Fans Keep Bands Rockin’ : Loyal Core Audience Can Generate Bookings, Even Stardom, for Groups on Club Circuit

Months had passed since Debbie Rogers had heard her favorite Los Angeles pop group, Venice. The wait had to end.

“I needed my fix,” she shouted during a recent Venice concert at the Roxy.

Rogers, 27, of North Hollywood is a development assistant for a small, independent film company. That’s her job.

Venice is her joy. She can’t stop talking about the band whose activities she monitors so closely. Every acquaintance automatically becomes a potential Venice admirer.

“I love taking new people to see them,” Rogers said during a break in the music at the Hollywood club. “Everybody always wants to come back for more.”

Bands like Venice rely heavily on dedicated fans such as Rogers. In the highly competitive club scene in Los Angeles and the San Fernando Valley, the quality of the band-fan relationship can mean the difference between relative obscurity and steady bookings--even record contracts.

Strong followings--100 reliable fans is considered a good drawing card, according to club owners--ensure that bands are booked regularly. Before long, somebody in the record business is likely to investigate a group with a steady following. It’s no wonder bands work hard to keep their fans in line.

“I can think of two groups, Warrant and Shark Island, who eventually got a deal after the excitement they generated in Los Angeles,” said Bryan Huttenhower of A&M; Records in Hollywood. “It happens a lot. If you sell out three nights at the Roxy or anywhere else, there’s no way you’re not going to get checked out.”

Tim Devine, director of A&R; for Capitol Records, agrees. He listed Motley Crue, Poison and Ratt among the bands that parlayed strong Los Angeles followings into lucrative recording contracts.

“We talk to musicians, club owners and booking agents,” Devine said. “When you hear about followings from enough people, record companies flock like sheep to hear the groups play.”

But bands on the club circuit face a Catch-22 situation: to develop a loyal and strong following, a group needs to play the clubs. But many club owners say they can’t afford to book a band unless they can first count on the following.

“It’s economics, basically,” said Jean-Pierre Boccara, co-manager of Hollywood’s Lhasaland club. “The more expenses you have, the more you think about that. We have to have a band that can fill up the room.”

Many bands must therefore start out by playing smaller, less visible venues. Venice began nine years ago by appearing at high schools and dances. It was two years before the group started playing clubs regularly.

Staying on the club circuit requires a great deal of “in-house” promotion. Bands may devote not only time but a relatively high percentage of their fees to publicity; Venice spends at least $130 of its $1,000 per-show fee. Members of bands mail frequent fliers to their fans, call them on the phone regularly, mingle in clubs all over town and contact the media.

Each group treasures its mailing list, a written verification that the band members might be on the path to stardom.

Beyond promotion, bands must always remember what qualities in their music and stage presence attracted the fans. At the same time they are trying to reach out to new fans, groups must continue to satisfy their core supporters.

Kipp Lennon, 28, lead singer of Venice, said this balancing act must be handled delicately.

“You don’t want to change so much that the original group will leave you,” Lennon said, “but on the other hand, you have to keep things interesting. I guess you just have to keep the same attention you’ve always had to putting on a good show.”

For Venice backers, a good show means a socially conscious, highly spirited evening. While the band sings about relevant--and often sobering--issues such as racism, fans say what brings them back over and over is the hope the group inspires.

Strongly influenced by such 1970s standards as Fleetwood Mac, the Doobie Brothers and Steely Dan, Venice--based in Mar Vista--appeals to an older (late 20s), more sophisticated rock audience. Band members deliberately avoid projecting a sexual image on stage--they know their fans wouldn’t tolerate it. On the other hand, they are careful not to preach because they don’t want to turn off any younger listeners.

“They feel like we’re normal people,” said Michael Lennon, 29, Kipp’s cousin and the group’s lead guitarist. “You get in trouble with fans when they think they’re alienated from you. None of us think we’re going to go home and sleep with some groupies.”

Conversely, a Tuff concert is usually packed with teen-age groupies. After a recent Country Club outing, several dozen girls camped out on the stairs leading to the band’s dressing room. During the show, one woman slipped a note into a guitarist’s boot, while another threw her bra on stage. Cameras flashed all night. The members of Tuff have pretty faces, and they know it.

Backstage at the Reseda club, the exhausted hard-rock group laughed about the adulation. They moved from Phoenix to Los Angeles two years ago, and now live in Sherman Oaks. They have appeared in several national music magazines and say they have 10,000 names on their mailing list.

“Dedicated young girls are dying to see us,” said Michael (Lean) Raimondo, 20, the drummer, when asked to explain the group’s popularity. “The girls think, ‘They threw the drumsticks at me.’ She knows it was right at her. We’re giving the people just what they want.”

The connection between fan and band often crosses the line from participation to possession. After nine years of performing in L.A. clubs, Venice members say they are close to signing a record deal; at their Roxy show, representatives from four labels showed up. But when asked how they would feel about their favorite band making it big, many loyalists weren’t so thrilled.

“I don’t want them to get bigger, nobody does,” Rogers said. “It’s like they’re this well-kept secret, like only we know about them. If they sign a record contract, everyone will know them. This is like having our own Michael Jackson, our own Prince.”

Kipp Lennon is accustomed to such talk. He recalls a friend of his niece who wouldn’t tell anybody about the group because she was afraid they’d get too big.

“I guess it’s flattering,” Kipp Lennon said, “and it shows a sense of loyalty, but, of course, we want to do better.”

The issue of “doing better” is not always foremost in the minds of some fans. Pat Morrison is a devoted fan of the Van Nuys-based Sterilles, a playful, all-girl threesome. But she isn’t sure how good they are.

“And I’m not sure if that’s important to me,” said Morrison, 26, a Van Nuys free-lance commercial artist. “I enjoy them. They’re funny. Most bands try to look the pretty part, but here comes this group that’s not very attractive, and they don’t try to be. They look like cocktail waitresses in Bakersfield.”

A standard Sterille show features an audience evenly divided between men and women--or, more accurately, boys and girls. Dina Press, the lead singer, said the band has a large following in Valley high schools.

Press believes the Sterilles attract high school students because the band sings about issues that directly affect teen-agers. One song, Press said, deals directly with “guys who sit around the house, drinking beer from a can.”

“Girls see that we’re not sex kittens who are trying to steal their boyfriends,” Press said. “Sometimes, I have to hunt real hard to find the ugliest thing I can. That’s our image.”

Nonetheless, the Sterilles are having trouble these days hanging on to their following, proving how quickly it can all vanish. They used to be able to count on 75 to 100 loyal fans at a show. Now that figure is down to about 50. They attribute the decline to the departure earlier this year of their bass player, Ann Leadingham, to attend Valley College. By the time they had found a replacement, their momentum had slipped. Now, by regularly contacting their former followers, they’re hoping to get it back.

Bands also worry about overexposure. “In about a month, we played at the Palomino, the Coconut Teaszer and Bebop,” Press said. “We know realistically that fans will only come to two of them, at best. People, even our best fans, don’t want to put down that much money.”

The Pur’p’l Tur’t’lz, however, aren’t worried about too much exposure. Steve Miller, their manager, said the Valley-based group, which aims to capture the psychedelic pop sound of the Grateful Dead, plays as often as possible.

Formed in 1984, the group has 1,200 names on its mailing list. At a recent show at Pierce College, only several dozen attended, but all of them were dancing enthusiastically to the beat. Beyond their relationship to the band, Pur’p’l Tur’t’lz fans value the personal interaction among themselves.

“It’s more of a family-type scene,” said Yamel Zanarini, 22, of Encino, who has followed the group for three years. “Everybody goes together, and knows everyone else. I’ve met a lot of people through the Tur’t’lz.”

And it is exactly that type of camaraderie that record company executives love to see. While by itself a huge following is no guarantee of a contract and prolonged success, record companies do take notice.

“When you see a group with a lot of fans like that, you do take them seriously,” Huttenhower said. “It’s kind of reassuring, but I have to feel it too before I’ll want to get them signed.”

Rogers feels it every time she sees Venice. At the recent Roxy performance, Venice did a stirring encore of old Motown hits. Rogers was too transfixed to move.

“I won’t wait long for my next fix,” she promised.