Beating Brea, Winning Title Would Be Music to His Ears

We’re with you live from the recording studio of Travis Parker, 17-year-old musical genius, fiddler extraordinaire and starting right tackle at Valencia High. As you can see, the studio is stocked with all the necessities--guitars, microphones, synthesizers, amps, a teddy bear bedspread (OK, so the studio doubles as his bedroom), stacks of records, tapes, songbooks, CDs . . .

And here’s Travis now.

Tell us, Mr. Parker, what are your goals? What are your dreams?

“Oh, you know. Be on MTV, sell out the Forum. All the usual stuff.”

And what about football? Play in college? The pros?

“Nah. I just want us to beat Brea this year--oh, and win CIF. Of course, my biggest dream has always been to score a touchdown. You know--pick off a pass, recover a fumble, dive into the end zone...”

And then--what?--Johnny Carson? Letterman? Oprah?

“I never really thought about it, but heck, if they’re interested, I’m interested.”

Interested? How many chances do people get to interview a 6-foot-4, 230-pound high school tackle who once played the fiddle in front of a couple of hundred naked fans?

“I guess you heard about our gig at the nudist colony, huh?”

Sorry, Trav. Your mom told all. But I guess we ought to fill in the folks at home. . .

By his own admission, Travis Parker is not the best lineman at Valencia. But he’s a starter on offense, and considering he never played football before high school, it’s a pretty nice position to be in, what with the Tigers 4-0 and ranked fourth in the county.

But Parker stands out, in his own way. He’s the tallest player on the line. And he’s the only member of the team to have gone pro--in the music business, that is.

Since the age of 10, he has played the fiddle for the Buffalo Brewing Company, a four-piece band that includes his father, Mac, on banjo. (Parker calls his fiddle a “violin” only when it is played in a classical style).

Ever since he was little, Parker has been hooked on the fiddle. His parents always had musical instruments around the house, and one day he decided he would teach himself to play. In doing so, he learned to hold the bow in his left hand instead of his right. It was unconventional, but it felt comfortable, Parker says, and he wasn’t about to change.

Because of this, music instructors refused to work with him. They told him left-handed violin players are never allowed in orchestras, that a bow out of sync is not to be tolerated.

They told Parker to stop playing around, to get serious, but he was no fiddler on a spoof. He worked hard on his own, and finally met an instructor who would help him polish his craft, even if she had to turn her entire way of teaching inside-out.

Now, Parker’s teacher is one of his students; he’s become such an expert, he gives advanced fiddle lessons a few nights a week. He charges some students for lessons, but for others he accepts musical instruments in exchange for his services. In doing so, he has become adept at keyboards, piano, drums, banjo, mandolin, bass and acoustic and electric guitar.

He also writes music and lyrics, which he performs in a rock band--called The Pedestrians--with Mike Valdez, the goalkeeper for Valencia’s water polo team.

But most of his time is dedicated to the Buffalo Brewing Company, which plays mostly country and western, with a little bluegrass. Parker says that after more than eight years, it is the longest-running country western band in Orange County.

They’ve played at county fairs, chili cook-offs, charity functions, convalescent homes, tractor races, corporate functions, swank parties and sleazy strip bars.

“You name it, we’ve played it,” Parker says.

And sometimes it makes for a rather long weekend. A few weeks ago, after a football game Friday night, Parker’s weekend went like this: football practice Saturday morning from 8 to 11. Home to shower. Corporate gig in Costa Mesa. Home to shower. Birthday gig in Brea. Home to shower. Bar gig in Lake Elsinore. Got home around 4 a.m.

That, Parker says, was unusually brutal, but he enjoyed every minute of it. Besides, at up to $125 per hour, split four ways, the band pulls in quite a bit of spending money. But the motive, he says, isn’t money.

“It’s fun when you get paid, but the best thing is when people love your music and clap for you,” says Parker, an A student who scored 1,380 on his SATs and hopes to be a psychologist.

“If you did it only for the money, it’d get boring real fast.”

And no one would call Parker’s band experience boring. A few of his more memorable gigs:

--Atop a helicopter pad at a mansion in Riverside.

--In the boondocks behind the hills of Brea, during a political rally for a man named Chick Chick.

--On the sand at Crystal Cove State Park, as the sun set behind them.

--In the presence of stars--movie stars--at a celebrity function in Coto de Caza. “It was unbelievable,” Parker says. “Arnold Schwarzenegger asked me for my autograph!”

--And, his most excellent adventure, at a “sun club” or nudist colony near Lake Elsinore.

“It was a revealing experience,” Parker quips. “All these naked people were playing tennis and Roller-blading . . . I was just going, ‘Yeah, whatever!’

“But they loved us--I mean they were dancing and having fun and clapping along. That’s what we want. After awhile, you almost stop noticing no one has their clothes on.”

Especially if you’re dressed the same way. When two members of the band finally gave in and stripped down, Parker and his father stayed clothed.

“I would never have lived that down,” Parker says. “It’s funny, though. They’ve invited us back there for a gig in February. When I talk about it at school, all the girls go ‘Oh, gross!” but I’ve got about 25 guys volunteering to be our roadies.”