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For Those About To Rock - A History of Sorts
(or, an excessively long, mostly irrelevant tale of how a once-innocent midwestern boy was seduced by the event industry)
Chapter One - The Beginning
Like most people in the event industry, I happened upon this line of work by accident. It all began during those transformative years of the early nineties...Nirvana broke through, washing clean the staid remnants of corporate hair-metal. The roots of the internet as we know it were beginning to take shape, and the smell of a now-thriving do-it-yourself movement within the entertainment industry permeated the air. Like many awkward young men before me, I was adrift in confusion, feeling alone, and longing for peer acceptance. After many failed attempts at sports (and several broken windows), I decided that I wasn't the athletic type, and chose a different direction altogether. I sought refuge in the arms of rock n' roll, picked up the guitar, and made a righteous noise. Noise being the operative word, for I was awful.But like most things in life, simply showing up was most of the battle, and I soon found myself co-opted by my hometown's youthful subculture of leather and flannel-clad artists, musicians, and freaks. We formed bands...lots of bands. Rancourus, incestuous, and in retrospect, mostly mediocre bands. But we had visions of stardom, and in those pre-Youtube years, there was only one way to be heard, to become famous, and assume our rightful position as Rock Gods....
We had to play live. For actual people. Preferably not family.
Not surprisingly, arranging a live show for a bunch of loud, admittedly awful heavy metal bands in our sleepy Michigan backwater was a challenge, one requiring a level of verbosity, tact, and sobriety most of our circle lacked (or at least, cared little to demonstrate publically). Being the most mature of the group (meaning in this case that I could grow the most convincing mustache), and having at least a modicome of social grace, I naturally assumed (i.e was forced into) the role of band manager, booking agent, and promotions representative. In addition to the traditional responsibilities one assummes with these roles, I also had my first opportunities to gain valuable experience in working with local law enforcement, although not quite in the manner I would have preferred (disclaimer - no arrests occurred under my watch, which although making for a less-than-steller rock-in-roll tome is either a testament to my skill as an arbitrator at the time or pure, unadulterated luck) . Amazingly enough, we managed to convince (bribe) several local clubs, halls, and coffee shops into allowing us to..ahem...perform. And although we never attained the stardom we had hoped for, the experience provided me with two critical pieces of insight - that I was much better at the business side of music than I was a performer, and that I could in fact make a career in the event industry if I took it seriously.
But really, who takes anything seriously in high school?
Chapter Two - The College Years (wherein our hero becomes a professional....something)
Following high school I attended Eastern Michigan University, where in addition to continuing my duties as ringleader for the aforementioned band of deviants, I became heavily involved with the University's student-run radio station, WQBR. My involvement at the station initially served but two purposes - it allowed me to earn college credit for playing music, and gave me a place to go when I decided to ditch class. But as is the case with most things worth doing, I soon became heavily invested in the station, spending long hours encased in its shag-carpeted walls, hosting my own program, and eventually becoming the station's production manager. It was as production manager that I lead the development and execution of a series of (sanctioned) on-campus concerts and social events, supposedly as fundraisers, but really because we wanted to showcase some rightous music with donated space, equipment, and with food and drink that didn't come from a vending machine or aluminum can.Well, maybe just not a vending machine...
Concurrently, a few of us from the station branched out on our own, and began hosting a series of club nights at the local college watering hole. Dubbed "Orientation" (as we held them at the beginning of every semester), the events featured a plethora of Detroit-area electronic acts, with the bar decorated to resemble an underground, warehouse-party environment (this aspect was met with some consternation by some of the bar's regulars, who were not amused by the covering of the Golden Tee machine, nor the replacement of the ESPN feed with old Velvet Underground videos). "Orientation" was met with a positive response by most of the student body, although the financial expense of putting on the events eventually doomed the enterprise. None the less, these events were our first "professional" productions (i.e. theoretically profitable), and were a harbinger for things to come in my future career.
As graduation neared, it was time to get serious...or as serious as one who has spent the last three years spinning records and putting on concerts for credit can become. It was internship time, a time to show the professional world just what you've learned for all that time and expense. Somehow, I managed to secure not one, but two top-tier internships during my senior year. The first was as a production intern at W4 Country in Detroit (given the state of modern radio, I couldn't begin to tell you what the station name and format is now...maybe Kissalicebuzzdrivinjack? Hits from the Bulgarian outback? Who knows...). Although my "official" responsibility was the production of commercial and promotional radio spots (ask me how quick I can say "www.petco.com"), the real prize was that I could be involved in producing the "Downtown Hoedown", the nation's largest free country music festival on the shores of the beautiful (?) Detroit River. It was at the "Hoedown" that I got my first taste of "real" concert production, with its brutal hours, constant crisis, and near-impossible working conditions. Needless to say, I was hooked.
In addition to the radio station, I began a second internship at Planet-E Communications, the record label founded by Detroit Techno superstar Carl Craig. Carl brought me on as a production tech of sorts, organizing and maintaining the label's recording studio, and assisting on several radio, recording, and live projects. Not surprisingly, it was the live performance aspect that really interested me, and the label was about undertake a doozy - the first (and some would argue, only REAL) Detroit Electronic Music Festival. As with the Hoedown, the event took place at Hart Plaza in downtown Detroit. Unlike the Hoedown, it was a completely untested operation - four stages, dozens of acts, and up until mere hours before the event, no money to back it all up. By divine grace, we somehow managed to pull it all together, and history began. Attendance at the first DEMF surpassed expectations, with estimates over the three-day run surpassing one million visitors.
Following graduation, I was hired on to work part-time for both the station and label. However, leaving the friendly confines of my college life meant that bills must be paid, so I began a third job as a technician and project manager for Showtech Presentation Systems, a (now defunct) staging and audio/video company in the Detroit area. Nextel brick in hand (remember those?) I dove headlong into the technical side of event production, working on everything from small monitor installations to multi-panel LED video walls. This marked the point where my production experience began expanding beyond the concert/music environment, as I began managing client projects as diverse as auto shows (for Isuzu), large-scale corporate meetings (for K-Mart), and several hybrid events (Ford Motor Company and K-Mart). Although it was a wonderful opportunity to gain a hands-on understanding of technical production (and unleash my inner A/V geek), the position lacked exposure to many of the higher level event design and management elements that I desired. It was time for a change.
Chapter Three - Goin' Out West (Well, 300 miles west, anyway)
In late January 2001, a western wind beckoned. Without plan or any real prospects for employment, I pulled up stakes and moved to Chicago (this was not entirely without support, mind you...my now-wife Sarah had been living there for a year prior as I finished school). The next month was a blur of resumes, interviews, and an ill-fated week at national music chain store that confirmed that retail was NOT for me. Finally, in March, I ran across a job posting for a sponsorship position with a promoter called SFX. At the time, I knew little about the company, save the fact that they had just put U2 tickets onsale and I recognized the name from the posters I stared at during the long hours in line. Likewise, I had little interest in sales, sponsorship or otherwise. However, the job looked promising enough, my skill-set seemed to match their needs, and it might open some doors into other, more desired areas. So I fired up the Windows 98, listened to the dial-up churn, and kicked out a resume.Here goes nothing....
Editors note: For the sake of the reader's time and sanity, a full retelling of the next 7 years will not be included in this tale. Aside from the fact that working damn near a thousand concerts will fry anyone's memory hole, including all the really juicy stories will undoubtedly get me sued by someone. So prepare for a quantum leap of sorts...if you want a detailed point by point rundown of everything I did between 2001 and 2008, feel free to ask and I'll shoot you off a resume.
Fast forward to Spring 2008....I'd been employed with the same company (which was now Live Nation) for 7 years. Within that span of time, I'd crawled my way up through the sponsorship ranks, transitioned to event production, and was now riding high as the Director of Operations for our two outdoor amphitheatres. I'd produced and/or managed nearly a thousand concerts, oversaw a staff of hundreds, and had plenty of war stories to keep the local bar entertained for years. I had my dream job, life was good....and about to change forever.
I was now 32 years old, and the demands of my position were taking their toll. I was rarely home during the summer, which contrary to what our modern calender indicated seemed to last for 8 months. Sleep became a luxury, and my diet seemed to consist of Marlboros, coffee, and copious amounts of Red Bull. Professionally, I was at the top of my game, but physically headed for an epic wreck. To add to matters, my wife and I were expecting our first child in a few short months. It was decision time.
I had often watched the other fathers I worked with and wondered how they managed to balance their family and professional life. Why it was that for all the time they put in at work, they still seemed overly stressed and ill-prepared. How they managed to work the same hours that I did and still had time to go to their kid's soccer games. The short answer was, they didn't. That internal fire that burns inside every concert professional pushed them to keep going at the expense of their family, their health, and their spiritual core. What they didn't see was that they were worse managers for it. This imbalance had caused them to lose their passion for the game, replacing it with an empty need for directionless and sloppy momentum. They were tired, worn, unhappy men. And I was on a path to becoming one of them.
I knew I still loved the game. So I decided to stop playing it.
Chapter Four -Birth/Rebirth
I resigned my position with Live Nation in September 2008, and professional momentum be damned, determined to spend the first years of my daughter's life dedicated to her. During those first few months, I slid quite naturally into the role of stay-at-home father. After all, I'd basically herded cats (drunk, often violent cats) for a living before she was born, and there also seemed to be less bodily fluids involved than in rock n' roll. As time wore on however, I began to feel that old familiar itch. I wanted, NEEDED to get back into doing events. However, I had to do so in a way that protected the passion that drew me to the event industry in the first place, and would ensure that I would never fall pray to the false notions that easily ruin events, hinder professionals, and destroy personal lives. I decided that for the foreseeable future, I would strike out on my own.Thus, Sytelabs was born. It began as a casual exercise...a blog post here, a random freelance gig there. As time passed (and my daughter grew), it became a somewhat consistent operation, with little sign of slowing down. I may one day return to outside employment, but for now I had come full circle...the young punk once more, scrapping and hustling for the love of the game.
Only this time, with a much better mustache.
