Garage band puts the ‘classic'
in ‘classic rock'
The story goes that members of the band
were asked to show their IDs before
entering a Teays Valley club where they
were to play.
Monty Vickers couldn't find his drivers
license, so he flashed his AARP
membership card instead. They let him in.
This is not your teenager's garage band.
Most of the members of Lost Cause
started playing music in their teens, but
then went on to college and real jobs and
family obligations.
Call this their midlife crisis if you want.
They call it fun.
Now in their 40s and 50s, the band
members include two optometrists, a
health care consultant, a hairdresser, a
schoolteacher and a researcher for the
state.
They formed about six years ago and do a
modest 20 gigs a year, often for benefit
events such as Saturday's fundraiser at
the Embassy Suites for the Cystic Fibrosis
Foundation.
And hey, they get paid.
"We cash those checks like that," jokes
bass player Chuck Peterson, snapping his
fingers.
"You get what you pay for, so we don't play
for free," added B.J. Nibert, the
keyboardist.
The credit -- or blame -- for this band
probably goes to Whitney Hess, its
saxophonist and guitarist. The 46-year-old
health care consultant has played in
various bands for years. He played tennis
with Vickers, 54, a guitarist. Vickers and
Peterson, 44, who works for the state
Development Office, had played in the
same band when Peterson was in high
school.
The band was rounded out with David
Mayse, a 51-year-old hairdresser who
plays drums, and Whitney Hess's wife, Vicki, a schoolteacher
who is
their lead vocalist and whose age is no one's business. She's
always
wanted to be in a band.
"I was a vocal performance major my first two years in college
until I
finally got tired of my mother saying, ‘You'll never make
a living at that'
and switched to education. And guess what? I'm still not making
a
living," she cracked.
Nibert, who knows Vickers because they're both optometrists,
was
invited later -- and that's a funny story in itself.
He got a call on a Wednesday from Vickers.
"He said, ‘We've got this band and we have a gig Saturday
and our
keyboard player quit and I told them you could play keyboard,"
Nibert
recalled.
"I hadn't played in 25 years -- I didn't even have equipment."
But he showed up, used a borrowed keyboard and squeaked through
the gig by sneaking peaks at Peterson's note cards (Peterson
is
famous for his note cards, which fortunately were written in
big letters
because Peterson is presbyopic, optometrist talk for far-sighted.
"They didn't ask me to come back, but they didn't tell me not
to come
back, either," Nibert said. So he's been in ever since.
The song list is a mix of songs they all grew up with, ranging
from
Bonnie Raitt to Billy Idol, Johnny Cash, Journey, Devo, Roy
Orbison
and Donna Summer.
"Everyone gets a protected song," Whitney Hess said. "Chuck's
is
‘Ring of Fire' (Johnny Cash)."
Adds Peterson, "We vote and then Vicki says no."
All but Peterson sing. He contends it's because it's difficult
to play
bass and sing at the same time. They say it's because if given
a
microphone, he says inappropriate things. Nibert's claim to
vocal fame
is his "break-out" on the B-52s "Love Shack," where he provides
the
spoken word narration.
Band members say they'll try most anything -- Whitney Hess is
known
for his catalogue memory of song lyrics -- and if it sounds
good, they'll
perform it.
They try to play to their strengths -- Vicki Hess's powerful
voice -- and
describe their sound as "fun rock," the kind of stuff people
like to listen
to, sing along to and dance to.
"Someone asked us once for an Eminem song and I said, ‘Have
you
seen the men behind me?' " Vicki Hess recalled.
Nibert and Vickers have grown children who are "pretty cool"
about
their fathers' hobbies. Mayse said his 19-year-old son is "indifferent."
The Hesses' children, 4, and 7, are too young to be embarrassed.
Peterson's newborn son is oblivious.
Nibert said his wife championed the band early on by saying,
"They're
the highest paid band in the Kanawha Valley."
"Of course, what she was referring to was our day jobs."
Peterson said his wife heard the band when the two were still
dating.
"She was amazed we didn't suck."
The band has passed the toughest test of all -- playing before
students at Andrew Jackson Middle School, where Vicki Hess is
a
seventh-grade teacher.
"I was nervous and I'm usually not nervous," she said.
"I thought, ‘I'm either going to be the coolest thing
ever or I'm going to
melt into a puddle.' "
"I was cool, for about an hour," she said.
During their twice-a-month practices, usually at the Hesses'
Putnam
County home (Vicki says their driveway is so long the neighbors
won't
venture up to complain about the noise), they are honest with
each
other, but not mean.
Said Whitney Hess, "I've played in some bands where there's
an
expectation that things have to be perfect."
"We don't take ourselves too seriously," Vicki said.
Their name perhaps reflects that best. Originally called Hit
and Miss,
they batted about better names and Vickers recalls someone saying,
"Oh, it's a lost cause -- we'll never think of something."
They sometimes like to bill themselves as The Cause, as when
performing at a benefit concert. Saturday's gig for the Cystic
Fibrosis
Foundation is important to them.
"This is a pretty big deal," said Nibert. "It's the fifth year
they have
asked us to come back."
The fundraiser starts at 6 p.m. at Embassy Suites. The band
plays at
8 p.m. Tickets are $100 and include dinner. The evening also
includes
a silent auction. Tickets must be reserved by 5 p.m. Friday.
Call the
Cystic Fibrosis Foundation at (800) 526-8126.
Contact writer Monica Orosz at monica@dailymail.com or 348-4830.