Vol. 14: The Kids Who Wanted To Be In Bands
Every high school seemed to have them.
The local bands everybody knew about.
Even if you weren’t in one yourself, you probably still knew the names.
You saw homemade logos scribbled onto binders and jean jackets. You heard rumours about warehouse parties and Battle of the Bands competitions.
Maybe you bought a demo tape from somebody in the cafeteria or watched an air band performance at a school dance.
Back Then, Music Still Felt Possible
Some of those bands were genuinely great.
Others probably sounded better in our memories than they actually did.
But that almost didn’t matter.
What mattered was that they loved music enough to want to become part of it.
Back then, music still felt possible.
Built on Imitation, Driven by Obsession
Most high school bands and music groups were built on imitation at first.
We studied our heroes and tried to build our own identities from the pieces. Some local bands clearly worshipped Metallica. Others chased funk, punk, grunge or hip hop.
My own group, Phreekz Uv Naychur, was heavily inspired by The Beastie Boys. Another group we were friends with called Home Grown mixed hip hop with rock energy in a way that felt completely natural at the time.
The funny thing is, the genres never seemed to matter as much as the obsession itself.
There was always mutual respect between bands because everybody was driven by the same love of music.
Music wasn’t content yet. It wasn’t branding. It wasn’t algorithms.
It felt more personal than that.
That probably explains why so many of the same kids playing in bands also signed up for air band competitions at school dances.
Looking back, it makes complete sense.
Music wasn’t just something we listened to. For a lot of kids, it became part of who we were.
The Warehouse Party Era
Eventually, those scenes expanded beyond school hallways, parking lots and cafeterias.
Warehouse parties became part of the culture.
Somebody always seemed to know somebody whose uncle owned a warehouse through their business, and suddenly this giant underground party would appear for one night only.
You’d pay ten bucks at the door and walk into a massive room full of kids from schools all over the city.
And always, there were bands.
Lineups filled with local acts playing on huge stages with sound systems that, at the time, felt as powerful as anything we’d ever heard outside professional concerts.
For young bands, those nights felt enormous.
I still remember sitting behind the stage drinking cheap beer with other bands waiting to perform, genuinely feeling like rock stars for a few hours.
Everybody Wanted In
One thing I remember most from that era was the camaraderie between bands from our own school.
We were always down to support each other or collaborate, regardless of what kind of music we were making.
I remember closing out the Spectrum Battle of the Bands show with a collaboration alongside a rock group from our school called Red Tide. At the time, it didn’t seem strange at all for hip hop kids and rock bands to share the same stage.
Everybody was just excited to be part of something.
I still remember looking out into the crowd at Spectrum and thinking that this was probably the closest any of us had ever felt to being part of the real music world.
And every once in awhile, those dreams actually became reality.
Green Day started as teenagers playing local California venues. Barenaked Ladies formed in Scarborough in the late ’80s before becoming one of Canada’s biggest bands.
Blink-182, No Doubt, Metallica and Beastie Boys all began with kids trying to turn obsession into something bigger.
I think that’s part of why those local scenes felt so exciting. Every band carrying gear into a school gym or warehouse party looked like they might become the next one.
The YTV Achievement Awards
In grade 9, we entered the 1990 YTV Achievement Awards in the Best Band / Musical Group category and ended up being recognized as runner-up to the winners: Barenaked Ladies.
At the time, my bandmate and I were away on vacation with my parents when my older brother’s friend, who also happened to be our DJ, left a voicemail at the house telling us the news.
We were invited to attend the ceremony in downtown Toronto, and I remember seriously considering it before deciding not to go.
Looking back, I honestly think we were probably disappointed we hadn’t won.
That feels very high school band to me.
I still remember receiving written feedback afterward.
One reviewer was Candi from Candi & The Backbeat, who had really positive things to say about our demos.
Another reviewer basically told us to slow things down a little, advice that probably applied to every young group trying to cram maximum energy into every song.
“Sonny’s the Man Now…”
There was one band from our school, I think they called themselves World’s Tallest Man or something like that, whose tape made the rounds among our friends.
To this day, one of their songs still randomly pops into my head.
I’m not even completely sure I’m saying the words right anymore, but it’s not abnormal for me to walk around the house singing:
“Sonny’s the man now… Sonny’s the man now…”
Their bassist, a guy by the name of David Zedner, absolutely killed it. At the time, he reminded me of Flea from Red Hot Chili Peppers.
What’s funny is that their tape somehow ended up in my dad’s car at one point, and I remember him genuinely liking it.
That always stuck with me because my dad wasn’t trying to impress anybody or pretend he understood the local scene.
He just thought the music was good.
Footloose and DJ Jus’ Rite
Another memory that stayed with me came from a show we played at a local nightclub called Footloose.
One of our group members had introduced us to a DJ named Mike Harland, better known as DJ Jus' Rite from the group Acid Test, who at the time were signed to Sire/Warner.
Mike had already achieved the kind of music industry success most young groups dreamed about, but you never would’ve known it talking to him.
He was completely down to earth.
He performed that show with us alongside his friend Andrew, an MC who opened the night and absolutely crushed it.
Mike sadly passed away in 2012.
Years later, when the surviving members reunited to record new music, they named their comeback EP Jus’ Rite as a tribute to him and the impact he had on the group.
The Songs Never Fully Disappear
A year or so ago, I ran into David Zedner at the gym.
Within minutes, I found myself bringing up “Sonny’s the man now…” from a local demo tape I hadn’t heard in over three decades.
Thirty-five years later, it was still sitting somewhere in my brain.
And honestly, I don’t even know how that made David feel hearing me bring it up all these years later.
But I do know that sixteen-year-old me would’ve been thrilled to know that something created by local kids from our school would still be remembered decades later by somebody who was there.
I think people underestimate what those local music scenes meant to kids back then.
Even when the bands disappeared, the songs didn’t always disappear with them.
Why MusiCounts Matters
Maybe that’s why organizations like MusiCounts matter so much.
Somewhere right now, there’s another kid carrying a guitar case through a high school hallway.
Another group recording rough demos in a basement.
Another local band convincing themselves they might actually make it.
Music still feels possible for a lot of young people because programs like MusiCounts continue helping schools provide access to instruments and music education.
And if this article proves anything, it’s that those experiences can stay with people for the rest of their lives.
Listen Along
Listen along: The Kids Who Wanted to Be in Bands playlist