Paul Westerberg of The Replacements famously wrote, “Growin’ old in a bar, ya grow old in a bar” in his 1985 song “Left Of The Dial.” I spent fourteen years of my life proving him right in an effort to become a successful musician.
When I first started playing out in clubs, MTV had just begun it’s climb into the public consciousness, and the music industry as a whole was under yet another name revival called “New Wave.” There was plenty of excitement and reason to believe that I, too, could have a place in this glamorous scene. My hometown of Colorado Springs mostly catered to country rock and what would now be known as “Classic Rock.” There was also a burgeoning “Hair Metal” scene in the works, and there were dozens of places for bands to play. The money was decent.
When you first started playing in a club, they would hand you the off-nights like Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday where you would ply your trade to half empty houses. To be fair, sometimes you would have some pretty good crowds even on those nights, which was a testament to the popularity of live music then. After a year or so, you might work up to the midweek slot of Wednesdays and Thursdays, and then finally to the holy grail of gigging, the weekend.
Our band played a mix of originals and covers, albeit covers that had yet to find their place on any mainstream radio. We were wild boys, which brought mixed reviews from the club owners, but they couldn’t argue with our door receipts, so we were largely left alone. There was a groundswell of local bands playing in the mid eighties, and generally, support from the audiences was great. Even local radio got in on the act and started promoting local concerts and playing local releases during normal hours.
The cracks started appearing in our local scene in the late ‘80s. A couple of big clubs closed–some due to bad management and/or illicit drug dealing. The heady rush of the early eighties had mostly settled down and had become very formulaic, especially as MTV continued to take less risks on new artists and played the tried and true favorites. My band, which had weathered almost five years as a core unit, also fractured, and suddenly music as a career choice didn’t seem so rosy.
The winter of 1988 seemed to take its toll on many local bands and clubs, and there was an uncertainty as to what direction, if any, would put local music back on the road to success. In the summer of 1989, my band went back to playing live with the same name, but with one less guitar player and a different drummer. For about a year, we struggled to find venues to play. Eventually, we did find a new stable of venues, but they were not the typical rock clubs we were used to. Sometimes, you might end up playing next to the salad bar, or have to wait until dinner customers left so that the staff could move the tables out of the way so you could set up on the “stage.”
Rock had another seismic shift in 1991 with the emergence of Nirvana and the whole “Grunge Rock” phenomenon. Suddenly, many people previously in hair metal bands began “stylistic” shifts in stage and personal attire as well as song selection. As powerful as the new music was, I seem to remember that besides killing off glam metal, Grunge had kind of taken the fun out of rock n’ roll, and bands that were following in its wake took themselves way too seriously.
Our local scene was still churning out bands, but the support structure had crumbled a bit, with a noticeable reduction in audience attendance. Compact discs were now the new thing, and many local bands started producing their own. Though live venues had been thinned out, there seemed to be a new optimism in the air though it was certainly not the halcyon days of the 1980s. It felt like more effort was being expended for less money and diminishing results.
By then, I was in my late twenties and having some serious second thoughts as to my career choice. In the early days, I drank because I was shy and needed help to get on stage. After a few years, I drank to keep my energy level up. By the mid-‘90s, I was drinking to kill the pain of having to play the same places over and over after having spent the previous decade making positive headway towards a promising future.
My town had also changed with the influx of the evangelical group Focus On The Family moving to Colorado Springs. There were more people moving here, but not the kind that supported live music. In fact, with the influx of the religious right, we began to see regional shows dry up as Colorado Springs developed a bad reputation as a right-wing, evangelical town. As a lifelong resident, I felt we had been unfairly targeted, but the damage was done and more clubs and bands dried up.
The final hurrah for my longest running band came in 1995 with a small tour to Russia doing a rock opera my roommate had written. We performed it with the Volgograd Symphony Orchestra. We took a film crew with us, and the news had created quite a buzz in the local and regional press. But when we returned from our trip, it seemed to me that we and the local music scene were running on vapors. After one final album and a pile of forgettable, angry, and boozy shows, my band folded in 1997.
Most of the major clubs were gone or had changed format. Many local musicians had given up or moved away, and it was pretty apparent the whole scene had sunk even further into the mud. Live music sputtered and coughed into the middle of the new millennium but was dealt one final blow in the form of the smoking ban, which occurred in 2006. It was a win for public health but a final nail in the coffin of local music and the few clubs that hung on. Crowds thinned even more, and clubs started paying even less. DUI laws got teeth, and suddenly it became less attractive to drive somewhere for a night out and take your chances driving home.
As I look at my town today, I still see young bands starting and old bands reforming, and the venues have become more diverse in the form of house concerts or outdoor events. The money is either fair or nonexistent. Gone are the days of packed, smoky houses with loud bands and cash payouts. The scene has been sterilized, and live music just doesn’t enjoy the support it once did.
Of course, music formats have changed again, and with radio being somewhat of an anachronism, it’s not surprising to think we may never see a return to the old days. Bands are still out there, and once in awhile, wildly successful shows happen, but I feel like those are the exception and not the standard we once had. I’m old now. I don’t go out much, so perhaps the magic is still alive out there, I’m just not seeing it. From time to time, a spark flutters in my heart when I play a rare show and I’m reminded of my days as a young man and the incredible freedom it seems like we had back then making music.
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Chuck Snow has been a performing musician since 1983 in Colorado Springs, Colorado and is best known for his long suffering band, The Autono. He comes from a musical family and is rumoured to be related to country singer Hank Snow. Chuck continues to perform solo and with bands on an uneven schedule. He has new music coming out this Fall collected under the title, “Old Boy.”
