Local musicians recall finding their own sound bouncing off the cinder block walls

METRO DETROIT — When teenagers start a rock band, they need a place to set up their equipment, practice, hash out ideas and let their creativity flow.

So, they often transform their parents’ basements into makeshift rehearsal spots amid washing machines, low ceilings, worn-out carpeting and concrete floors.

By the time Jimmy Burkard was 12 years old, he knew he wanted to play guitar. A few years later, with music pumping in his veins, he recruited friends Mike Alonso, a drummer, and Kurt Bardak, a bassist, to form Atomic Axe around 1979-80.

The teenage rockers could be found in the basement of Burkard’s Warren childhood home rehearsing KISS, Black Sabbath, Rush and Van Halen tunes. Burkard’s mom, dad and four sisters became used to the sonic booms that shook the walls. Atomic Axe was pre-internet and relied on vinyl records and cassette tapes to hone their craft.

“You kept having to rewind cassette tapes. You put the (record) needle back to where you needed it to be,” said Burkard, a 1982 Mott High School graduate and professional musician who now lives in the Los Angeles area. “You just go over and over it to get it as close as you can.”

The band didn’t soundproof their basement digs nor dim the lights to create a mood.

“It was just a hard tile floor and very bright,”  Burkard said.

But it worked.

“The basement was like a sanctuary,” Burkard remembered. “You felt safe. It was your space.”

Early on, they relied on a “little practice amp.” When Bardak and Burkard got jobs at the local Towne Club soda store, they spent their paychecks on stacks of Marshall amps.

“We wanted the gear our idols were using,” Burkard said. “It was all set up along one wall.”

Sometimes the decibels went to “11.” Burkard can still picture “my dad laying on the couch after work” upstairs telling the band “You guys sound great.” At one point, two of Burkard’s sisters — Krissy and Judy — moved their bedroom downstairs. Krissy’s bed was right next to the band’s speakers with only a curtain in between. There were many nights while in college she stayed up late studying to drum beats and guitar riffs.

“I did well in school, so maybe that helped me,” Krissy said. “I didn’t mind it. It was something to remember.”

Atomic Axe became the go-to band at basement parties in the neighborhood, including the night law enforcement busted up one out-of-control bash.

“Getting shut down by the police, that was like a badge of honor,” Burkard said.

Still playing music, Burkard tours with the Sweet and performs solo. Check him out on Instagram at @jimmyburkard and @spsweetband.

 

‘Music is what drew us all together.’
In 1997, eight Cousino High School band students in Warren formed their own ska group, Peanut Butter Mosquito, better known as PBM. They either headed over to rhythm guitar player Nate Castle’s or trumpeter Tom Torrento’s to rehearse, where their parents welcomed the “noisy chaos.”

“Nate’s parents were both musicians. His mom liked to sing. Dad was a very accomplished bluegrass guitar player,” Torrento said. “They’d rather have us in the basement innocent and productive than out on the streets getting in trouble. Music is what drew us all together.”

Although the basement dwellings were cramped with so many musicians, they found their groove.

“There was never enough room for all of us to be way too loud. We would spread out and tuck the drum set into any open corner,” Torrento said. “It was tight.”

Rehearsal lasted anywhere from 90 minutes to three hours. It often started when a band member, at his school locker, blurted out, “Do you guys want to get together and practice?” But there was one stop to make first: the local coffee shop to get wired on caffeine.

At the Torrento household, there was an old dining room table that came in handy. The guys lounged around and relaxed during breaks. PBM played original music.

“Nate would write the songs,” Torrento said. “We’d figure out the lyrics and chords and add the layers of music to kind of build the song.”

Others noticed their talents. From 2003 to 2007, PBM toured Europe, the U.S. and drew fans at many college towns. Torrento said the tour bus “fueled writing new stuff. We were immersed in the music.”

Currently, Torrento is the director of bands at Grosse Pointe North High School and Parcells Middle School in the Grosse Pointe Public School System. PBM reunited a few years ago for its 25-year anniversary. Check them out at Shorestoberfest from 6 to 8 p.m. Oct. 12 at Blossom Heath Park, 24800 Jefferson Ave. in St Clair Shores. For more information, go to pbmband.com.

 

‘We had some great times, I mean just great times.’
Before China White ventured onto the local music scene, the five members rotated practice spots in their parents’ basements between Utica and Romeo. That meant hauling instruments up and down the stairs, but the change of pace kept the band from becoming complacent. They’d secure their speakers along the cinder block walls and play away.

“It was a full volume basement practice,” singer Chris Neumann said. “We had all the regular guitar amps. Full microphones.”

The band created a following with gigs at the Romeo Theatre, Romeo Peach Festival, the Rink in Shelby Township, the Ritz in Roseville and the Lewisville Smoke Bar and Grill in Port Hope, Michigan. China White, which took its name from a Scorpions song, got together in the mid-1980s playing everything from the Guess Who and the Monkees to Ratt and AC/DC with some Ozzy Osbourne tossed in.

“It was basically covers, album-oriented rock playing on radio stations,” Neumann said. “That’s what people in the bars wanted to hear at the time.”

The parents were good sports about the rumblings underneath the stairs, even when a picture frame or two got knocked over. Their moms and dads went to the bars to see the band perform live.

“All the parents were supportive,” said Neumann, a 1982 Utica High School graduate. “My mom and dad loved it when we came over and played.”

While rock ‘n’ rollers are known for hard partying, China White kept it professional. They didn’t drink alcohol when working on songs. To stay focused on the music, rehearsals were off limits to their girlfriends and friends at the time, except for the last few minutes when everyone got a sneak peak. After practice, the group decompressed at Big Boy or Ram’s Horn.

“Fun — that was the goal,” Neumann said of the band. “We had some great times, I mean just great times. It was friends that were playing music.”