The Leader of the Band Is Tired

_{Dan Fogelberg - photo credit: Colorado Music Hall of Fame}

We toured non-stop for the last three months. Our last run as a band. “Denim” was four guys, one van, a trailer, and a lot of fast food. Our last gig before home was International Falls, Minnesota. In February. Average temperature? It’s 21°F. During the day. Yay.

But this story started decades ago at a small community college in northern Wisconsin. In the spring of my senior year in high school, I needed to find a college. I thought about being a soldier, but my music wouldn’t wait. Only one school offered a meager scholarship that late in the year, so I headed to River North Community College in Superior, Wisconsin.

I chose to major in business so I didn’t have to get up early for any science labs. Since this was a community college, that meant two years to an associate’s degree, and I would satisfy my parents. Then the songs in my soul could get out. I wanted to be in a band. All the better to try to imitate what my Dad did before he got married to my Mom. His songs are in my blood.

The school didn’t have many social activities, and most people lived in and around the small towns near the school. That meant a quiet, mostly empty campus on the weekends. So when there was an announcement that an ‘air band’ competition would be held as part of homecoming, you know I had to sign up. That’s how I met Willa, Sam, and Mateo. All four lived too far away to get home on the weekends. Sam was from Owatonna, Mateo from Ecuador, and Willa from International Falls. I was from Eden Prairie. None of us lived a short drive from campus, and we didn’t own cars.

Late one Thursday at the River’s Edge Bar, we all ended up at the same table drinking, talking about music, and eating tavern pizza. Halcyon days for sure. Then Sam mentions the air band competition and asks if we’d all like to do it. Hell yeah!

The following Sunday afternoon, we got together at my campus apartment. First thing I learned was that everyone was deep into Van Halen. The second? No one had ever played an instrument. That’s ok as it’s an air band competition, right? Well…we still needed to look like we knew what we were doing. I would sing, Mateo would drum, Sam would play guitar, and Willa would play the keyboards. We had a month to get ready. Winner takes all, a hundred bucks.

After weeks of practicing two songs, “Summer of ‘69” by Bryan Adams and “Jump” by Van Halen, we were ready. Backstage, we waited our turn as other bands did their thing. Most were pretty good. “You’re on deck!” yelled someone in charge. Willa asked me if she could help with my ‘look’. “Now? We’re about to go on!” She said, “Come with me to the bathroom, I need a mirror.” I followed her to the one bathroom, and she proceeded to put eyeliner and mascara on my eyes. I was a few beers into the evening, so I didn’t much care. After she finished, I turned around and looked in the mirror. “Wow!” She smiled. “Now you’re ready.”

I’ll spare you the details of our performance. We placed second, as another ‘band’ offered to buy a keg with the winnings and share it with everyone. They won, and they held a great party.

We didn’t see each other after graduation. I moved back home and started that band. Sam moved to Chicago, Mateo to St. Paul, and Willa, last I heard, moved to Idaho and got married. I toured for decades with the same guys. Now it was time for our final show.

We rolled up to the back of the Thunder Bar and BBQ around 2:30 pm on Friday. Snow was falling, and the place looked deserted. We walked in, shaking off the cold, and sat down at the bar. A guy came out of the back room and said, “Can I help you?” We all laughed. We needed beers and a place to set up our gear. “We’re Denim, the band for tonight.” He chuckled. I wasn’t sure why.

Then I saw the stage. About 10 feet wide, five feet deep, maybe two feet high, and the front was covered with chicken wire. Been a while since we played a place like this! Once we loaded our gear in, the band did a quick sound check and dropped our bags at the Falls Motel. Gotta love places where you can park right in front of your room door.

We got back over to the bar around 7 pm. The place was packed. Our show was set to begin at 8 pm, no opening act. “This crowd is gonna be triple G* by the time we hit the hardwood,” said Sam. (*Grinning, greased, and gassed, in case you were wondering).

The choices we made for our first set started out ok, but by close to 9:30 pm it was clear that we needed to change it up a bit. How did we know? Mainly by the number of beer bottles thrown at the stage (thank you, chicken wire!).

Every gig on this tour, we played “Summer of ‘69” by Bryan Adams. Most bar crowds loved it, and it got people up and dancing, which made them thirsty, which meant they bought more beer, and made the bar owner happy.

To open our second set, this had to be the song. Being our last set ever as a band, we held hands, said a quick prayer, then downed a shot of something nasty. When I opened my eyes, there she was. Willa. “Hey! We’re about to get back to it. Will you join us on keyboard?” She jumped at the chance.