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Rhythm Masters: Skunkcore band Quarter Oi, together since middle school, looks forward to fame--or fun.
Photograph by Skye Dunlap
The Boys in the Bands
Aspiring young musicians rock hard in pursuit of their dreams
By Jessica Lyons
Sixteen-year-old Drew Carlascio stomps around stage, screaming "Jesus Loves Me" at his mic and at drummer Steven Cheney. The Willow Glen High junior puts a hard-core edge on the old Sunday School favorite. The horns, Brian Jensen, Ryan Hammond and Jarrod Neff, leap in--literally--moshing after ska-infused bursts, and play air guitar on a saxophone and two trumpets. Guitarist Jon Haven scissor-jumps into the air a la Pete Townshend. Dave Olson, the most subdued of the bunch, plays bass.
They're Quarter Oi, a Christian "skunk-core" (ska/punk/hard core) band of local 16- to 18-year-olds, and they're practicing for an upcoming gig at the Lighthouse, an abandoned Long's Drug store turned teen club in Morgan Hill.
The seven teens, juniors and seniors at Willow Glen, Santa Clara and Leigh high schools, have been bandmates since their middle school days. In the world of high school rock & rolldom, where bands last about as long as a typical teenage infatuation, that's an eternity. The seven practice every Sunday at Hillside Free Evangelical Church in a youth-group room, amidst ping-pong and foosball tables, shelves of Bibles and colorful bulletin boards.
Quarter Oi performs two or three times a month at teen clubs, community centers and churches from San Jose to Paso Robles. But since only three of the seven have a driver's license, traveling to distant festivals is difficult. To date they've recorded one five-song demo tape, "We're Not Junior Highers," and plan on heading back to the studio in August.
In Tune: Guitarist Ryan Hernandez picks out a melody while waiting for his bandmates.
Photograph by Skye Dunlap
Funk-Lovin' Guys
In another part of the valley, another young band of aspiring rock stars hangs out at Orchard Valley, a popular coffee house in downtown Campbell. The five new bandmates, Eric Victorino, Ryan Hernandez, Steve Turner, Steven Shyshka and Ryan Westphal, also practice in a San Jose church but to the beat of a different drummer.
Neither ska nor Christian rock, they haven't picked a name for themselves yet, or found a distinct sound. But judging from past recordings and musical influences, their style leans toward more instrumentally driven rock & roll, with some funk thrown in. Anything but INSyNC or the Backstreet Boys, they say.
Enertia, Turner and Victorino's former band stuck together for almost two years, recording an album and playing at the Cactus Club and Gaslighter Theater before breaking up. Hernandez' band, Faith in Grey, whose members were together for one year, also played the Gaslighter and the former Cafe Babylon. They all took some time off from the scene and now, they say, they're ready to commit to their music and the band. This time it will work.
"It's been two years and we're not in high school anymore, most of us don't have to be home at 10 at night anymore," says 21-year-old Victorino, a Del Mar High grad. "I think we all grew up a little. We're not mature people yet, but we're mature musicians."
These aren't typical high school bands. They don't play cover tunes--their music and lyrics are original. They don't practice in garages or basements. Their meetings are authentic rehearsals, not just an excuse to party and play with guitars--and they're not half bad.
Members of both bands grew up taking music lessons or singing in the choir, dreaming about fame and record deals. They try to stay grounded in reality, but occasionally a rock & roll dream takes wing. "We want to be the other band besides Smash Mouth to make it from San Jose," Hernandez, 19, says.
So they keep practicing, recording CDs and playing shows, and maybe a record deal will turn up along the way.
Photograph by Skye Dunlap
Hit Maker: Drummer Steve Turner, formerly of Enertia, now pounds the skins for an as-yet unnamed rock outfit.
Maxed Messages
It's a Tuesday night and some members of the still-nameless band are practicing in a small room in a Presbyterian Church in San Jose. The Sunday folk group practices in a room downstairs. Amps and the drum set take up the majority of the space. Vocalist Victorino stands in the doorway, eyes closed, mic in both hands, singing about roses in the sky. After three tries, however, it's still not coming together. It's a practice they will later describe as a train wreck.
Victorino is the most visibly driven of the group. But that same intensity is partially to blame for the demise of his former band, he says. "You've got to understand, I worked at Kinko's," he says. "I could make so many wonderful bright stickers. I would slap silly shit like 'Rising San Jose Favorites: Enertia' on them when no one had ever heard of us.
"We've all been in our separate bands, and we've all done our own thing. We've all experienced what it's like to try to make it. In this area, if you act bigger than you are, people can smell bullshit really easily. I think it's all about honesty. If we just get together and try to have fun and play music then we'll have a good chance, but if we try to be rock stars it's not going to happen."
Quarter Oi, although a little more high school and little less downtown-driven than Victorino and crew, shares the same philosophy: play music, have fun and whatever happens, happens. "I just look forward to shows," Cheney, 17, says. "It's just fun just getting in a van and driving."
They make a point of ministering to the masses as well. "Our basic message is to preach God's love," Haven says. "I'll get up on stage and say to everyone [that] God loves them or something like that. Or we'll talk about our band fights. We used to fight a lot and we prayed about it. That's the only reason this band is together."
The audience listens to their message, they say. Even performing at secular clubs for secular crowds, they've never been heckled for talking about their religion.
They are mocked, however, for other things. "We get made fun of from other bands for being ska," Carlascio admits. So they're changing their tune. "Ska died with us and now we're into punk," Carlascio says.
Practice is over and now they're on to more important matters. As the seven lanky teens run off, Haven yells a surprising explanation for the quick get-away. "Now we can go play with Star Wars toys."
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Willow Glen, California Since 1992
