15 Days on the road with the By All Means Necessary

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Written By: Drew Madden
Photo Credit: Aaron Fallon

BAMN or By All Means Necessary is one of the new breed of Indie artists coming out of the LA Anti -Music scene, and I struck out on the road with them going from LA to Denver. Playing in front of packed houses, half empty clubs and everything in between, I got to witness firsthand what it takes to make it in a music scene falling apart at the hands of an industry that is a shell of its former self, the trials and tribulations of trying to work a dream into a day job , and what happens when a band and tour support are stuffed into a tin can called the Free Willy Wonka for months on end smelling like sweat, urine, beer, and Axe body spray.

This will not be the story of the surprise influence of REO Speed wagon, or a tale that tells of inner torment leading to eventual rehab like every True Hollywood story of every band created twenty years ago. This is the story of what four talented musicians have done to create a band with new voice and a stage show that will move you. This is the story of how By All Means Necessary makes it on the road and how four people from all across the country came to LA with a strongest most relevant sound that the city of angels has seen in years.

This winter rocked BAMN. After five years as front man. Matt was walking away. Some say it was the grind of the road, others say it was a new baby at home, and your author predicted that BAMN was done, but I was wrong about that, about everything. Zo, Chris, and Greg, the remaining members of BAMN, were getting some much needed R&R at The Playboy Mansion when they saw a gorgeous young singer opening for Skid Row’s Sebastian Bach. Desiree blew them away.

BAMN asked her to try out for the band, gave her a few songs to learn, and set a date for the audition. On that fateful day, bandaged and broken, she strode into BAMN’s LA studio ready to rock. After surviving a near fatal car accident, Desiree was intent on not letting anything get in between her dreams of rock stardom and her future band. Desiree sung through the pain, and blew them away once again. Desiree is more than just a great singer. She is an accomplished songwriter. The merge of her sound with BAMN’s created something greater than the whole of its parts. The new BAMN was ready to hit the road.

BAMN’s Sleep When you’re Dead tour starts at ten am. That’s the crack of dawn in rocker world. My instructions were clear. I was given a 19” x 13” x 11” space for storage, a really really small bunk, a strict warning that all personal items were to be out of common areas when awake, and a long list of necessary items that reminded me a little of summer camp. The most disturbing thing on that list was baby wipes preferably cucumber melon scented. Lastly I was given a stern warning that there was one offense for which there was no forgiveness…crapping on the bus.
First let me tell you a little bit about The Free Willy Wonka.

This 1994 Ford Fourwinds thirty foot RV sleeps seven, five of them comfortably. It was originally the tour vehicle for the US Bombs. While it is infinitely superior to a fourteen passenger van, it is roughly the equivalent of you and your five friends working from home in your 160 square foot one bedroom apartment, oh and there’s no shower. Where the shower used to be is my luxurious two square foot storage area. The smell is really something special to be experienced. Remember you and your five friends have no shower, a lot of beer, a really small budget, the AC only works when they use an extension cord to connect the power directly, and even the finest urinary marksmen have trouble hitting the toilet of a carpeted bathroom travelling 65 miles an hour and oh- you're half drunk on Jack Daniels.

Before tour I’m picturing one guy writing songs in the corner, beers all around, maybe a drunk girl wondering what the hell she was going to tell her mother when she gets dropped off in the next city, and after a great show it would all end in a giant pool party at a lesbian’s house with a slip and slide loaded with lube- but it didn’t happen that way, at least not all at once.
So we jump on the road, and no one grabs a beer. What the hell kind of tour was this going to be? First things first, Greg, the drummer, is known by another name…Chef Boy RV. He immediately is reorganizing cabinets and planning the week’s meals. Zo, the bass player, is driving. The merch girl is peeling stickers from old promo hand outs and putting new ones on. Chris and Desiree are checking on promoters, booking, and most of all doing last minute promotions. It turns out that using social networking sites like MySpace is how this band makes it work. This will take a little explaining.

BAMN is unsigned. They don’t use the term Indie in the stylistic sense. They have pulled themselves up by their own bootstraps utilizing the tools found on the internet to create their own network. Most bands get started using financing from an indie label. BAMN is self financed. No corporation owns their music. BAMN pays for their RV, finances tour after tour, and records at venues like the Legendary Sunset Sound where the likes of Metallica and Prince record. They pay for this with cd’s, t-shirts, ringtones, and six bucks you paid at the door.

BAMN did it all themselves. They have over forty thousand MySpace fans. To give you an idea of what that equates to in terms of popularity you need to understand that My Morning Jacket and The Bravery have seventy five thousand fans. Me First and The Gimme Gimmes have sixty thousand.

So you see a lot of things on the road, and my job is to pick what would interest you most. So did I witness a remorseful drunk girl who hopped on the bus in one city get off it in another city wondering aloud “What am I going to tell my mother?” Yes, I did. Did I watch the creative process as they fleshed out songs from little ideas? Yes I did. Did I go to a pool party at a lesbian’s house at two AM where they set up a slip and slide that was wet down with lube instead of water? Yes I did, but by far my favorite story came on the night of Greg’s birthday.
Birthdays on the road are funny things. The band gets off stage, and usually beelines for the bar. The first round of shots came from a fan, and it was just Greg and the fan. By the fifth round it’s over ten people. Round seven came in about 10 min, and that’s when the bartender went to slow Greg down. Greg replied. “Are you my mother or my fuckin bartender? Give me the goddamn shot!”

The next hour or two are a little hazy, but I remember we were back on the bus, a quickly receding bottle of Buffalo Trace in hand, when someone decided we needed to go swimming. How we ended up at the elementary school pool I think I’ll never know. There was a ten foot high fence with spikes bent outward to keep you from climbing over, that I’m sure was responsible for half of the unidentified drunken injuries the next day, but not the worst one. Greg climbed the life guard tower to make his own high jump. Here I need to tell you that it was not set in cement, but rather a free standing structure.

Greg claims the third rung broke when the tower went over. Everyone else thinks the only thing that broke was his head on the cement. I think it was Zo who first noticed the bloody trail in the water. Chris anointed himself drunken doctor, and assessed the situation as minor. The next day the vomit and the blood soaked pillow told the story Greg couldn’t remember, but we had a show to get to so it was another day before Greg got his head properly treated.

The road is a party, but it’s a lot smellier and a lot more work than I thought. Those nights of partying are well earned. It takes a lot to make it doing it on your own, and that is precisely what By All Means Necessary is doing. Now I know what you’re thinking…what the hell was with those cucumber melon baby wipes?

Remember that shower that was converted into storage? It turns out that the biggest challenge on the road is finding a place to shower. So a four day stretch without a shower is common. The baby wipes are your shower, and the bus bathroom is far from the ideal locale. Your perfect choice is a local corporate chain coffee shop. You can lock the door, and they usually have a hook to hang your clothes. So one day I’m in Salt Lake City, and I am ripe. I need a real shower, but there is no time. I check the venue, but it reminds me of a scene out of "Trainspotting." I quickly assess the situation, and the only public restroom I can find is in a Sears dept store- not at all ideal.

I enter the restroom disappointed to find no locks and no hot water. By this time my shame was a thing of the past. So I’m working through my clean routine standing at the bank of sinks, and at this point am naked except for a pair of flip flops and a smile when in walks a Mormon Nordic Cowboy. He takes one look at me and heads for a stall. As you can imagine he left quite quickly, and without washing his hands. I’m quite sure the cowboy went to the bar that night to tell his friends of the bizarre acts of gay perversion he witnessed at the Sears that day.

Being on the road was a lot of fun but the best part was going out every night and seeing some incredible music. BAMN’s sound is current and relevant today. They are a breath of fresh air. In a music scene cannibalizing itself for safe investment, they dare to be unique and it pays off in spades. Go see By All Means Necessary and support real indie music, and if you like it…please let them shower at your house. ..They smell bad.