Behind the Mask - A Sequel (of Sorts) to A Star Is Born

Our Band Gets A Name, Of Sorts...

Our Band Gets A Name

We decided to play our first gig a few months later, after the full album had been released. It didn't hit number one, but came close, enough to make us the scheduled headliners at a few smaller venues. Our first show was at the Les Schwab Amphitheater outside of Bend, Oregon. Phil figured it was best to avoid playing too close to our own backyard, so Bend seemed a safe distance away.

I've never felt such awful butterflies as I did on the five hour drive to the show. We left school right at the bell, and drove to the CVS pickup lot. The Suburban was waiting patiently. Inside was Hektor, who explained our "disguise" for the show. He opened a bag from an outdoor store with several full-faced ski masks inside. "What the hell," Brian interjected, as the rest of us nodded in frustration. "Just go with it," Hektor said calmly. Any other form of disguise only invites scrutiny of exposed features; there is no identifying feature that can be ascertained from a ski mask, he explained.

The ride seemingly took forever. Someone had the bright idea to limit the access road to two lanes, since the neighbors had never really bought on to a music venue in their backyard. We crept along, all the while looking nervously at each other. Maybe we should have tried a smaller gig first.

The first show got off to a rough start. I dropped the mike, Brian missed a few notes, and we skipped a song. But after the first set, my stiffness gave way to the energy from the crowd. Somehow, I fed off their energy, and created more. We got into a virtuous cycle. I came into the show with serious doubts that Phil and Virgin knew what they were doing by taking a chance on our music. Hearing five thousand fans chant our anthems made me realize we had done something special.

The show's end was uneventful. We kept our masks on until we got to the Suburban and the doors were locked. A few other cars tailed us to keep others away, and by the time we were back in Issaquah there was no sign of anyone behind us. I crawled into bed just as the sun was coming up, exhausted, sweaty, but unable to sleep because of the adrenaline rush.

The next day, I woke up to discover that our band now had a name. "Anonymous" must have been too boring, because some entertainment blogger who attended the show had dubbed us "The Black Mask Band" instead, and the name stuck. I didn't really care for it much, but within a few weeks, even iTunes had changed our name without really asking us.