays he knew were inside his head if
he could just sit down and type.
So, he did his little song and dance number with Zap in the mornings and wasted
his evenings at events like this one:
Sal's Shack in Pasadena presents the Battle of the Bands! Every Thursday night.
Come see the bands on the cutting edge of the cutting edge. Hosted by Andy D
from the Zap and Andy Show on The Rock and presented by Mastercard!
(or
Budweiser, or Sprite, or whoever the promotions people could finagle some money
out of that week...)
Andy's job was to emcee the event. Throw out some t-shirts and CDs before the
bands hit the stage and make a few jokes.
Some group that called themselves Mother's Dying Wish just finished a set of
the absolute-worst death metal he'd ever heard. And, Andy knew death metal.
That was his “Let's Get Nailed” show that aired during the 3 a.m. slot on the
Arizona State University college radio station.
That was the semester before he met Jackson “Zap” Hammond and began the
partnership that would eventually propel him to the front of this intoxicated
crowd at Sal's Shack in Pasadena.
“Hey, Andy,” Peter Valducci, the proprietor of The Shack asked.
“Are we doing a live cut-in tonight?”
“No,” Andy checked his notes. “Mastercard wouldn't foot the bill for it.”
Peter was a stout Italian individual who may or may not have had mob
associations during his tenure in New York. He currently ran this bar, and two
restaurants in the recently-constructed Old Pasadena Shopping District. He
seemed unfazed by the revelation that he wouldn't be getting a free plug on the
air tonight.
“Just wondering,” he said. “I heard there was some crazy shit happenin' down at
the station today.”
“What, did Old Man Watley off himself on the air?” Andy asked jokingly.
“Na, just took over Wolf's afternoon show and started ranting about 'free form
this and free form that.'”
Andy, of course, didn't believe him at first. In his head flashed a meeting
he'd had with Mr. Watley about three years ago. They were discussing Andy's
flagrant use of the word “ass” on the air and the old man had gone quiet for a
moment.
“I don't really mind it,” he'd told Andy. “FM radio used to be about daring and
different…”
Andy remembered getting uncomfortable as the station manager spoke briefly
about the freedom radio was supposed to provide, and how it was an art form
that could change people's minds, not something corporate that a computer play
list was supposed to keep churning out like some factory assembly line.
Watley had snapped out of it and told Andy to just be more careful. There were
FCC regulators calling him and threatening fines.
“He did what?” Andy asked Peter.
“Took over for Wolf.”
“What happened to Wolf?”
“Got me. Haven't you heard anything this afternoon?”
“I don't listen to The Rock anymore than I have to,” Andy told him.
“Hmm,” Peter shrugged. “Maybe you should start. It sounds like it's getting
better.”