February 5, 2012
‘Dying to Make It:’ The makings of a rock opera
By Tanner Kent
Free Press Features Editor
The date is Feb. 17, 2012.
The Friday crowd is filling the Southern Theater to capacity, its antiquated, almost Gothic atmosphere enveloping a stage that co-writer and St. Peter native Robb Schwartz said is perfectly paired to the dark subject matter of the opera about to unfold.
The music, choreography and video sets that complement the two-hour musical performance are long since completed. Schwartz and his cast of two longtime friends from St. Peter High School and 10 other musicians have rehearsed countless times ‹ maybe too many times. Weeks before the show, Schwartz admitted that the nearly 30 months spent writing, composing and practicing the opera had led to a certain stagnation.
But there can be no stagnation tonight.
This is, after all, the debut of “Dying to Make It,” a two-hour, 13-musician, 24-song rock opera that has tested the creative and musical limits of its creators.
“The biggest anxiety is waiting for gameday,” Schwartz said in anticipation of this night. “When I’m last on a bill, I hate that. I just want to play.”
Time to rock
“Dying to Make It” is the story of Paul (played by Schwartz), an ambitious rock ‘n’ roller who is on the cusp of greatness when he is killed in a motorcycle crash. He descends into a kind of purgatory where agents of good and evil fight for lost souls.
Schwartz first conceived the idea several years ago, but it took hold when he was laid off from a 20-year bank job and found himself with time. Lots of time.
“I taught myself the piano,” Schwartz said. “I sat at home and wrote songs. I had a lot of spare time on my hands.”
Conceiving a rock opera and executing one, however, are two different tasks. Schwartz needed musicians willing to dedicate not months, but years, to learning and shaping and revising and perfecting the material. He needed musicians with vision to match his own and he needed lots of them.
A little help from his friends
Ted Martin and Stu Walcott were the first people Schwartz talked to about his idea.
They were longtime friends and fellow graduates of St. Peter High School. They had played together for the previous decade, their band, mini-bike, gaining a widespread following and releasing seven albums.
When Schwartz approached them about the rock opera, he was in the midst of a six-month hiatus from the group — a mutual decision that allowed Walcott and Martin to pursue a more technically demanding brand of music.
Martin remembers listening to Schwartz and having a rather dubious reaction.
“Honestly, I wasn’t sure right away that it was a great idea,” he said. “I told him, ‘You’re crazy.’ … But eventually I said, ‘You’re crazy. Why not?’”
Going way back
The trio has a long history of inspiring each other musically.
In junior high, Schwartz was in awe of Martin — who was the first person he knew with an electric guitar — and Walcott, who taught himself to play Rush tunes on his drumset. They were just teenagers when they started jamming together, even booking a gig for their high school graduation.
In college at St. Thomas, Martin bought Schwartz a bass guitar and they formed their first band. During the summer, they’d return to St. Peter to play with the local musicians. One jam session even got recorded and treated to some airplay at the Macalester College radio station.
“It was all stream-of-consciousness type stuff,” Martin said. “Even now, it doesn’t sound terrible.”
Following college, Martin moved to Boston to follow his eventual wife — a place where he played with “serious musicians” who “lit a fire in me to get better.” His roommate’s boyfriend played in the Mighty Mighty Bosstones and another friend married a guitarist from The Pixies.
But all the while, Martin was still writing music and sending it Schwartz, anticipating the day when they would play together again. Their future together was cemented when Schwartz sent Martin $100 with instructions to buy a bass amp and haul it back to Minnesota.
“I credit my friend Ted (Martin) for seeing something in me that I didn’t ever see,” Schwartz said.
Time to play
Once Martin and Walcott were in the fold, Schwartz sought other collaborators: John Hile, longtime director of the “Jesus Christ Superstar” production at First Avenue, and a host of others.
For almost three years, the group met every Wednesday night in Hile’s Minneapolis basement to rehearse. The project became a complex collaboration with each investing a part of themselves in the final product.
“There is a lot of who I am in this thing, and a lot of the other artists, too,” Martin said. “There are always arguments in that kind of process, but Robb (Schwartz) was open. … He believed he could do it and that we could do it, too.”
The project was bolstered by a nearly $4,000 fundraising campaign coordinated through Kickstarter, an organization devoted to funding art projects through public donations. Schwartz said that generosity propelled the project forward, even when creative challenges and long odds threatened its completion.
“We couldn’t have done this the way we wanted without (the Kickstarter campaign),” Schwartz said.
And now, after 30 years of friendship and 30 months of practice, all that’s left is to perform. “I want it to be gameday,” Schwartz said.
February 5, 2012
‘Dying to Make It:’ The makings of a rock opera
By Tanner Kent
Free Press Features Editor
The date is Feb. 17, 2012.
The Friday crowd is filling the Southern Theater to capacity, its antiquated, almost Gothic atmosphere enveloping a stage that co-writer and St. Peter native Robb Schwartz said is perfectly paired to the dark subject matter of the opera about to unfold.
The music, choreography and video sets that complement the two-hour musical performance are long since completed. Schwartz and his cast of two longtime friends from St. Peter High School and 10 other musicians have rehearsed countless times ‹ maybe too many times. Weeks before the show, Schwartz admitted that the nearly 30 months spent writing, composing and practicing the opera had led to a certain stagnation.
But there can be no stagnation tonight.
This is, after all, the debut of “Dying to Make It,” a two-hour, 13-musician, 24-song rock opera that has tested the creative and musical limits of its creators.
“The biggest anxiety is waiting for gameday,” Schwartz said in anticipation of this night. “When I’m last on a bill, I hate that. I just want to play.”
Time to rock
“Dying to Make It” is the story of Paul (played by Schwartz), an ambitious rock ‘n’ roller who is on the cusp of greatness when he is killed in a motorcycle crash. He descends into a kind of purgatory where agents of good and evil fight for lost souls.
Schwartz first conceived the idea several years ago, but it took hold when he was laid off from a 20-year bank job and found himself with time. Lots of time.
“I taught myself the piano,” Schwartz said. “I sat at home and wrote songs. I had a lot of spare time on my hands.”
Conceiving a rock opera and executing one, however, are two different tasks. Schwartz needed musicians willing to dedicate not months, but years, to learning and shaping and revising and perfecting the material. He needed musicians with vision to match his own and he needed lots of them.
A little help from his friends
Ted Martin and Stu Walcott were the first people Schwartz talked to about his idea.
They were longtime friends and fellow graduates of St. Peter High School. They had played together for the previous decade, their band, mini-bike, gaining a widespread following and releasing seven albums.
When Schwartz approached them about the rock opera, he was in the midst of a six-month hiatus from the group — a mutual decision that allowed Walcott and Martin to pursue a more technically demanding brand of music.
Martin remembers listening to Schwartz and having a rather dubious reaction.
“Honestly, I wasn’t sure right away that it was a great idea,” he said. “I told him, ‘You’re crazy.’ … But eventually I said, ‘You’re crazy. Why not?’”
Going way back
The trio has a long history of inspiring each other musically.
In junior high, Schwartz was in awe of Martin — who was the first person he knew with an electric guitar — and Walcott, who taught himself to play Rush tunes on his drumset. They were just teenagers when they started jamming together, even booking a gig for their high school graduation.
In college at St. Thomas, Martin bought Schwartz a bass guitar and they formed their first band. During the summer, they’d return to St. Peter to play with the local musicians. One jam session even got recorded and treated to some airplay at the Macalester College radio station.
“It was all stream-of-consciousness type stuff,” Martin said. “Even now, it doesn’t sound terrible.”
Following college, Martin moved to Boston to follow his eventual wife — a place where he played with “serious musicians” who “lit a fire in me to get better.” His roommate’s boyfriend played in the Mighty Mighty Bosstones and another friend married a guitarist from The Pixies.
But all the while, Martin was still writing music and sending it Schwartz, anticipating the day when they would play together again. Their future together was cemented when Schwartz sent Martin $100 with instructions to buy a bass amp and haul it back to Minnesota.
“I credit my friend Ted (Martin) for seeing something in me that I didn’t ever see,” Schwartz said.
Time to play
Once Martin and Walcott were in the fold, Schwartz sought other collaborators: John Hile, longtime director of the “Jesus Christ Superstar” production at First Avenue, and a host of others.
For almost three years, the group met every Wednesday night in Hile’s Minneapolis basement to rehearse. The project became a complex collaboration with each investing a part of themselves in the final product.
“There is a lot of who I am in this thing, and a lot of the other artists, too,” Martin said. “There are always arguments in that kind of process, but Robb (Schwartz) was open. … He believed he could do it and that we could do it, too.”
The project was bolstered by a nearly $4,000 fundraising campaign coordinated through Kickstarter, an organization devoted to funding art projects through public donations. Schwartz said that generosity propelled the project forward, even when creative challenges and long odds threatened its completion.
“We couldn’t have done this the way we wanted without (the Kickstarter campaign),” Schwartz said.
And now, after 30 years of friendship and 30 months of practice, all that’s left is to perform. “I want it to be gameday,” Schwartz said.
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