[Article] Band Aid in training Options

[dangum]

I found this article from 2003 while I was looking for the Matt Gracey interview. It's about a reporter who spent some time with the band on their tour bus.

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Band-aid in training
The Road Less Traveled

By Linnea Brown

Published: Tuesday, April 8, 2003
Updated: Sunday, February 15, 2009 19:02

"You're stayin' on the bus and ridin' with us to Norfolk," Live vocalist Ed Kowalczyk asked, throwing a friendly arm around my shoulder. "C'mon, just take a couple of days off and we'll stop in Virginia and buy you a toothbrush, tampons ..."

The rest of the band laughed good-naturedly and joined Kowalczyk in his plea.

This is it, I thought. I've died and gone to heaven.

Last Saturday night, I hung out with the four members of Live - my favorite rock band of all time. After 10 years of religiously annoying boyfriends and roommates with my constant addiction to their music, I felt as star-struck as Penny Lane in "Almost Famous."

I've never been so tempted to become a "band-aid" in my life.

My surreal glimpse at rock stardom began in the CityWalk parking garage last Saturday evening, where I struck up a friendly conversation with a lost, bewildered-looking family who, like me, was attempting to catch the Live concert at Universal Studios.

"I'm a journalist," I announced, feigning importance. "I'm covering the Live show."

"Oh, yeah? I'm the band's manager, David Levin," the father replied. "Wanna come backstage and meet the guys?"

Whoa. I felt like I was being handed the key to meet God himself ... or at least Elvis.

The next thing I knew, I was wearing a neon-yellow VIP wristband and standing backstage as Live performed. A huge crowd of sunburned, enthusiastic theme-park guests jumped up and down and sang along to all the band's oldies-but-goodies ("Lightning Crashes," "I Alone," etc.).

A few long-haired, VanHalen-ish rock-and-roll types watched from the other side of the stage.

Unfortunately, the Levin family promptly left the performance halfway through the show when their youngest child threw an exhausted temper tantrum, leaving me alone in my quest to meet the band.

When Live finished playing, I watched carefully as three giggling groupies followed them into their trailer, shutting the door behind them. Determined to gain access to the trailer myself, I started chatting with the only person Levin had introduced me to before leaving - Matt Gracey, Live's boyishly charming, ruggedly tattooed tour manager.

Twenty minutes later, Gracey was announcing my presence in the Promised Land.

"This is Linnea," he stated, swinging open the trailer door. "She's a friend of David's."

Lead singer Kowalczyk, sporting his trademark shaved head, a worn T-shirt and Lenny Kravitz-ish, rock-star sunglasses, waved distractedly from his position on a couch.

Two of the groupie girls, both in trendy, low-cut peasant shirts and jeans, were sprawled lazily across Kowalczyk' lap. Shooting me blank glances of annoyance, the girls attempted to regain Kowalczyk's full attention as I entered the room.

"Let's go party," one whined, twisting a temporary blonde dreadlock around her finger. "I want to go dancing at CityWalk."

"OK, let's go have a shot," Kowalczyk conceded gleefully. "Matt, we're going out."

"No, we're not," Gracey argued. "You know what'll happen - we'll wind up staying there all night, missing our show tomorrow and owing the venue 6,000 bucks for not showing up."

Apparently, this had happened before.

I accepted a Coors Light from Gracey and cautiously plopped down on another couch next to mohawked guitarist Chad Taylor, who peered at me with friendly interest from behind his beer.

Taylor turned out to be very nice. And flirty ... and probably drunk. But who cared? I loved him for letting me invade.

For the next hour, I chatted with Taylor about everything I could think of.

Eyeing his wedding ring - and the groupies that had swarmed Kowalczyk - I gingerly asked Taylor about his wife in Pennsylvania.

"She deals with it," he said darkly - clearly hating the topic. "We make it work."

Before I could ask what "it" was, Kowalczyk drunkenly interrupted. "We're all getting on the tour bus to have a beer before leaving," he dictated. "Come chill for a while."

Much to my inner delight, the two doormat girls on his lap decided to leave. So I piled on the charter bus with the four band members, Gracey and the last blonde-haired groupie girl - feeling extremely cool.

I was greeted by a gray-haired, hippie-ish bus driver named Bobby, who was wearing pajama pants and looked like he had probably been in a band himself in the Sixties.

The whole thing was very "Almost Famous."

The back half of the tour bus contained the guys' foldout beds and a kitchenette. However, the front half was set up like a posh living room, with couch-like lounge seats, tables and a big-screen TV.

We all sank comfortably into the lounge seats as the band guys laughed at each other's tipsy attempts to get my name right.

"Lana-bean," bassist Patrick Dahlheimer slurred, as the blonde girl nestled her head onto his lap.

"It's Linnea," drummer Chad Gracey - Matt Gracey's cousin - corrected him, smiling at me.

"Lerona," Kowalczyk stated. "Leeona."

"Lin-nay-yah," Gracey repeated, annoyed. "Her name is Linnea."

I suddenly recalled the wise advice that Mrs. Levin had conspiratorially given me earlier that evening.

"Talk to the drummer," she said. "He's the most down-to-earth ... and he's the single one."

So I took Levin's advice, and spent the next hour bonding with both Chad and Matt. Besides being good-looking, the Gracey boys also seemed to be the most respectful, the least drunk ... and the most interested in anything I had to say.

For some reason, flirting seemed a lot cooler when it came from guys without wives.

"I think we need to go to the drug store," Kowalczyk suddenly yelped. "And Linonee, we'll stop and get whatever you need for a few days on our bus."

I actually considered it. Live, after all, was my favorite band ... and I do have a thing for musicians.

But I also have a life. And being a "band-aid" just didn't fit into it right now.

When it was time to leave, the bus dropped the blonde woman and I off at the Hard Rock Hotel. Remembering that my car was in the CityWalk parking garage, Matt slipped me $10 for a cab, and I exchanged numbers with both of the Gracey guys.

Each band member hugged me, and Kowalczyk made a big display out of giving me a huge, sloppy kiss on the cheek.

Dazed, I waited for the blonde woman to finish making out with Dahlheimer, and we trekked up to the lobby together in silence.

"So, where'd they pick you up?" I finally asked.

"I'm his wife," she replied icily.

Ouch.

I guess I'm the groupie, after all.

[Source:] http://www.centralfloridafuture.com/2.1067...=2#.T_F0tPWNffI

[Badman]

This has honestly been going on for at least 10000 years. Because of patriarchy, polygyny, and patrilocality (not to mention male-only inheritance and women-as-property status) men have been above women in societies. Thus women have been throwing themselves at higher statused men so that they (the women), and their possible children, get the benefits. It doesn't make it morally right but it does make it not surprising. This goes on in most rock bands judging from the backstage antics of other bands I have read about.

I'd insist on STD testing too.

This post has been edited by Badman: Jul 3 2012, 11:20 am