I do not understand why some folks believe a career in music is not a valid occupation. Imagine your favorite artist chose to follow the typical family advice and get a real job instead, “So, is it a business yet?” Or the band broke up because the van caught fire, the gear stolen, or they could not work out a personal or creative difference. They struggle to pay for instruments, studio time, merchandise, a tank of gas to get to the next show. Megadeth’s David Mustaine in A Heavy Metal Memoir suggests, “All bands eventually break up because one or more of the four P’s: power, property, prestige, and p*.” We will just say ability, money, ego or a girl. The most disheartening is when they stop because they fear and doubt their own talent and self worth. A recording session can become a counseling session or an intervention. Even with all band members on board and whole heartedly committed scheduling practice, never mind a tour, becomes a major obstacle when the drummer works the night shift at Guitar Center, the bassist is a full-time college student, and the vocalist has a wife and two small children.
The Studio
For me the Echo Room started as a homeschool senior high project. The New England Art Institute in Boston wanted an outrageous amount for a four year Audio Engineering Degree for something he already taught himself to do on my PC in our gutted kitchen as control room and bathroom for the vocals. So when he asked if he could build a recording studio in the basement, I said, “Yes.” Young musicians throughout the Blackstone Valley descended upon my home with hammer and nails, Macs and mics, building bass traps and studio desks, donating their time, or whatever they had, to be able to record a demo at “the studio”. They held in their hand a silver compact disc, but to them it was pure gold.
I heard a man from Columbus, Ohio raised $55,492 with 6,911 backers by crowdfunding to make a potato salad. Here in Uxbridge, Massachusetts we make music. Not only will the "Pray for the band” campaign support the Echo Room, it will serve as a reminder to pray for the bands you know and love; for it would be a silent world without them. But hey, we will have plenty of potato salad.
The Band
The names have changed, but I have been praying for “the band” ever since our first born picked up a toy guitar. One Sunday morning our pastor asked if anyone had any prayer requests and Ian raised his little hand, “Pray for the band.” Granted, no one had real instruments at the time and the oldest member was only eleven, but the original line-up included the PKs, the pastor’s kids. It was obvious by his lack of enthusiasm to bless this newly formed endeavor that it was not his dream to have his children aspire to be in a band. I had already come to the revelation that Ian had a gift that I did not bestow upon him, the dream was his; so I wrote his request in my Bible. In the History Of The Eagles: The Story Of An American Band, Timothy B. Schmit notes, “In my experience all rock and roll bands are on the verge of breaking up at all times.” In my experience, all bands are on the verge of never even starting.
The Gift
Often I am asked why I invest, or sacrifice, so much for the studio. How can I stand all the noise or the parade of people in my home? It always comes back to “the gift”. It was first noted when he was 2 years old, not your typical keyboard banger. At 4 he was listening to symphonies; my brother said to buy him a football. By 9 he surpassed his guitar instructor in talent and had a recognized ability to compose. He was writing songs and performing with his first band at 13. When he was 15 he attended Berklee College of Music’s guitar program and self-taught to record. I posses the most beautiful rendition of Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major.
The studio was completed and first paying band at the age of 18. The review of the album in The Noise, Music New England’s monthly magazine reads, “Producer Ian van Opijnen must be commended for his wizardry on all 11 songs as well.” I have kept the article by my desk. Within six months of completion, after the birth of our sixth child, my carpenter husband became critically ill and permanently disabled. If it were not for what I wrote in my Bible and what I knew to be true in my heart, the studio could have ended there. Bands should not quit because Pap got sick.
The Musicians
“George the Merchboy” epitomizes the notion of a starving musician when three bands spent the weekend at our home. They were on tour, playing small venues up and down the East Coast, camping out in Walmart parking lots and sketchy people’s places. So when Ian called from Georgia to ask if the bands could stay at our house when the shows were in New England, I once again said, “Yes.” The night before they all rolled in we got dozens of bagels from the church food pantry and with my last $20 tubs of cream cheese. The next morning, after being asked by others what does “everything” mean and are the raisins really real, George humbly came to me and said, “Thank you so much for the bagel. That was the most substantial food I have had in days.”
We attempted to expand the Echo Room and rented a 1500 SF space in Worcester, but that is another story. Ilya and Julian describe it best in Allston Pudding’s article Animals with Aminals: Hangin’ in the Dog Park. Just scroll down to where they are asked by AP: There was some weird stuff going on in the studio, right?
Every other season, just as the hundreds of musicians who have graced our doors, we have the discussion about whether or not to continue; give it up and get a job. The 40 bucks they got for their last show did not go far. And when all the bands go home, the time spent in the wee hours tweaking and mixing has yet to produce a living wage, especially with the constant need to update equipment and taking on each project as if it were his own. But as Ian’s budding brothers often remind me “There will always be someone recording in the basement.” And wherever our individual gifts may lie, we should all consider Dom’s last words the last time he was here with Last Lights. Just insert your own name. "Do it, Ian. Just do it.” A week later he was “inadvertently injured during a performance of his band” and passed away. The inscription in his high school yearbook, “Live and love so immensely that when death comes there is nothing left for him to take.” By the Classical definition, Dom was a true musician; one who loves the art of the Muses: poetry, story, lyric, song, hymn, dance, comedy, tragedy, and dreams.
Bethany Anna Photography, Forest Fires 2015
The Echo Room Recording Studio
And since there will always be a studio, there will always be a “studio dog”. Cody the Toy Fox Terrier’s last words with Foxfires are also to be remembered.
My goal is to make sure music continues to be made that otherwise may not be heard. I can Google a recipe to make potato salad on my own. Short term is to keep the lights on. Yes, every time another gadget gets plugged in the meter spins round and rounder. But by the grace of God, through family, friend, stranger and the USA, we are still here. Mid term goals would be to fix the leaks in this ole house and pave the driveway; no more mud, dust, and ice. Long term would be a free standing building, no neighbors, cathedral ceilings, plenty of studio, practice and parking space, comfortable atmosphere to create. Sounds like we need our own church.
The bands I pray for now, Forest Fires, Aminals & Backwards Dancer
My favorite song...so far.
The Breathing Process, My Hero is Me and A Girl, A Gun, A Ghost. September 2007, the year of the TBP
It echos down here.
173 Grove Street, Worcester, MA
