Wanna Be a Rock Star? Better Get a Job

The ‘60s and ‘70s were the era of big, unadulterated rock ‘n ‘ roll dreams. Garage bands flourished, and dopey yet shameless air-guitar playing was a national pastime.

Young people, mostly guys, believed they could learn three chords and strum their way into a music career. They would quit jobs or decline their parents’ invitations to attend college and strike out on their own, firm in the conviction that fame, fortune and a 6-foot, 110-pound supermodel were a trip to L.A. away.

That was then, this is now. In the intervening years we have been reading Vanity Fair, watching “Entertainment Tonight” and surfing the Net, and we are too wise to have naive, unself-conscious rock ‘n’ roll fantasies.

We know that fame can be degrading, and that money doesn’t buy happiness, only designer footwear. And we have seen how the mighty can topple, often into the Betty Ford Center.

More than anything, we know the competition is ferocious for jobs like rock star. And those gigs never come with tenure--rock ‘n’ roll fame can be as fleeting as a guitar riff. Frankly, there is more security in a Lotto ticket.

So any closet air guitarist with sense tempers his ‘60s-style rock dreams with some ‘90s job security and benefits.

Say goodbye to the days of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll and hello to rock, stock ‘n’ 401Ks.

“Being a starving artist is looked down upon, not admired, anymore. And it’s kind of sad,” said Tori Solomon, one-quarter of the group Painted iD, who will be playing Friday at the Victoria Pub in Ventura.

Solomon, who by day works as an account executive in the Commercial Industrial Division of Old Republic Title in Camarillo, has been playing guitar and writing songs since she was 13.

“But I was always on a career path,” said Solomon, now in her late 20s. “I guess I was too realistic to be any other way. After college, a friend of mine, who was in the record business, heard me playing at home one night and encouraged me to go to an open mike night. And though I wasn’t very good at first, I was inspired.”

She formed a duo with childhood friend Peter Debaets (guitar), and later Barry Schapira (drums) and Rico Belled (bass) signed on. The group, which has been together five years, just released its second CD, “The Painted iD,” and is building a steady following around Ventura County. But that doesn’t mean Solomon plans to give up her day job.

“The record industry wants bands coming to them already successful, already selling records. And then if some executive doesn’t like you or finds you uncooperative, they will just fire you,” Solomon said. “It isn’t about making good music anymore, even if you are original. And that has been tough for us because we are not big schmoozers.”

At least a couple of members of the Cajun-zydeco band Acadiana are such good schmoozers they attract sizable crowds to their gigs at Cafe Voltaire in Ventura on the first Sunday of each month. And they probably have sold some of them homes.

Terry Tintorri and Pat Patterson--the accordion and rub board players of Acadiana--own Patterson and Tintorri Realty at Channel Islands Harbor.

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“When we started the band, it was three real estate agents. That was six years ago,” said Tintorri, the 55-year-old band leader. “Pat and I still have the company, and that is how we make a living. In Louisiana, where Cajun-zydeco comes from, even the stars of that music never give up their day jobs. This is the tradition. It is a point of pride, as well as a reflection of the reality of life.”

Fame and money came first to members of Nerf Herder, a Santa Barbara-based band that played last Friday at the Yucatan Cantina in Thousand Oaks. It was the day jobs that followed.

“We were sort of a joking-around band and quite suddenly we had a hit record and a major record deal,” said Perry Gripp, singer, songwriter, guitarist and chief Nerf Herder. “It wasn’t until recently that members had to get jobs again.”

Thus, Gripp is back working at the family business, the Santa Barbara Orchid Estate on Patterson Avenue in Goleta. But the dream has not died. “Now that I’ve been famous and on MTV enough times,” he said, “I know that fame is not the be-all and end-all. My dream is now more realistic. I want to make a good record that people like.”

Perhaps the answer is as simple as having the perfect day job to go with the rock ‘n’ roll aspirations.

Like that of Scott Radinsky. He travels around the country, works only eight months a year and earns a couple of million dollars annually for his troubles. Radinsky is a relief pitcher, formerly with the Dodgers, who recently signed a two-year, $5.5-million contract with the St. Louis Cardinals.

His band, Pulley, which played last Friday in Radinsky’s hometown, Simi Valley, is signed with the punk label Epitaph Records.

Radinsky has been in bands since junior high but found a more secure living in baseball.

In a recent article for this paper, he said, “There’s really no major stress in this band about trying to make it. It’s just all about having a good time.”

That’s easy for him to say.

Wendy Miller is a Times staff writer.