Detroit's own Ty Stone gives us another update on his adventures out on the left coast. Ty writes of the difficulty in making the decision that would find him alone with his guitar in LA and the events that eventually led to the first offer of a record deal. " I don't know if I'll take it or not. Who knows? I might come home next month and get 2 Days Straight back together. Clearly, my journey is definitely just beginning. . . " Click "Read More" for Ty's continuing saga.
How I finally got offered a decent fucking record deal
by Ty Stone
Matt Delaney and I started making records in 1990 when we were 14 years old. We bought a Yamaha 4 track, and borrowed Josh Swain's Kawai synthesizer and Karaoke mic. Next thing you know, booya, a record is made. Since then Matt and I did 2 other rap albums, 2 Days Straight cut the Chrome Album in Nashville, I cut the Velvet Elvis record, and most recently I cut this Heart of Stone. That's six albums in twelve years (not to mention all of the bullshit that never made the cut like The Blues Child, and the folk years). Add in the fact that I also had to deal with puberty, high school, college, sex, drugs, and rock and roll over that same period, and I'd say that six albums isn't too bad. In all that time I have never been offered a legitimate record deal. Until now.
You see moving out to LA was a bitch because I had to leave 2 Days Straight, which was really becoming a well-oiled rock & roll machine. It's kind of like jumping out of a perfectly good airplane. Who does that, right? We were slowly working on some new material, and our gigs were going really well. As far as local success, we were pretty much on top of things. But I picked up my shit one day and left. Matt Delaney and I have been making music for 12 years, and I just took off. It was a hard step to take.
Now, leaving may sound selfish, but the reality of the situation is that that band would have gone nowhere without a million dollar record deal. I said to them, "Look, If someone calls today and says, 'I can put you on the Warped tour for a couple of months. There's really no pay, but youíll get a chance to play some huge shows, and spread your music around.' Are you guys down? Are you guys willing to drop everything and go?'" Their answer was no. They have great jobs and girlfriends and responsibilities that I did not have. Now if Sony called and dropped a half-million dollars in our lap, they would have quit their jobs in a second and it would have been on, but that only happens in Hollywood (please excuse the irony there). So I had to take a chance, cut my losses, and give LA a shot while the opportunity presented itself.
I must digress for a moment as I read the FACE article today on Michiganbands.com. That's some funny shit. It sounds really familiar. That was a good band, but breaking up is hard to do folks. When you're working on different records, and performing songs without your singer, that's called "broken-up." Just because she came to a show don't mean youí're still a band. That's what happened with 2 Dizzle. I came out to LA for a month, then two, then who knows how long, and although we tried to stay together as hard as we could, we broke up anyway. Last month, Vigg said to me, "There is no band right now, Stone!" And he was right. We're not mad or anything. We're mostly sad. But yo, if youíre not working together, there is no band. It's never too late to go home Courtney.
Anyway, I come to LA, and itís just me and a guitar out here. That can be difficult because there's a lot of pressure being sandwiched between two full bands when it's just you and your guts. But it's also challenging and inspiring. It forces you to perform like a legend every time you hit the stage. It forces you to compensate for a bass, and a lead guitar, and drums with attitude and presence. Failure to produce in that realm can be devastating, but success there is so sweet. If you can win a crowd with an acoustic guitar and a rock song, then you can rock the Palace with a decent band. That's just the way it is.
So I met this girl name Tania Zeppo in a bar one night. I can't recall the details of how we got to know each other, but her friends knew my friends, and blah blah blah. Anyway, she was cutting an album in Long Beach, and asked me to come down and cut some guitar tracks for her in the studio. Well, I was dying to get into a studio, plus Tania's hot, so I piled in my ride and headed to the LBC to drop some rock tunes. It was a pretty standard afternoon in the studio. I had a lot of fun. Little did I know at the time that the owner of this studio, Albert Dominguez, had an independent record label and was looking for talent. How lucky?
Later on that week, Cleo Antonelli, a promoter here in LA, and I came up with the idea of Acoustic Idol. We created a head-to-head competition for acoustic artists. (Think 8 Mile without all of the white trash.) Anyway, we needed a prize, and I thought of Albert. So I put Cleo and Albert in touch, and voila, The Acoustic Idol wins a free month of studio time.
I hear the contest was great. I had a show that night, but Cleo let me drop in and play a quick song to kick off the night and scare all of the would-be-Jewels. (Even though I'm not in a rock band any more, the little folksters crack me up. I love to fuck with them a little bit whenever I get the chance.) Well, Albert really appreciated the business that I sent his way, so as a gesture of good will, he decided to come and see a show of mine. In the meantime, he started talking to Tania about signing on with his label, and she suggested that he check me out. Now there's the rub.
If Tania doesn't mention that she thinks I'm worth seeing, then nothing ever happens. But since she did, Albert gets interested in me. (That's what happens in a music scene ruled by positivity, not jealousy.) Now as a good networking specialist should do, I keep in touch with Albert because you never know when youíre going to need some studio time. So the next time I talk to Albert, he invites me down to the studio to talk about his label, which I do almost immediately. After a few hours of talking about what an independent label should do, and what an artist needs to succeed, we decide that Albert has to come out to a Ty Stone show. This is the move that makes or breaks me. Itís put up or shut up because money talks, and bullshit walks on the stage, people. As an added stress factor, I know that The Chris Scott Band is playing before me, and there's a lot of pressure to follow such a great act. I must mention that I personally had Chris added to my bill because I felt up to the challenge.
I used to do the same thing for 2 Days Straight. Whenever we'd have a really important or exciting gig, I'd book us with The Kingsnakes, or The Muggs, or Mindcandy. Now this was before the Kingsnakes were "As Detroit As It Gets" and before the Muggs had to take a break (God Bless Tony), and Mindcandy wasnít cutting albums with Attack Records yet either, but those bands were fucking awesome. Trying to follow the Muggs or the Kingsnakes was like trying to follow Led Zeppelin sometimes. 2 Dizzle never played better shows than when we played with those guys. It was like we turned into the fucking Rolling Stones. The friendly competition between bands like us pushed each of us to be our best. That's why Mindcandy rocks so hard now. That competition brings out the balls, fellas. (Thatís a little tip from the Stone. Don't be a pussy! Play with bands that challenge you. Maybe youíll grow a little bit).
So I had to follow Chris Scott and his band (which includes Jimmy Paxton, drummer for Alanis Morrisette). They were totally awesome. I have never heard Chris sound so great. Heís like Jeff Buckley meets Robert Plant. And when he cleared the stage to a huge round of applause, I knew I had some work to do.
I waited to hear my name, "Please welcome Detroit's Own Ty Stone!" As the unfamiliar crowd cheered hesitantly, I walked onto the stage, plugged in my guitar and just gave it everything I had in my heart for 45 minutes. When I got called back for a surprising encore I was totally covered in sweat, and ready to fall over and die, but the crowd was so excited that they were feeding me raw energy. I had no control. I just went off.
At the end of my encore I threw peace in the air, and I walked back into the green room to greet Chris Mason, who was going to be closing the night. As we stood there silently, the roar of the crowd got louder and louder. They started pounding on the walls and the tables, and stomping on the floor. And then it started. "Ty Stone! Ty Stone! Ty Stone! Ty Stone!" All of a sudden, 80 people turned into 500. Molly Malone's turned into The Majestic Theatre. And as I walked back out for a second encore, the crowd was totally on it's feet and the atmosphere was electric. I finished with the song "Heroine", and walked backstage feeling like the Champion of the World. And there stood Albert Dominguez.
I was so wrapped up in the show that I had forgotten that he was even there. But karma had it that this was the night that he caught a Ty Stone show; a show that I will never forget.
So Albert offered to sign me to his label. Over the next few weeks we'll hash out all of the details and see if we can work out a great contract. He's all about touring, and so am I. Can you imagine? I don't know if I'll take it or not. Who knows? I might come home next month and get 2 Days Straight back together. Clearly, my journey is definitely just beginning. But the point is that I have the opportunity to sign a record deal. Why? I think it's a mixture of hard work, luck, karma, and practice, practice, practice. Play as much as you can. Network with people. Support the scene and other musicians instead of backstabbing and talking shit. It's all about helping each other out. Do the right thing, and the thing will do you right. You can quote me on that one. J Happy Holidays Detroit!
Your native son,
-Ty Stone