ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Wednesday, January 24, 1996 TAG: 9601240014
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: CHRIS HENSON STAFF WRITER
The problem with being a musician is that you never get a chance to dance. You're left setting the stage for the tender moments of other people's lives. You play the furtive waltzes and the blatant fox-trots, the swings, the twists and the ballads that send lovers tripping like fools into each other's arms.
And you play on. You strum and honk and croon at their weddings and anniversaries. You're the pulse of celebration. The rhythm of memory.
You are handed notes on napkins. "Please play 'Our Song'," it says, and it gives the title of a tune you know well. In your own way you keep each romance alive from your perch on the bandstand. It's a lot of responsibility.
Still, just once you'd like to break that wall, step out onto the dance floor and take someone by the hand.
Ah ... but here's another napkin, and you know this song, too...
The Annual Musicmakers' Ball, held last Saturday night at the Roanoke Civic Center Convention Hall, was a chance for regional musicians to listen to and play for the people they respect the most - other musicians. And, more importantly, it was a chance to dance.
"That's how it started," says Adrian Willis, president of American Federation of Musicians Local 165, which puts on the ball. The idea was to give entertainers an opportunity of their own to congregate and celebrate.
"It started on a Sunday night in '54," he says. "The next year they wanted to bring guests, the next year the guests wanted to bring guests. We were up to 1,600 people at one time."
"It's really amazing," says Ron Chewning, a member of Willis' band, The Equalizers. "They never advertise this thing, it's all word of mouth...and it sells out every year." This year 900 people paid $15 apiece to hear seven musical acts perform.
"Proceeds go to the operation of our union," says Willis, "to provide life insurance to the members and keep our union afloat. We mostly protect our members who go out and fail to get paid."
Local 165 has some pretty impressive members, and not just the local ones.
"We have the Nighthawks, the Statler Brothers, the Dave Matthews Band and Allison Krause, to name a few," says Willis, who has been president of the local since 1985. "We have a lot area and regional bands that play all over the state, and the Carolinas."
This is the 42nd annual ball. Willis has been coming since 1957.
Local folkie Curley Ennis starts the evening with songs and story-telling. He sits alone on an enormous double stage. The lights are dim; a symphony of conversation fills the room.
Meanwhile, groups of partiers arrive with Igloo coolers full of food and drinks, sandwiches, chicken, chips and salsa - nourishment for an evening of hoofing it up. They find seats at long banquet tables, shake hands, talk about this crazy weather and the new year. It's a sort of indoor family reunion picnic atmosphere. Aged 8 to 80, they come with family or friends. There are church groups, high school band members, and lots of union musicians.
Charlie Fuquay came all the way from Stuarts Draft for the ball.
"I am a musician," he says. "I'm in a band, but just for fun." He heard about the event through a friend who's a regular attendee. "I really like the diversified styles of music," he says.
He's wearing a diversified tie, with bold bright stripes. "It's my party tie," he says, smiling. "It has eleven different colors, so it goes with anything."
At 9 p.m., the Kazim Temple Noblemen Big Band takes the stage playing Woody Herman's "Wood Chopper's Ball." The ample dance floor instantly is stormed by throngs of swingers. The Nobleman thunder through wartime favorites, while the crowd crushes to jitter and sway with the pounding beat.
Ace Wall, the band's manager and emcee for 30 years, says the Nobleman play Shrine functions mostly. "We have two dances a year," he says. "The Spring Fling, and the Fall Ball."
Then, the band Domino knocks the crowd over with beach music and some funky business. Just as a lot of teen-agers danced to the swing music before, more than a few gray heads bounce to songs like "My Prerogative." The horns blat familiar Motown licks, while drummer David Elliot delights the crowd with some fancy stickwork around a rack of tom-toms.
A lot of young people are at the ball, girls coifed and corsaged and in sparkly dresses, guys in starched shirts and flashy ties. They work their way from the dance floor to conversation klatches in the wings.
Next come the Mavericks, with a country hoe-down. To the right of the stage, two girls do a synchronized dance. Sherry Thompson, a college student in Charlottesville, explains that it's perfectly OK to line dance, even if they are the only ones.
"Two people," she says, "that's a line, isn't it?"
After the Mavericks countrify the crowd with foot-stomping rockabilly, they slow things down so that leader Eddie Bennington can sing what he calls a TMT song. That means "tummies must touch".
A young woman with a Holly Golightly hairdo holds her hands over her ears while dancing with friends.
"I don't like this song," explains India Houston of Troutville. "So, I was thinking about a different one."
Meanwhile, about 900 tummies are touching. The Mavericks keep it up, with guitars a-jangling.
"Sure I'm here to meet chicks," says one teen-age guy who won't give his name. "But I'm also here with my parents...they're kind of keeping an eye on me."
Next up is a band called Cheaper Than Therapy. It has a repertoire of good-time oldies, with lots of harmonies.
"We were the pit orchestra for the 'Little Shop of Horrors' production that the Showtimers did eight years ago," says bassist Derrick Hollandsworth. "We would play before and after the show just for fun. We figured it was cheaper than therapy, so we decided to have a band.
The Stylists Orchestra continues things with a set of jazz standards.
And finally, shortly after midnight, Adrian Willis and his Equalizers take the stage to bring the evening to a rocking close.
"People seem to come with a party attitude," says Willis. "We just have a lot of fun."
There's more to playing music than knowing all the chords and words to a song, or being able to tell when it's time to "slow one down for the ladies".
There's the nuance of notes, and the business end of the beat to contend with. That's why musicians don't happen overnight.
Some say the ability to play music is a gift. But members of the American Federation of Musicians, Local 165, know better. They know the gift is watching people dance, hearing them sing along. Playing music is hard work; sharing it is the payoff.
All the rest of the year they'll be on the bandstand, playing the tunes that mean the most to us, reminding us how to fall in love. Playing "our songs".
So, as you hand over a napkin with "Autumn Leaves" or "Soul Man" written on it, remember this: If you want to dance you've got to pay the band. And this is one union you don't want to mess with.
LENGTH: Long : 131 lines ILLUSTRATION: PHOTO: Eric Brady. 1. David Elliott, a drummer with the bandby CNBDomino, gets into the music last Saturday at the Musicmakers' Ball.
2. Dancers (above) mix it up on the floor at the ball. 3. Wilber
Grant (inset at left) plays clarinet with the Kazim Noblemen.
color.