Middle-Aged Rockers Make Music--and Money
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On a rainy afternoon in Berkeley, Calif., inside a warehouse with metal doors, women's voices fuse in four-part harmony, raising the temperature by several degrees.
"I just wanna love ya, baby, baby..." The four members of the band Blame Sally croon into the microphones at the Opus Music Ventures studio, sounding, with their honey-smooth harmonies and soaring melodies, very much like a female version of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young.
The miracle of Blame Sally is that, in a music culture that worships youth, the band got a six-figure, three-record deal after the members had all reached their mid-40s. The "Sallys" range in age from 45 to 54 and are proud of their years.
"I tell people I got a record deal for my 50th birthday!" says guitarist/vocalist Jeri Jones, laughing. Rock critic Joel Selvin, who has covered the Bay Area music scene for more than 30 years, says he was floored by Blame Sally's ascent.
"They have one of the most powerful word-of-mouth success stories I've heard in recent years," Selvin says. "It's like they came out of nowhere and suddenly, everybody wanted to tell you about them. And then they turn out to be, by juvenile music business standards, practically senior citizens. Nobody had ever seen anything like that before."
Band members would argue that they were hardly an overnight success. They spent almost 10 years paying their dues by playing in bars and small clubs. Their trajectory was accelerated when San Francisco radio station KFOG discovered them, and then the XM network did, too. By the end of 2006, Blame Sally was playing more than 50 shows a year. "We've proven that it's an industry lie that you have to be young to succeed in the music world," says keyboardist/vocalist Monica Pascual. "There's something magic that happens when we play--people don't give a damn about our age. In fact, young girls who hear us love that we're their mothers' age!"
She laughs and her bandmates, gathered on the recording studio couches during a break, nod in agreement.
"When I was in bands in my 30s, I lied about my age and told people I was in my 20s," says guitarist/vocalist Renee Harcourt. "Now, I'm proud to be 54. We don't emphasize our age, but neither do we shy away from it. When you listen to our music, it's definitely written from a middle-aged perspective."
Percussionist Pam Delgado says the fact that they are mature women means the band experience has been enormously pleasurable--rather than fraught with dueling egos, as is often the case among young musicians.
"I think that age brings a nice resolve and inner peace! It makes us more accepting as people," she says. "We don't have a lot of ego around our work--this is a very democratic band. At the core, we have this level of trust. You heard Renee's vocals sounding great, but I can promise you that if they weren't, we'd be able to say that to each other." The others agree. "These days, we can say things with honesty and compassion, and no one's feelings get hurt," says Pascual.
Adds Harcourt: "We really just love each other. People see it when we play, and the connection makes us a better band."
That supportive connection played a critical role when Harcourt was diagnosed with breast cancer three years ago. Her illness at first stopped the band in its tracks--and then caused it to accelerate rapidly.
"Up until I got sick, we were keeping a leisurely pace--recording one track at a time at my tiny home studio," she says. "There was a lot of red wine and hot-tubbing. But after my treatment, I thought 'Why am I holding back?' So I told the others I wanted to throw myself into the band full-time. After that, things became very focused. We knew we needed a manager, a label, tour support--and we got those things."
In 2008, they signed the deal with Opus Music Ventures, which enabled all four women to quit their day jobs. Up until then, each had supplemented her income with jobs that ran the gamut from graphic art to landscaping to waiting tables.
"It was terrifying to quit my day job of 16 years," says Jones, who worked for an art gallery. "But we're doing the best music in our lives because we're able to do it full-time."
Their first Opus release was Night of 1000 Stars, produced by veteran producer Lee Townsend, who has also worked with Noe Venable and Loudon Wainwright III. Reviews were uniformly splendid; the San Diego Troubadour called Blame Sally "a folk-based U2."
What's in the future for the quartet? That's easy, they agree: music and more music. Until they die.
"Don't you think our generation is rewriting the aging rules about how long you can work and do the things you love?" asks Harcourt. "I wake up every morning thinking 'Oh my God, I'm so grateful. I get to come to a place like this and work with these fabulous women.' Why would I ever retire?"
