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Saosin: Brotherly Shove
Posted by Mission Media on 29-Jun-07 @ 03:52 PM|
It looked like SAOSIN were going to be permanently derailed by a charismatic frontman gone AWOL. These days, they're armed with an uncompromising work ethic, a grueling tour schedule and the kind of unity found in the frontlines of battle-everything they need to win the post-hardcore sweepstakes. Story: Scott Heisel It's hard to imagine if this is what Wolfgang Grajonca had in mind for his legacy when he escaped Nazi Germany in the 1930s. Grajonca-better known rock-music historians as Bill Graham-made a name for himself in the '60s as the premiere concert promoter of the counterculture in the bubbling hippie cauldron of San Francisco, helping spread the longhair gospel of the Grateful Dead, Janis Joplin and many others. In fact, he was so important to the Bay Area music scene that after his 1991 death, the San Francisco Civic Auditorium was renamed the Bill Graham Civic Auditorium in tribute. But one look at tonight's musical clientele and he'd probably wonder if "flower power" died alongside him. It's the second night of the Rockstar Taste Of Chaos Tour, and the crowd inside the 7,000-person indoor arena is bursting with energy. And granted, there might be some negativity emanating from shirtless, radio-damaged bro-dudes in the mosh pit waiting to see 30 Seconds To Mars, but overall, the vibe of the night is overwhelmingly positive-as proven by the autograph line for Saosin. The Newport Beach, California, quintet-vocalist Cove Reber, guitarists Justin Shekoski and Beau Burchell, bassist Chris Sorenson and drummer Alex Rodriguez-have just finished playing a face-melting 35-minute set smack-dab in the middle of the bill (something Sorenson is thrilled about, as the band were the curtain-jerkers on the inaugural Chaos tour in 2005). But there's no rest for the weary (or for those amped up on Rockstar Energy Drink): After about 15 minutes of decompression in their dressing room, the band-all visibly sweaty, some still in their stage clothes-are escorted down to the Hurley booth on the lower concourse of the auditorium, where they are greeted by a 300-strong line snaking all the way down the corridor. As permanent markers and bottles of water are passed out, the receiving line begins-and so do the stories. "The last time I saw you I had the flu, but I was still in the front row," a sweaty, dark-haired girl in a white tank top proudly states. "I flew in from Hawaii to see you tonight!" exclaims another female fan, trying to one-up the prior person. As the line progresses, the compliments range from eerily specific ("You have really pretty eyes," one blushing girl coos to Burchell) to blood loss-induced bragging ("I got hit in the face with a camera during your second song but didn't leave the pit!" boasts a pint-sized teen with a butterfly bandage above her swollen eye). Fifty minutes, hundreds of autographs and one collective ego boost later, the band are finally free to go back to their dressing room. "If a person wants a hug or a picture or a signed this or that, I'll do it," says Burchell about the marathon signing session that found everything from posters and drumsticks to butt cheeks and breasts thrust in front of the band. "I know it sounds stupid, like, we're doing a favor, but to me, it's a nice way of saying, 'Cool, we'll do whatever you want.'" Shekoski agrees. "It's the least we could do for kids who give a shit." These days, hordes of people have given a shit about Saosin since their 2003 formation. The group-built on a hardcore foundation, led by former singer Anthony Green's otherworldly vocals and accentuated by metal guitar riffs and head-spinning drumwork-put Orange County back on the map with the release of their five-song EP, Translating The Name, on the band's own Death Do Us Part label. By their first show that summer, they had A&R reps from every label-indie and major-traveling to southern California to see them play. "Things in California just exploded once they started playing," says Mikoto vocalist Ray Harkins, whose former band, Taken, recorded their final EP with Burchell at the time "every label was pretty much hunting [Saosin] down." "It was like they were growing out of a magic tree," remembers Spitalfield frontman Mark Rose, whose band accompanied Saosin on part of their first U.S. tour. "They came out of nowhere. What made it all credible was that they were putting on a great show." Esoteric Philadelphia native Green was the focus of that show, and his unusual stage presence wasn't a gimmick. "Anthony pretty much floored everyone every night with his energy and charisma and how insane he was," Rose continues. "He might've been out on a limb a little bit, but that's what made him who he was." Unfortunately, Green's East Coast mannerisms didn't mesh well with the rest of the band's West Coast attitude. On Feb. 17, 2004, as Burchell was heading to the airport to pick Green up so the band could begin tour rehearsals, he received a phone call from Sky Harbor International Airport in Phoenix. It was the singer, phoning in his resignation. "At first, I thought he was totally kidding," Burchell recalls exactly three years to the day later. "I was like, 'Dude, what a creep. You're totally playing a joke. First of all, we paid for your plane ticket; I know you don't have a layover in Phoenix. You've gotta be joking.' But then we found out it was real, and it was like, 'Okay, wow, that sucks.'" Everything up to that point had been happening so quickly and positively for the nascent post-hardcore band; so why the sudden resignation? In last month's AP cover story on Green's new band Circa Survive, the singer said Saosin's members were "basically into tanning and, like, boning chicks;" he also remarked that he hated what he was doing in Saosin and wanted to kill himself because of it. "That's just ridiculous," states Shekoski. "We're from a beach town, so we're tan. So we're assholes now?" Sorenson concurs. "In actuality, [Green] was banging more chicks than all of us combined. [Besides], it's not like we kicked him out of the band. He chose to quit. So the fact that he's in any way affected negatively by that? Sorry." "The cool thing is, I think Anthony left the band at the best possible time," Shekoski says, putting light on an otherwise potentially ugly situation. "If we [were] where we are now, it would've been way worse. It was the best way for it to happen." Burchell closes the topic diplomatically. "We're all extremely happy and feel very fortunate for where we are now," as Rodriguez and Sorenson nod in agreement, signifying undeniable band unity. Reber-the band's singer since July 2004-remains strangely silent on the issue. Later that night, the pajama-clad frontman enters the back lounge of his band's plush tour coach as it prepares to leave for the next night's show in Reno, Nevada. After finding his footing between a portable recording studio and numerous guitar cases, he opens his cell phone and cues up a text message received a day earlier. It reads in part, "I know you're not a Cali dickhead" and "I respect your art." The sender is Anthony Green. Afterward, Reber heads up to the front lounge where Shekoski and the band's road crew screen live DVDs of Journey and Poison only semi-ironically, as well as a critical analysis of AC/DC's Bon Scott years. Jokes are cracked, Spinal Tap references are made, and the mood is generally happy. Then again, no one's been reviewing the messages on Reber's phone. If there's one thing Tammie Reber wants you to understand about her son Cove, it's that he's a "really good kid." Tammie-who goes by the handle "Saomom" on the internet-and her husband Randy raised Cove, the oldest of three, in a Mormon household in Ridgecrest, California, before moving to San Diego during Cove's eighth-grade school year. After Reber-then 18 and still in high school-learned about Green's departure, he quickly recorded himself singing along to some of the band's songs, mailed in a demo CD and, according to Mrs. Reber, "pestered them to death" until he was given an audition. Even after multiple practices, it was still unclear if Reber was an official member. Confusing matters even more were the band's five post-Green "comeback" shows on the California dates of the 2005 Warped Tour, most of which had Story Of The Year guitarist and band ally Phil Sneed in the frontman role. "It was horrible," Reber says about his inaugural performance in Fullerton on July 12, 2004. Today, the tour has set up camp in Reno, and the singer is sitting outside the upper level of the Lawlor Events Center at the University of Nevada, pulling his black beanie down over his ears to block the wind. "I [remember asking] Chris, 'What do I do? I've never been a frontman.'" Entering a band-especially one garnering critical and fan acclaim-in any role is bound to be difficult. Taking over the microphone is even more critical, as both band members and fans will inevitably compare the new guy against his predecessor. Factor in a lack of personal life experience, some incredibly strong personalities and an exhausting tour itinerary, and you have a formula for potential disaster. Anthony Green was 21 when he had enough of the touring lifestyle after only a year in Saosin; Reber was thrust into the spotlight when he graduated high school. How has he persevered? "Dealing with Chris, Beau and Justin is extremely difficult," Reber admits before pausing to take in the breathtaking scenery, mountaintops scraping the bright blue Nevada sky. "I could see why [Anthony] left." Reber can relate because ever since his first tour, he has encountered many of the same stresses and temptations that got the best of Green. "Pot, cocaine and heavy drinking," Reber quickly responds. One of two straight-edge members in Saosin (Sorenson is the other), Reber isn't militant about his beliefs (a combination of personal discoveries and traditional Mormon ideals), but he does stick to them. "It doesn't bug me that they don't believe the same things... [but] some of the stuff [people] were trying to get me to open up to on the first tour, I didn't really want to open up to, and I still don't open up to. And I'm not talking musically." Reber's bandmates don't pressure him to abandon his morals, but his musical immaturity in a band who consistently strive to be as professional as possible has been the cause of numerous flare-ups. "[For example, during] Taste Of Chaos at [San Francisco's] the Fillmore [in 2005], Justin was just livid with me for being completely off the entire set," he recalls. "I wanted to quit because he was yelling at me." Hurt feelings are par for the course in a touring rock band, but with early personal and moral conflicts such as these, it's easy to see why Reber has wanted to quit Saosin more than once since signing on. But when those feelings crop up, Reber turns to the one person who can understand more than anyone else: Anthony Green. "You have no clue how many times I've wanted to quit this band," Reber says, sighing. "But every time I want to, I call Anthony and I tell him, and he's like, 'No, you can't quit this band. You were meant for that band.'" The two singers first crossed paths when Saosin played Philadelphia with Strung Out on Nov. 10, 2004. An inebriated Green approached Reber after the show and instead of causing the confrontation Absolutepunk.net forum members dream about, he passed the torch. "He came up to me and said, 'Those songs were written for you to sing. I wasn't meant to sing those songs,'" Reber remembers. "'You sang those songs. And you sing those songs with more heart than I ever sang them with Saosin.' Personally, I don't think I sing them better than Anthony, [but] for him to be so friendly and kind with me and give me his blessing, that's when I felt like I truly took over." It's with this confidence that Reber now commands the band onstage. A typical performance will find him prowling the stage from end to end, stomping around as if possessed by King Kong, and hitting stratospheric notes with relative ease. But as soon as the show ends, Reber shifts back into full-on, lovable-goofball mode, being compassionate and affable with anyone he interacts with. Having many tours and a full-length record under his belt has helped his confidence level remarkably; no longer is he the "new" guy consumed with self-doubt. "Obviously, if I were to quit the band, the band would be done," Reber says with conviction. "I don't think they would write another Saosin record with a new singer." Want the rest of the story? Pick up a copy of issue No. 226. |
