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April 4, 2008
By: JOHN MACKOWIAK
Floyd stands in front of Black Betty in the blacktop driveway behind a white duplex house on Central Ave. in Fredonia, NY.
It’s up to Floyd and Betty to get a bunch of band equipment to the Hairy Lemon—the underused bar that occupies the second floor of another bar, Muldoons.
Born in 1986, Floyd has seen better days. He’s 22 years old now, and age hasn’t served him well. He’s rusty and quickly decaying.
Floyd is an old Chevrolet Conversion Van. For a number of years now, he has been a vital member of Western New York band Colors in the Air (CITA), transporting them to shows around the country. Rust eats away at Floyd’s once impeccable paint job. Most of his body is a reddish brown, but he sports some impressive beige detailing.
The younger Black Betty always looks sharp. Packed with guitars, amps, drums, merchandise and everything in between, she is CITA’s trailer.
Usually, Betty’s black paneling, accentuated with silver studs, glimmers in the sunlight, but today, the sun’s not shining.
The sun disappeared behind an expanse of dark gray storm clouds, hours ago. Rain started falling about an hour earlier. The clouds haven’t exploded yet, but small raindrops are trickling down from the sky.
CITA are playing the Hairy Lemon tonight. Two additional Fredonia bands, Ghost of a Stranger and Andrew Halliday and Friends, will open for CITA. The show is slated to start two and a half hours from now—at 10 p.m.—but Floyd has been causing trouble.
Even though their shirts are getting wet, lead singer Brian Miller, drummer Pat Williams and bassist Ryan Cullinane are wandering around the driveway, mulling over their transportation options.
“We got Floyd to start, but I don’t know if he’ll be able to pull Black Betty down there,” Williams says.
“Nothing ever really goes smoothly for us, so I don’t know,” Miller responds and then coughs twice.
If Floyd cooperates, starts back up and lugs Black Betty over to the Hairy Lemon, it will be his last run. CITA is already shopping for a new van.
Just to be safe, though, the band wants to find another vehicle with a trailer hitch to serve as a last resort. They remember that their housemate’s red jeep has the capabilities to haul a trailer. The jeep is parked across the driveway from Floyd.
Williams, along with Miller and Cullinane, walk over to the jeep to assess the situation. The hitch has a cover on it. Cullinane, wearing a pair of tan crocs, bends down to pull the cover off.
After one quick tug, the cover doesn’t budge. Cullinane, who has a blossoming mustache on his upper lip, stands up and puts a hand on his hip.
“It’s stuck,” Cullinane says. “It’s rubber, so you need to, like, drill into it and then pry it out.”
“Hah. I got just the thing,” Williams says. A mischievous smile spreads across his face.
Williams struts over to his Chevy Malibu. While waiting for Williams, Miller crouches down to take a look at the immovable hitch cover.
He grips the cover, takes a breath and tugs as hard as he can. Miller is not a big guy. In fact, he’s medium-sized at best, but he looks big compared to the thin frames of Williams and Cullinane.
He grunts. He might have moved it a centimeter or so, but he quickly gives up.
“God, my fingers hurt,” Miller says, opening wide and then tightly closing his hands. “I feel like I have fucking arthritis.”
“Maybe that was the wall,” Williams says as he walks back over to the jeep. A black-cased tool kit is under his arm.
Miller didn’t want to elaborate anymore than saying that last night, for some reason, he thought it would be a good idea to try to put a hole in a wall.
“All right, check this out,” Williams says.
He opens the black box and pulls out a power drill. He attaches a drill bit and leans into the trailer hitch. Their housemate—the owner of the Jeep—was in the house, unaware that his hitch cover was about to be destroyed.
Floyd just sat there, across the way, lonely and underappreciated. The band bought him for only $400. He carried CITA and their equipment throughout the United States during last summer’s tour. They visited 40 different states with him, racking up thousands of miles along the way.
Williams starts grinding away at each one of the four corners of the hitch cover. After he finishes drilling all four holes, he sticks a screwdriver in the hole on the top right.
“I hope you guys don’t do this to my stuff when I’m in the house,” Cullinane says.
He goes back and forth on the two top holes, sticking in the screwdriver and prying. Williams gradually gets the cover to budge a few centimeters.
“Let me try,” Cullinane says.
Williams moves aside. Cullinane grabs the yellow handle of the screwdriver and continues prying.
After a few minutes, he puts the tool down and begins pulling on the cover.
“I think I’m making headway,” Cullinane says between breaths. “Who’s the man?”
Nobody responds, but he did make progress. The thing probably only needed a couple more jerks.
“Hey, it’s another couple centimeters,” Cullinane says.
Williams wraps his fingers around the hitch for one last try. His long, dark blond hair falls in his face as he pulls back on the cover with all of the strength in his thin yet muscularly defined arms.
After a couple of seconds, the cover slowly embarks on its exit from the hitch. With one last heave, Williams pulls the cover right off of the jeep. He smiles and hoists it above his head.
“Let’s get out of the rain for a bit,” Williams says, hitch cover in-hand.
These three Fredonia students, along with guitarist and Buffalo resident Justin Walker, make up Colors in the Air. They’re been a force in this village’s small but vibrant music scene. CITA has been one of Fredonia’s top bands since their birth—only three years ago.
It took these guys only six months to get signed. Early on, they impressed a rep from Leakmob Records—formerly known as the Workshop Recording Group—at a showcase show. Leakmob signed CITA to a five record deal.
Since then, the band has burgeoned and gained attention not only in Western New York, but also in other major markets, such as Dallas.
While touring the country—in Floyd—last summer, they played a show in the big D. Williams recalls the audience immediately responding to their sound by crowding to the front of the stage. Since that show last summer, CITA has received regular radio airplay in Dallas.
Devising Attack Plans
Miller and Williams hustle up the stairs, skipping steps as they climb the dusty flight of carpeted stairs that leads to their apartment. A thin steel pipe, which has been painted white, lines the stairway. It serves as a railing.
Their place looks like almost any other college apartment. Beer cans have taken over the coffee table. A Guitar Hero controller leans against the wall. Music posters are plastered on the walls. A Bob Marley poster can looks the room at a poster for Green Day’s Dookie album. A large portrait of John Lennon’s profile points towards a wall that has stop sign posted on it. The sign has the word, “Bush,” spray painted underneath “STOP.”
A few young men—some who live there, some who don’t—fill the couches that are aimed towards a flat-screen TV. The guys are sitting around watching an episode from the new season of A Shot of Love with Tila Tequila.
Miller, wearing a solid-colored, dark gray t-shirt over a white undershirt, heads for one of the couches, while Williams and Cullinane remain standing in order to devise a plan of attack.
Williams and Miller will head to Wal-Mart. Miller needs a power amplifier for his keyboard, and Williams needs to get change for the door—there’s a $2 cover for over, $3 for under. Cullinane will stay at the house to wait for Walker who is on his way into town from Buffalo.
Miller and Williams ramble down the stairs and hop into Williams’s tan Malibu. A sticker that reads, “CITA” is stuck to the bumper. A stack of concert posters rests in the back seat. Williams fingers through the cash that he plans on getting changed into smaller bills.
“We should get something for the people that get there first,” Williams says.
“Yeah? What do you want to get?” Miller asks.
“You want to do glow sticks again?”
“It’d be great if we could do glow sticks for everyone—and wet t-shirts,” Miller says, jokingly but optimisticly.
They didn’t have enough money to get that many glow sticks, but Williams was still into the idea.
“Glow sticks, it is,” Williams quickly responds.
It didn’t take long to get to Wal-Mart. There’s never traffic in Fredonia. The place is crowded but not packed—same as it usually is.
Miller and Williams split up. They had to hurry; show time was less than two hours away. Miller heads to electronics. Williams heads towards the hunting section.
Williams approaches the fishing poles and hunting rifles, but before he gets there, he spots a blue vest—the clear marking of a Wal-Mart employee—and throws a question in the vest’s direction.
“Do you guys have glow sticks?” Williams asks.
“Well, we have some over here, but there are some cheaper ones in the toys,” says the blue-vested employee. A thick caterpillar-like mustache occupies his upper lip.
“Oh, with the cheap stuff?”
“Yes. They’re in the inexpensive section,” the mustache says. He sounded offended at Williams calling his employer’s products cheap.
88 cents for one glow stick. Williams takes a box of ten and heads to electronics to look for Miller.
Miller, with his cell phone on his ear, wanders aimlessly down an aisle of CDs.
“I don’t know where they are. I can’t find anyone. Oh wait,” Miller says, as he runs into another blue-vest.
He snuffles his runny nose and asks for directions to a cheap power amplifier. The blue vest leads him to their location. Miller stands in front of a rack of electrical cords and electronic accessories, while he debates with Williams over what he should get.
There’s one that’s $12 and in blue packaging and another in red that costs $10.
Miller goes with the two dollar cost savings and grabs the power amp in red. Power crisis averted.
They got the cover off of the jeep’s hitch, and Miller got what he needed to play his keyboard. However, those were just the beginnings of the challenges that Colors in the Air have faced and will face in the build up to their show.
It’s dead week—the week prior to finals. Student groups aren’t allowed to meet, and the kids in the dorms have to be quiet all day and night. It’s a week of silence, designated to ensure that students have time to study. It also means that fliers for off-campus events cannot be posted on campus bulletin boards.
The guys asked the Campus Life office to approve the poster for their show, but the authorities said no. They tried to stealthily stick their signs on the boards, but every flier they posted was quickly ripped down by the powers that be.
They had no avenue for advertisement. Some of their fans would be stuck inside studying. The rain continues to steadily fall. Miller was coming down with something—a cold, maybe. And to make things even worse, CITA was being forced to compete against the popular Wednesday night drink specials at two of the other bars in the village—BJ’s and the Ellicottville Brewing Company.
BJ’s had dollar pints. At EBC, it was quad night—any four shots in any drink for four dollars.
The odds were stacked against CITA, but they were confident that they would see a good turnout.
On the ride back to the apartment, luck started coming their way. Williams gets a call from Ashling—the owner of the Hairy Lemon and Muldoons.
She tells him to forget lugging all of their equipment up the stairs to the second floor, where the Hairy Lemon is located. Instead, for tonight, they can play downstairs in her more popular bar, Muldoons.
In reality, it’s only a change in the number of stairs you would have to walk up to see the band, but in a college town, where people frequent only certain bars, the guys thought it would make a pretty big difference. They would probably attract a bunch of first time listeners, who just happen to walk into the bar, attracted by either their familiarity with the place or by the noise of the bands.
Floyd’s Swan Song
Williams pulls his Malibu into his Central Ave. driveway. Cullinane is waiting in the house. Walker had just arrived from Buffalo and was sitting in his black SUV.
Walker braves the rain and gets out of his car when he sees the Malibu. His girlfriend, Jena, waits in the vehicle to avoid getting wet. A black winter cap covers Walker’s long blond hair. Cullinane joins them outside.
With show only an hour and a half away, the guys decide to give Floyd a try. If he refuses to move for his swan song journey downtown, they’ll use their housemate’s jeep.
Trusting the other three young men of CITA to get Floyd moving, Williams gets back into his Malibu. He’s going to meet the rest of the band, Floyd and Black Betty at Muldoons.
As he rolls down Central Ave. towards Temple St., Williams looks into his rear view mirror.
“He’s doing it. Floyd’s on his way. He’s right behind us,” Williams says.
It might be Floyd’s last ride. He’ll get the equipment to Muldoon’s tonight, but how much longer can this foursome depend on their aging friend? They’re shopping for a new van, but everything that they have seen so far has been over-priced and beaten down—cigarette burns and dents have been a common theme.
They’re looking for a cheap and dependable replacement for Floyd. If you have a van that you want to get rid of, let the guys know—seriously.
Williams’s Malibu, along with Floyd and Black Betty, snatch up the parking spots in front of Muldoons. The bar is dark. Williams checks the door, but it’s locked. He calls Ashling to figure out where everyone is.
“Hey… Yeah, we’re here, but the door’s locked… all right… see ya,” Williams says into his phone. “I got to run to the liquor store to grab the keys.”
Williams runs around the corner and through the parking lot that connects Water St. to Eagle St.
Miller stands outside the locked, dark bar. Rain falls onto his short blond hair. He furrows his eyebrows and smirks.
“Who would give Pat keys?” he asks, sarcastically.
Williams must be pretty quick because he was back from the liquor store in no time. Still jogging and out of breath, he heads for the door, keys jingling in his hand.
As Williams opens the door, a flood of awful stench rushes out from the bar. It smells like old liquor, stale popcorn and sweat. Cullinane is the first to brave the smell.
“Aw, it smells like dick in here,” he says.
Muldoons is lifeless. When night falls, it’s one of the wilder bars in Fredonia. Absent is the bright neon light of the beer signs. Missing is the loud, bassy pop music. Gone are the girls in low-cut shirts and mini-skirts and the guys in their Hollister button downs.
The bright purple walls and the black and white checkered floor feel different. Metaphorically and literally, the floor isn’t sticky—must have just received a fresh mopping.
The Set Up
CITA—and the few groupies that accompany them—get right to work. They open up Black Betty and start lugging in all of the equipment, while dodging raindrops.
Guitars. A drum kit. Microphones and mic stands. A keyboard. Bass Guitars. XLR cables. Merchandise. It’s all inside Betty. There’s a lot of stuff, but it won’t take long to unload with everybody helping.
As soon as all of the equipment is inside, the band starts setting up. There’s no stage, so they put their equipment down towards the back of the bar, right in front of the pool table.
They each go about their work separately.
Miller sets up the microphones. One of the mics has been seriously knocked around. It’s been badly dented in multiple spots. Miller digs through a box of XLR cables to find the cords that are still functional and of the right lengths.
He still has to set up his keyboard and his guitars. He’ll use three different guitars throughout the course of their set.
Cullinane puts his bass guitar’s strap over his shoulder. He hooks up his amp and effects pedal.
Williams strategically places his bass drum, snare, cymbals and the rest of his kit right in front of the pool table. Most of the kit shares a finished dark orange-brown wood look. Cullinane says that he thinks the drums look similar to hard candy root beer barrels.
While Walker starts working on his complex guitar set up, Ghost of a Stranger’s lead singer, Pete Torrey, comes into the bar with a bunch of his equipment in his arms.
Even more so than in CITA, in Ghost of a Stranger, it’s every man for himself. Torrey brings his own equipment, while each of the other men in the band is responsible for getting their own gear to the gigs.
“I don’t give a shit about them,” Torrey says, sarcastically. “They can get their own stuff here.”
Torrey immediately walks up to Walker, and in awe, he gawks at the guitarist’s gear. Walker has taken his three VOX amps and one of the amp’s cases to build what will become a wall of sound. On the left side, he stacked two amps on top of each other. On the right, the third amp sits on top of a black case that, in white paint, has “CITA” emblazoned on it.
“I love that set up,” Torrey says, clearly impressed.
Moments after Torrey came in, Andrew Halliday—the leader of the threesome, Andrew Halliday and Friends—struts through the wide open front door. He strolls with a sense of confidence and conviction. Not as easily impressed as Torrey, Halliday takes a gander at Walker’s amp configuration.
The only problem is that Walker’s wall of sound is blocking the path to the women’s bathroom. There’s another bathroom upstairs in The Hairy Lemon, so Walker and Cullinane are quick to say that it’s probably okay to make the ladies walk up to the second floor to use the bathroom. Williams is hesitant.
“Yeah, but we should probably call Ashling on this one,” he says.
Williams pulls out his cell phone and looks for Ashling’s number in his contacts.
The phone conversation confirms Williams’s doubts.
“We’re gonna have to make a path,” he says.
Walker drops his head and shuffles over to his amp set up. He’ll have to move it over three feet.
Meanwhile, a big, burly guy with short dark hair and glasses walks in the front door like he runs the place. He’s wearing a black shirt. The back of the shirt—in purple lettering—reads, “STAFF.”
“All right guys, I gotta see some I.D.s,” he says, arrogantly.
Collectively, everyone in the bar rolls their eyes. Halliday and Torrey, along with the groupies that are sitting around, walk over to Staff and show him their driver’s licenses.
After verifying that everyone was of legal drinking age, Staff stamped the sufficiently aged drinkers’ hands with a red bingo dabber.
Then, he notices a young lady sitting at the end of the bar. It’s Walker’s girlfriend, Jena. She has medium-length brown hair, a cute tanned face and a friendly smile. Staff approaches her. He asks for her I.D. A nervous smile stretches across her face.
She quickly digs through her over-sized hand bag, looking for her billfold. After finding it, she pulls out a card and hands it to Staff.
He scans it with a meticulous eye. He looks back up at Jena and walks over to the other end of the bar, her I.D. between his fingers.
He reaches behind the bar and grabs a royal blue duffel bag. He pulls out a book that contains images of all states’ legal I.D. cards. Holding Jena’s I.D. in one hand, he thumbs through the book in an attempt to assure that the young lady could, in fact, drink.
Staff closes the book, raises his eyebrows and grins smugly.
“You gotta go,” he says to Jena.
She lets loose a guilty smile, before a confused expression takes over. She opens up her bag and digs through it.
“No, you have to leave,” Staff says.
“Can’t I just show you my other I.D.?” She asks.
“Sorry, but you need to go.”
Walker puts down his guitar and leaves his effects pedal on its lonesome.
“If she goes, we’re not playing,” Walker interjects sternly.
Staff shrugs his shoulders with a “sorry, it’s not up to me” demeanor.
“If you would have just showed me your honest to goodness I.D.,” Staff says, shaking his head, to Jena.
“She’s my girlfriend, so let’s not go there,” Walker says. “Just show him your I.D.”
Staff relents. He examines the license and walks away. Another crisis averted. Jena bashfully connects eyes with her boyfriend and remains seated at the bar, bingo dab-less.
Leakmob Records signed CITA to a five record deal. They released their first album—On The Inside—last summer.
They’ve been approached by other independent labels, but CITA is committed to Leakmob. Obviously, they want major label distribution, but they’re prepared to wait for it.
“Maroon 5 was a band for like 10 years before they had a hit song on the radio,” Cullinane said. “So, we’re ready to put the work in.”
How Grounding Kit Works
Cullinane said that four albums from now, they hope to ink a contract with a large independent or a major record label.
Final Preparations
Miller is still trying to get his keyboard to work. He struggles with the power amp. He’s holding the keyboard on his knee, while leaning on the electronic dart board. He has tried almost every one of the adapters that were included with the device.
“Work! You got plenty of power running through you,” Miller shouts at the keyboard. “I hate my fucking life.”
As CITA puts their finishing touches on the makeshift stage, two female bartenders walk behind the bar to start stocking up for the night. One of the women is a tall blond. The other, a short brunette, wearing a navy blue headband in her hair.
Staff brings four cases of Bud Light. The bartenders put them in the cooler. The blond grabs a white maker and heads over to the dry erase board at the end of the bar.
She uncaps the marker and starts writing.
“Drink Specials,” she writes. “$1.50 Bottles & Wells.”
Miller keeps trying the adapters. Eventually, he finds the one that fits. After a brief moment of celebration—perhaps “relief of frustration” would be better a better phrasing—Miller carefully places the piano on top of two wooden stools.
With Miller finally done getting his stuff together, the band heads back to their instruments.
Sitting behind his drums, Williams counts off CITA’s sound check. Muldoon’s, which was near complete silence aside from chatter and shuffling feet, erupts with guitar riffs, drum hits and steady bass.
They play for a few minutes, asking each other what levels need to be boosted and which ones need to be brought down. Torrey and Halliday give their sound levels a thumbs up. After Miller decides that the levels are as good as they’re going to get them, the sound check ends.
Hazmat Grounding Kit
“What do we have for a set?” Miller asks, rubbing his throat. “We can’t too long. I’m sick.”
“I got this beauty of a set,” Cullinane says, reaching into his bass guitar’s case.
It’s a set that they ran at a show last week. Cullinane rambles of the names of a bunch of their songs. Their most popular songs were there. “Raindrops.” “Phetamine.” “Will You Stay With Me.” “Maybe Tonight.”
“Yeah, let’s do that,” Williams says.
Then, it became a waiting game. It’s already 9:40 p.m. The show is supposed to start in twenty minutes, but the only people in the bar are the three bands, a couple of girlfriends and a few groupies.
Ghost of a Stranger heads over to the bar’s beer pong table. It’s Torrey and Bassist Greg Gebhard against Guitarist Adam Korbesmeyer and Drummer Josh Martin.
Andrew Halliday and Friends sits at the bar sipping on draft beer and rum-and-coke.
Colors in the Air stands outside the bar on the front stoop under the overhang, avoiding the rain. Williams and Cullinane light up cigarettes.
A stream of water flows down the curbs of Water St. A waterfall forms along the back side of Floyd.
One of their groupies asks if they’re worried that people won’t come. He points out the obstacles keeping people from downtown—a lack of awareness of the event, the rain and the drink specials elsewhere.
“People will come,” Williams says, releasing a chest-full of smoke. “I’m not worried.”
“The rain sucks, but we usually fill this place up,” Cullinane says.
“It’ll happen,” Williams adds. “It’s the last rock show of the semester.”
“Yeah, but it’s tough to turn down quad night,” Miller says. “I mean, I want one, too.”
The clock keeps ticking, but the bar stays empty. Torrey joins the guys outside the bar. He asks that inquisitive groupie for a cigarette. Miller asks to bum one off the guy, too. The groupie tosses Torrey his white Bic lighter.
“You shouldn’t be smoking that Pete,” Miller says to Torrey. “You just quit.”
“Yeah? Neither should you. You’re a singer,” Torrey says.
“So are you,” Miller snaps back.
The singers shrug their shoulders, as they take long drags off of the groupie’s Camel Lights.
This summer, CITA is headed on tour again. They’re going to travel up and down the East coast as part of “There Will Be Tour,” which is being financed by the same people who produced Academy Award-nominated film There Will Be Blood.
The Working Title, out of Charleston, S.C., and Long Island’s Edison Glass will join CITA on “There Will Be Tour.”
The Bands Are Ready, But The Crowd’s Not
It’s already after 10 p.m., and Muldoon’s is practically vacant. The few there are sitting around drinking. Maybe there are just too many variables keeping people from Muldoons. Some are stuck studying. Some are afraid of the rain. Some are sucking down drinks at the cheaper bars.
Andrew Halliday’s drummer, Kenny Christensen, holding an icy well drink, throws his thoughts into the fray. Williams, Torrey and Staff stand by, listening.
“I’ve come to learn that people in this town don’t respect show times,” Christensen says like a true street philosopher. “Tell them to come at ten, and they’ll come an hour later.”
“Well, then, let’s hold off an hour,” Williams says. “Halliday can go on at eleven.”
Muldoon’s remains largely uninhabited for the next hour. The clock moves slowly. Halliday stands on the sidelines, waiting to shred his guitar.
Throughout the second half of the ten o’clock hour, people start filing in. The bar is nowhere near full, but people start slowly trickling into Muldoons.
“It’s gettin’ bumpin’ in here,” Torrey says, sarcastically. Only three or four people were at the bar.
Williams mans the door with Staff. Staff checks I.D.s. Williams takes the cover. Buffalo’s Top 40 radio station Kiss 98.5-FM plays in the background.
“You guys gotta get started soon,” Staff says. “It’s getting late.”
“Yeah, I know it, but we have to wait for people,” Williams says.
“Once the bands start playing, they’ll be drawn in by the noise,” Staff argues.
“And we got those lights,” Williams says. “Noise and lights are the biggest attractions.”
Williams and Staff stop talking just long enough to realize what’s being played on the bar’s stereo system. It’s Taylor Swift’s latest country pop single, “Our Song.”
“What the hell is this?” Torrey says, expressing everyone’s feelings.
But Taylor Swift sings on in the background, as Halliday takes the stage.
The Show Must Go On—With or Without an Audience
The talented guitarist strums his first note at 10:58 p.m.—almost an hour after the show was scheduled to start. He seductively runs his fingers up and down his guitar. He squeezes impeccable sound out of it.
A student of classical guitar at SUNY Fredonia, Halliday puts on an exhibition. He has a drummer and bassist playing behind him, but it’s easy to ignore them. The audience’s attention is focused solely on Halliday’s guitar.
Guitar solos dominate the bluesy-rock set. During one of his solos, he walks his guitar over to a couple of young ladies, who are sitting off to the side of the stage.
Wearing a tight, gray ringer t-shirt, Halliday presents himself to the girls. They look impressed, as he rips his guitar to shreds. He makes orgasm faces throughout the entire solo.
It goes on for a bit too long, though, and it gets awkward for rest of the crowd. Sensing that, Halliday pulls out and rejoins the rest of his audience.
After Halliday raps up his set, Ghost of a Stranger—the 2008 Fred Fest Battle of the Bands winner—takes the stage. They walk up to the stage from all different parts of the bar and come together around the dormant drum kit.
All three bands agreed to use the same drum kit, so the time in between sets is minimal.
Torrey, a member of one of Fredonia’s fraternities, attracted a bunch of his frat brothers to the bar. Most of them are drunk and rowdy, but that only makes for a better show.
Ghost is quite the change from Halliday. While Halliday plays long, drawn out blues rock epics, Ghost rocks a fast and quick Killers-esque sound.
After their first song, one of Torrey’s “brothers” confessed the fiery passion that he holds within him.
“I love Ghost!” he shouts.
“We love you, too,” Torrey says, calmly.
However, Torrey notices that there aren’t many people showing their love. There are only a few people in the back of the bar by the band. Everybody else is either at the bar drinking or in the front of the bar, avoiding the noise.
“Come up to the front,” Torrey pleads. “Because it makes us wet.”
The sexual reference works. The small crowd that has taken root in Muldoons slowly mills its way to the back of the bar.
Ghost doesn’t wait for the audience. They jump right into their next song. The tune inspires the crowd, as they finally start responding to the music. Head nodding and swaying is prevalent.
Muldoon’s has finally come alive. The purple walls have regained the vibrant liveliness that exudes from them on most nights.
“It might be dead week on-campus,” Torrey says. “But it’s not dead in here.”
The crowd responds with shouts and applause.
“If you got a drink, raise your glass high and say cheers to the fuckin’ people next to you,” Torrey commands his audience. The bar obeys.
By the end of the set, most of the people in the bar flood to the front of the makeshift stage.
For Ghost’s closing song, Torrey puts down his guitar and sets up a Korg Synthesizer. He puts on a pair of shades that looked like they were straight from the 80s. In reality, though, they were a give-away at this year’s Fred Fest.
Perhaps it’s Torrey’s way of bragging after his band won the battle, or maybe it’s that he looks sweet in them. Regardless of his motivation, the crowd is wet with anticipation for Ghost’s last song and for CITA, who’s waiting on deck.
The audience is bigger, louder and drunker. The band takes advantage of it. Torrey gets the synth blaring and grabs the mic. He looks over the crowd with his deep set eyes and excitedly sings the lyrics.
Torrey and guitarist Korbesmeyer violently dance in the center of the stage, convincing the crowd to join them. While some individuals in the crowd wildly jump around, most of the audience dances conservatively.
Colors on the Stage
Whether it was done intentionally or not, CITA is built like the pop bands of the 1960’s. It might be stereotypical for a rock band, but it’s a model that has worked time and time again.
You’ve got your heart throb, the shy one, a goofball and the dude (the guy who, in the words of Buffalo Bills Running Back Marshawn Lynch, “is just straight chillin’”).
Miller is the heart throb. Walker’s the shy one. The goofball is Cullinane, and Williams is the dude.
They fit those archetypes when they’re on stage and when you talk to them one-on-one.
Their sound is more complex than The Monkees, but CITA’s member structure follows the pop band formula.
The crowd is still not what CITA usually sees. On a better night—no rain, better advertisement, no finals, no competing drink specials—the bar would be packed. It has happened before, and they guys were expecting it to happen again.
Unfortunately, they were disappointed.
CITA takes the stage, only to be faced with another challenge. Inexplicably, the cable that connects Miller’s keyboard to the audio board has disappeared. Miller scrambles to the other side of the pool table and digs through the band’s spare equipment.
“We’re having some technical difficulties,” Cullinane explains. “But then, we’re gonna rock your faces off. How ‘bout that?”
The drunken members of the crowd scream. Some of the more sober individuals sigh or roll their eyes. They’re visibly and understandably antsy after waiting all night to see CITA.
Cullinane—wearing a khaki-colored messenger cap with his curly dark blond hair protruding from underneath—awkwardly tried to keep the crowd engaged and excited.
“So I’d say tonight’s been a night of rock and roll,” Cullinane says. “Andrew Halliday and Friends, Ghost of a—battle of the bands winner—Ghost of a Stranger and we’re gonna do our thing in just a fuckin’ second.”
The crowd spits out a few cheers before, some guy, who looks to be extremely wasted, starts shouting inappropriate comments about Miller’s reproductive organs.
“Miller’s got a big one,” the drunk shouts.
Still hustling to figure out what to do with the piano, Miller only responds with a nod.
Cullinane continues to babble on, but he comes up with something relatively meaningful in the middle of all of the nonsense.
“This is my last show as a Fredonia student. It’s kinda depressing,” Cullinane says. “But it’s not that depressing because everyone wants to get out of Fredonia.”
He shouldn’t speak for everyone, but things aren’t promising for the upstate economy.
To avoid continuing the debacle that the piano has caused throughout the day, Miller scraps the keyboard. He doesn’t want anyone to leave the bar before they get a chance to hear his band.
As soon as Miller put the keyboard away, Williams slaps his drumsticks together to count off the first song of the set.
Andrew Halliday and Friends and Ghost of a Stranger fulfilled their duties as opening acts. CITA didn’t have to worry about working the crowd into frenzy. The audience was already raucous before Williams hit his sticks together.
Two guitars, a bass, drums, Miller’s voice and uncontainable energy blend together to create a sound and a performance that’s appealing to everyone ears and eyes.
Most of the people at the show had seen CITA before, but there were a few people who were seeing them for the first time. At the onset, the two groups of concert goers were easily differentiated. However, by the time the band hit the bridge of the first song, almost everyone had blended together.
CITA engages the audience. It’s something that many young bands are incapable of doing.
After the band crosses the bridge of their first song, they dive into a vicious break down.
Walker, wearing a black t-shirt, almost knocks over his microphone stand, as he repeatedly snaps his upper body down and then back up.
While Williams pounds his drums with fury, Miller sprints back towards the bass drum, plants a foot on it and then jumps off. The small but energetic crowd erupts in screaming and clapping.
Out of breath, Miller leans into his mic.
“Could someone go to the bar and get me a Red Bull and vodka?” he asks.
A loyal male fan hurries to Miller’s side.
“Here, take some of this,” he says.
Miller moves the straw to side and puts his mouth to the glass. He chugs the fan’s drink. The poor guy can only look on in dismay.
“Oh, that’s bull shit,” he says, dejected.
At every rock show—it never seems to fail, especially when alcohol is involved—someone starts asking the band to take off their shirts.
This show was no different. Many bands ignore the pleas and simply move on to the next tune, but CITA is different than those bands. They have a special relationship with their audience. They quickly make fans out of the masses, and their fans usually become their friends even quicker.
Once the first person yells it, swarms of people follow. A chorus of, “Take your shirts off,” echoes throughout the crowd.
Miller listens to his audience and rips off his shirt. It doesn’t take long for Cullinane and Williams to follow suit. Walker holds out.
Judging by the response of people that are gathered in Muldoon’s, there’s nothing that drunken college students love more than a shirtless band. The concert-goers roar.
“It’s not like I have a ton of muscle or anything,” Miller says. “But it’s cool. Thanks.”
“It’s convenient that we took our shirts off because this next song is about sex,” Cullinane says.
“Raindrops!” someone yells. Their fans know CITA’s material well. “Raindrops” is a track off of On The Inside.
As Williams composes himself to guide his band into the next song, Cullinane looks over at Walker and realizes that their guitarist still hasn’t exposed himself.
“Wait. We can’t start till Justin takes off his shirt,” Cullinane says.
With a sheepish smirk, Walker refuses. But with the crowd’s support behind him, Cullinane stands his ground. For his parents’ sake, let’s hope Walker doesn’t always give into peer pressure so easily.
After Walker gets shirtless, Miller asks the audience for some help on the next song’s vocals. He breaks down the “fourth wall” that actors always talk about—the thing that separates them from the audience—and invites a select few to get behind one of the microphones.
Four CITA fans take Miller up on the offer. They put their arms around each other and wait for their opportunity to scream the lyrics.
The song, Raindrops, does, indeed, have a sexual subtext.
“Laying next to you,” Miller sings. “Oh, it feels—being inside you—oh, it feels good.”
The foursome of back-up singers was hesitant to sing that first line, but they shout along with Miller during the next stanza and the chorus.
“You’re comin’ again,” they shout with Miller. “And leaving again and comin’ again, but do you even care? If I wasn’t there? Where do you go?”
Miller and Cullinane, playing next to each other, violently bob up and down in unison at the entrance to the chorus. Looking excessively content with himself and his band, Cullinane tosses his curly hair around.
As CITA rolls through the second verse and into another chorus, almost the entire audience starts singing along with Miller and his back-up vocalists.
College Band Overcomes Obstacles
They did it. They pulled it off. Despite everything that was stacked against them, Western New York’s indie rock phenoms played yet another remarkable show.
Mother Nature. SUNY Fredonia’s dead week. Final exams and research papers. Unbeatable drink specials from competing bars. Miller’s illness. An aging van.
Nothing could stop CITA from rocking Fredonia.
It was the last rock show of the semester, and CITA saved their catchiest song for the end. It’s not a bad idea; maybe they’ll end up sticking a song in someone’s head for the entire summer.
The song, “Maybe Tonight,” is more infectiously catchy than Miller’s cold. It’s the opening cut on their debut release.
“We’ll play one more song, but then, we’re partying,” Miller says to the eager gaggle of Fredonians.
Before they break into the song, though, a person sitting at the bar catches the band off guard.
“Obama!” he yells.
At first perplexed at hearing the Illinois senator’s name shouted at their show, Cullinane doesn’t shy away from the political commentary.
“Yeah, Obama, baby. Bros before hoes,” he says.
“Whatever, as long as it’s not McCain,” Miller chimes in. “It’s like Bush all over again.”
It’s an odd way to open up a song, but it fits with the theme of “Maybe Tonight.”
Diy Grounding Kit
Again, the foursome of back-up singers breaks through the fourth wall. This time, however, they invite themselves onto the stage.
Still shirtless, Miller steps up to the microphone. His band begins playing behind him, as he sings the opening words of the song.
“Maybe tonight,” he sings. And then, he releases a “wa-ooooo.”
The audience jumps up and down. The Muldoon’s black and white checkered floor shakes under the boisterous crowd.
Then, with the first verse, Miller comments on the political atmosphere of the 21st century.
“What’s wrong with the world today?” Miller asks rhetorically. “The government’s taking over it all. And, there’s missiles headed our way.”
Miller takes it a step further. He gets more specific, calling on his listeners to think about global warming, the environment and globalization.
“They say we’re safe but… The ocean’s getting higher,” he sings. “The air is getting darker. And the world keeps getting smaller every day.”
It’s mature language for the first track on the band’s first album and the last track on this night, but the deep observations don’t take away from the fun. Regardless, there are very few people still sober enough to comprehend what’s being said.
There isn’t much space for the band to break the song down. The back-up singers had thoroughly clogged up the stage. Regardless, the shirtless foursome that is CITA finishes what they came to do.
They use every last trace of energy that they find inside themselves. They jockey for position on stage, thrash and sway and claw their way to the song’s conclusion.
Andrew Halliday, nodding to the music, captures footage of the event on his cell phone. Torrey holds his hands above his head and claps with the band. His expression, though, is one of hopeful envy.
The small and loyal crowd insanely screeches and hollers, as CITA pounds out the last notes.
Cullinane drops his bass and dives into the crowd. Exhilarated yet exhausted, he crawls out from the abyss of party-happy college students. He sprints to the bar.
Miller catches his breath on stage, looking like he’s ready for bed.
“Make sure you go home and study now,” he says
Learn more about Colors in the Air, by visiting…
www.myspace.com/colorsintheair or…
http://www.leakmob.com/ or hear a cut from their performance on WBFO’s Live in Allen Hall…
http://stream.publicbroadcasting.net/production/mp3/wbfo/local-wbfo-646218.mp3
18 Sep AT LIBERTY: DREW EVANS’S 2013 LIBERTY WALK INFINITI G37
Drew Evans, a Digital Leader / Senior Website Developer for a Health Communications / Market Access Firm is all about being unique, one-off, and one of a kind. He always wanted to create a build that represented his vision, theme from bumper to bumper, inside and outside. When asked this question often, he explains that there are pieces on this build which were never meant to fit, and took much time to fabricate and pull off. Many coupes can do what this build can, but never has a sedan. Drew prides himself on keeping the majority of aftermarket build parts JDM.
Drew started modifying cars back in high school. His first car was a 1996 Nissan Altima SE. He has always been a JDM enthusiast, and will always be. Drew has driven and owned Nissan / Infiniti his entire life. He started with his first Nissan to a 2006 Infiniti G35 Coupe, then to a 2011 Infiniti FX50S, and now currently to his 2013 G37 Sedan and his daily driven Juke Nismo. We suppose one can say he has come full circle with the sedan life. When he bought his Juke, he realized he had his G to the point of not daily driving it, it finally gave him the opportunity to really start customizing it.
The biggest appeal point of Drew’s car is the widebody sedan look. It is something that is rarely seen, and pulled off correctly. The amount of bodywork that went into fabricating / molding everything together was substantial.
Drew says, “I started immediately after purchasing the car in 2013. It was originally white, with very basic bolt-on modifications. After winning a few shows (best Infiniti) in 2014, I got a taste of competition and decided to go full throttle (pun intended) on a full all around build. I am now on build year 3.” We think Drew’s efforts have totally paid off with this one of a kind build that we had a chance to capture on our trip down to Harrisburg PA, for Lowlifestyle Junkstyles Junk Food meet earlier in the season.
The car scene has changed a lot. When Drew first started tinkering around a decade ago, there were a lot of new ideas and innovation. People had unique visions and ran with them; weren’t afraid to be different. Currently we see a lot of trendsetting now, and “follower builds” unfortunately. Drew mentions that he think for the betterment of the car scene there needs to be some more uniqueness out there. Be different! Innovation is a good thing! I think Drew’s creation nailed it.
Drew really enjoys the car scene first and foremost, seeing unique build ideas come to life; not copied and mimicked several times over. He also enjoys astronomy, so much so that his interior has a custom fiber optic starry headliner. As you can see in the picture above this is a totally unique experience and an idea. The and trunk also are eye catching. The twinkling trunk constellations are the zodiac birth signs of my wife and children. Drew’s other hobbies include hockey, scuba diving, travelling and spending time with his wife and 3 children. His family is the biggest support he has with his build, as it takes a lot time allocation and priorities.
Make: Infiniti
Model: G37XS
Body Style: Sedan
Year: 2013
Body Color: BASF Carizzma Candy Ruby Red
Nick name of CAR: Mars
Powertrain (Engine, Intake, Exhaust & Transmission):
-3.7L V6 Supercharged by Stillen / Vortech v3 / RTTuning
-EcuTek tuned (422AWHP / 346AWTQ)
-Turbosmart TS-0203-1022 BOV
-Frozenboost water to air intercooler
-Stillen Grounding Kit
-HKS M45HL Super Fire Racing Spark Plugs
-Fast Intentions Resonated High Flow Cats
-GThaus Meisterschaft Full Catback Exhaust
-GTSpec Strut Tower Bar
-Custom AWD/RWD & VDC on/off toggle switches
-Custom Gloss Black Painted Engine Bay
-Fully polished blower, charge pipe, throttle bodies, power steering, Mishimoto coolant overflow tank, and engine bay peripherals by Nick’s Blasting and Polishing
-HKS limited edition engine bay caps
-Front strut tower modification to extend lowering of car
-Polished engine bay bolts, washers, and stainless steel braided hoses (by Chris Whelan and West Coast Fasteners)
Exterior Appearance:
-World’s only Liberty Walk widebody G37 Sedan (custom fabricated from LB coupe kit)
-Custom BASF Carizzma Candy Ruby Red body paint
-GTR OEM hood vents on fabricated Infiniti OEM hood
-Infiniti OEM Sport Chin Spoiler Lip (customized)
-Carbon Signal Spec IN front lip splitter
-Carbon Signal V1 side rocker skirts (customized)
-Carbon Signal Rear Diffuser
-Custom Successful Automotive “Bella” duckbill rear trunk spoiler
-Custom Successful Automotive side skirt extensions
-Access Evolution side mirrors (custom blue)
-ShadowSpeed rear glass spoiler
-Custom 130mm GTHaus Meisterschaft exhaust tips
Interior Appearance:
-Exact Art Fabrications full custom Alcantara interior headliner and trunk with illuminated star headliner
-Interior custom star embroidery
-Interior accent pieces custom painted body color
-Edirb (Bride Japan) 032 Prestige reclining seats with premium protein leather
-Cusco 4 Point 3″ Racing Harnesses
-NRG innovations harness bar custom painted body color -Tommykaira custom LE shift knob
-Custom Carbon Fiber Element steering wheel
-Custom trunk subwoofer enclosures with illuminated Liberty Walk styled flares
-Custom trunk air setup with false wall and LED lighting
Audio:
-Bose 10-speaker audio system
-Two 12″ Alpine 4ohm Type-R Subwoofers
-Hifonics Brutus 1-Ohm 1500W Monoblock Series Super Class D Amplifier
-Two Shuriken 600 Watt Reserve Batteries
Lighting:
-OnEighty custom satin black painted housing headlights
-OnEighty custom quad LED orb halos with quad clear projectors
-OnEighty custom quad RGB demon eyes
-JDM LED Turn Signal Mirror Cover 4D
-Infiniti OEM LED Hyper Daytime Running Lights
-Ghozt Lighting custom rear signal and brake LED modules
-Custom Engine Bay LED strobes
-TRS custom projector LED fog lights
-Diode Dynamics 8000k HID driving bulbs
-Diode Dynamics complete custom interior, exterior, and turn signal LED conversion lighting
-Custom illuminated star headliner by ExactArt
-Custom RGB interior effect lighting by ExactArt
Suspension & Wheels:
-AirREX full Digital Air Management System with pillowball mounts
-SPC front and rear Camber Arms
-Cusco Sway Bars
-Custom front and rear wide fender fabrication
-Custom front strut tower fabrication
-Work Meister custom S1 3pc forged wheels in Gloss Black with Matte Graphite Face
(front 19×10.5 -8, rear 19×12 -13)
-Toyo Proxes R888 (front 295/30 ZR19, rear 325/30 ZR19)
-Work polished wheel hardware and accessories
-Akebono BBK front and rear calipers matching body color
-Stoptech Street Performance brake pads
-Stoptech drilled & slotted zinc plated rotors
-Stoptech Stainless Steel brake lines
Black Betty Grounding Kit G37 Oxygen Sensor
Special Thanks:
Black Betty Grounding Kit G37 Kit
• Derrick Nowell & Paco Duarte (APAC), Linthicum Heights MD
• Matthew Makarucha, SqueakyClean
• Ryan Nettleton (ExactArt Fabrications), Philadelphia PA
• Alex Mur (OnEighty Customs), Brooklyn NY
• Stan Chen (Toyo Tires), Cypress CA
• Dave Brown (F.A.S.T. – Family Automotive Service and Tuning), West Chester PA
• Manny Torres (Effex Graphix), Philadelphia PA
• Artem Lenchuk (DnD Custom Autobody), Hatboro PA
• Mike & Joe Creighton (Creighton’s Auto), Newtown PA
• Mark Dorman (Stillen), Costa Mesa, CA
• Adam Krawczuk (Race Consulting Agency), Glenview IL
• SoFresh Lifestyle & Apparel, Deer Park NY
• James Coyne & Vince Hafner III (RTTuning), Lansdale PA
• Carbon Signal Automotive, Dubai UAE
• Moe Nowicki & Chris Gulich (Smokin Moes), Penndel PA
• Dan Evans (Ghozt Lighting), Germantown MD
• Diode Dynamics, St. Louis MO
• Mark Chin & Kenny Chan (RavSpec), Deer Park NY
• Penn Auto Body, Newtown PA
• Gabe and Manny Torres (Intercity Concepts) Philadelphia PA
• Marshall Lum (Airrex Digital Air Suspension) Mililani Town, HI
• Brendan Ginty (GintyFab), Phoenixville PA
• Nick’s Blasting and Polishing, Staten Island NY
• Eric Yam (High Intake Performance), West Orange, NJ
• Concept Z Performance, Phoenix AZ
• Chris Whelan (Custom Engine Kits), Tampa FL
• Robbie Trengrove (Japan Auction Parts), Osaka Japan
• Dan Ruggiero (Infiniti of Willow Grove), Willow Grove PA
• Brian Fox (BASF), York PA