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Calculated
Risk Sometime after 2 am the party got interesting. Chris Phillips, the drummer for Northwest Royale, stood in the living room shifting nervously from foot to foot. After playing two hours of relentless metal for a roiling mosh pit of 20- to 30-somethings at the WOW Hall, the party had moved to his house. He'd changed out of his sweat-soaked T-shirt into a plain black one. Stray pieces of coppery red hair sprung out in all different directions and faint shadows the color of slate were visible on the pale, almost translucent skin beneath his eyes.
He was smiling shyly, standing in front of a small group of people. The couple snuggling on the overstuffed couch was watching him. The guy in the chair in the corner had woken up and was watching him. The group that had been engaged in a heated discussion had quieted down and was watching him. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. At 6 feet, he towered over everyone. "Damn! I'm more nervous in front of eight people in my living room than I am in front of 500," he said. He laughed nervously. "OK, OK. This is the boy band song I just wrote. It's called 'Blue Balls.'" He sang a cappella, in a high-pitched falsetto, mimicking 'N Sync or maybe Backstreet Boys. "Girl don't give me blue balls again/ An occasional fire is all I desire/ So please don't make me sleep with your friends." The song continued for a few more XXX-rated lines and when he finished, the living-room audience was laughing, hooting and clapping.
Bye-bye day jobs Many people familiar with Northwest Royale refer to Phillips, lead singer and guitarist Colt Williams, bassist Kenny Nestor and backup boy Ethan Haskel as "Eugene's hardest working band." After five years playing more than 100 shows a year, touring as relentlessly as their day jobs would allow, networking with other bands and promoters in different cities, and building a steadily growing fan base, they're taking it to the next level. They're quitting their jobs, hoping they've built a strong enough foundation and fan base over the last five years to make it as a full-time band. It's a gamble. But more than any other band in Eugene, they've actually got a shot. "I guess what it really comes down to is that you have to be good enough to quit your day job," said local promoter Evin Marshall. "These guys have the best chance of making it of any of the bands in Eugene. They've got really good management. And their [chances] are better than most because of their work ethic. They regularly tour, promote themselves well and consistently play good shows with good bands." When Abe Nielsen first started working as the program manager for the WOW Hall he remembers Brian Smith, Northwest Royale's manager, "calling every week looking for shows." And while he thinks making it in the competitive world of rock is "just a combination of hard work, luck and talent," he said, "Those guys are just so driven that they're giving it every opportunity, every chance to happen."
Paying for the dream For Phillips, that means quitting his job as the office manager of an auto shop. Nestor, a diabetic, is giving up his health insurance and his position as manager of the produce department at a Safeway store, a job he's had for 17 years. Colt, who's had two major surgeries in the last few years and still has a tube in his abdomen in case he needs emergency surgery, will also lose his medical coverage when he leaves the title and escrow company where he works. And Ethan won't be finishing school at LCC any time soon. They just added a new member, guitarist Travis Zering, who recently moved from Grants Pass. Their decision to go on tour indefinitely also meant losing one of their band members, Blake Owens, who played percussion and keyboards. "The band is at a point where they're ready to drop everything and go, and I wasn't in a really good space where I could afford to do that," he said, explaining his decision to bow out. "I was going to be the person who would have held them back from that." They've all downsized to the bare minimum. Kenny moved in with Brian. Chris said he and Ethan will be couch-surfing at his sister's house and at Brian's, and Colt is living with his parents. "It's a really big deal for me," Chris said. "I've been working since I was 15. I've never not had a job." And now he won't get to spend much time with his son, Laine. "I told him, 'I hope you understand that I want to spend time with you, but that I've got to do this,'" Chris said. "And he's so cute. He's only 6 and he says to me, 'That's OK Dad, I understand. I just miss you.'" All four of them will be traveling in the van together, covering thousands of miles and spending hundreds of hours in its cramped quarters. "Oh my god, do you remember that one night," interjected Colt during a group interview in April at the Wetlands. "Me and Brian on the floor of the van spooning because there was no room? Don't write that! No seriously, I had to spoon with my fucking manager because there wasn't enough room." As they prepare for their upcoming tours, two 3-1/2-week treks through the Northwest and Rocky Mountain states, Brian will be staying in Eugene. Even with the addition of Travis, that's one less person, so they'll have a little more space to play Xbox, watch DVDs and sleep. "Our band is addicted to Breakin' and Electric Boogaloo Breakin' 2," Colt said. "Dude, we love those movies. We watch them in the van more than we watch anything." They've allowed themselves a food budget of $3 per person per day. "See you put all the three dollars together and that makes $12," Chris said. "You can get a lot of food for $12." "And that's coming from the biggest guy in the band," added Colt. "North of Seattle we traded a CD and some T-shirts for this huge Mexican feast," Chris said. "See, we were trying to find Jimi Hendrix's grave and we got, um, off track." "Way off track," Colt chimed in. "Anyway, we rolled into this Mexican restaurant about 10 minutes before they were supposed to close …" The story continued, with each member of the band adding their part. That easy exchange and balance between the members is a key element to their relationships. Chris and Colt founded the band in 2000 and have been around the longest. They're the tie-breaking decision makers and the main talkers, but everyone gets their say. "We get along so well because we have the same goals," Colt explained. "It's the way a marriage should be." "Um yeah, but without the sex," Kenny said. Then, with a grin, he added, "Except that we get to spoon."
Working the rolodex Every band needs a babysitter once in a while, and for Northwest Royale, it's Brian. He's a former Marine sergeant and you can't see any of these guys balking if he were standing there shouting, "Get your asses in the van." He keeps them on track, gets them places on time and makes sure they've got gigs. "Brian takes really good care of those guys," Marshall said. "He always makes sure they've got something good going on, that they've got tours and shows to do." Brian does it by doggedly networking with bands and promoters in other markets. He books an out-of-town band to open for Northwest Royale in Eugene and later, Northwest Royale opens for that band in their hometown. "It just keeps building," Brian said. "Just look at the response in the markets they go to. By the fourth or fifth show, people go just to see them. The first time 15 people come. They tell their friends. Then 50 show up." Brian is the best local manager Nielsen has seen in Eugene. "He takes it very seriously," he said. "Brian's very organized. He follows up on phone calls. And any time I need something, I don't have to worry about it getting done." Another thing helping the band is sponsorship by Jägermeister. Northwest Royale is one of about 200 bands nationwide sponsored under the Jäger Music Program. Adam Grayer, Jäger's marketing and band coordinator, said they look for hardworking bands that are big fans of the licorice-flavored alcohol, then give them Jäger T-shirts, customized shot glasses, lighters, band T-shirts with the Jägermeister logo on them, posters and other schwag. "Metal is one of the bigger genres we work with," he said. Long before Chris knew about the Jägermeister music program, he had the word "Jägermeister" tattooed on his forearm and Colt had the logo with the stag inked onto his left bicep. "When a band shows that kind of devotion to our product, it's a no-brainer," Grayer said. Because of their ties to Jäger, Northwest Royale has opened for some big names including Slayer, a band that might never consider them under normal circumstances. And according to Mike Thrasher, a Portland-based concert promoter who booked that show and books other major national acts throughout the region, Northwest Royale held their own. This upcoming tour is all Jäger bands, working together to support each other in their individual markets. "The bands that do the best are the ones that go out there and build their following like Northwest Royale has," Grayer said. But even relentless promotion and networking don't guarantee success. "It's extremely hard for a band to grow beyond a regional level without a record label and a booking agent," Thrasher said. "It makes it hard to go outside of a 100-mile radius of your hometown, and hard to get into larger venues unless the band is opening for another band. And without a label, it's hard to get those supporting slots." If Northwest Royale just wanted to get a record deal, any record deal, they'd have signed a contract a long time ago. "The odds of getting a record deal are good," Grayer said. "But the odds of survival are not." Northwest Royale is waiting for the right offer. "I'd rather be in Floater right now than the Cherry Poppin' Daddies," Kenny said. "They had one huge hit and now they're back where they were, working their way up."
Musical chairs Maybe the biggest question is whether or not Northwest Royale can keep a stable band line-up. Originally founded by Colt and Chris in 2000, six people have either left Northwest Royale or been kicked out. "The line-up changes will destroy the integrity of the band and its fan base," said Buddy America, a local musician who played with Northwest Royale from 2001 to 2002.
But to folks who know music in Eugene, the explanation for the high turnover rate is simple: "Those guys are really serious about what they do and they work their asses off," said a WOW Hall employee. "Most musicians in Eugene simply don't want to work that hard." The band had the same four members from 2003 until just a few weeks ago when Blake announced he was leaving. "It was like he dropped this bomb on us," Kenny said. "I mean, we didn't want him to go." While the loss of a core member was a blow to the band, Chris added that he felt Blake did the right thing if he wasn't ready or willing to take this next big step with them. In the meantime, they "promoted" Ethan, who used to be their roadie, into the band, a move some view as strange since he has no musical training. With wild, dark brown hair that escapes from underneath his baseball hat in a curly mop, you're more likely to see Ethan macking on a fan than loading amps these days. At a party after a show back in April (when he was still just the roadie), Ethan was standing in the kitchen flirting, then making out with a girl he'd picked up at the show. "Our damn roadie gets more play than we do," Chris said, loud enough that Ethan could hear him. The people at the party laughed and Ethan turned bright red. The other band members, Colt especially, treat Ethan like a kid brother. He was inducted into the band after he got up on stage one night and, as Kenny explained it, "Started dancing around, freaking out headbanging, shaking his crazy afro around and jumping up and down. We were like, 'That was kind of fun, we should make him do stuff.'" "See Ethan really likes being in a band," Colt said. "He gets really excited about everything, and we get to share that." "Shut up man, you're ruining my game," Ethan interjected. "We're Northwest Royale," Colt shot back, grinning. "We don't care about game." Diehard fans It was a hot night in July and outside the WOW Hall, the sidewalk was packed with tight knots of people smoking and working hard at looking tough. In the parking lot out back, kids wearing Northwest Royale T-shirts milled around, hoping they'd be able to hear the show through the open back door. In the bar downstairs, the tattooed, pierced crowd downed PBR like water. Two guys were loudly "discussing" something and the volume level in the room was rising like the mercury in a thermometer during the dog days of summer. Upstairs, as the band prepared to play, the crush of the crowd moved to the front of the stage. "They have hardcore fans," Marshall said. "They always show up wearing their shirts, they buy the merchandise and they drink. The one time I wish I had an extra bouncer and a barricade at the Wetlands is when Northwest Royale plays." In the end, it comes down to the fans: the teenagers who spend the money they make working at McDonald's on Northwest Royale CDs and T-shirts, the 20-something guys who explode into a mosh pit when the band busts out with the crowd favorite, "Drinkin' Again," and the metal chicks who "ooh" and scream and throw their bras onstage when Chris does his boy band songs about licking cream. Whether Northwest Royale goes national or maintains a strong underground cult following, it's the fans who will move them up in the world. And that fan base started in Eugene. Nielsen said the devotion of Northwest Royale's fans reminds him of "Floater back in the early days. They were always asking, "When's the next Floater show?' Now they're asking, 'When's the next Northwest Royale show?'" Northwest Royale, 9 pm, Thursday, 8/18, WOW Hall, $5. northwestroyale.com - wowhall.org |
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