COVER STORY : Playing for Time : It’s an uphill battle for local bands struggling to ‘make it’ in the music world. Members of the Valley’s Good Dog Nigel juggle day jobs with the demands of night work and keep hoping for a break.

It had been a long day and a long week for the members of the San Fernando Valley-based band Good Dog Nigel before they ever started their three-hour Friday night gig.

After working dutifully at day jobs all week, they loaded up their musical gear Friday after work, drove to the Agoura Hills cafe where they would sing and play for the evening, unloaded, set up their equipment and then, finally, began to do what each of them loves most--play music.

Three hours and four hoarse voices later, they would go through the routine in reverse. Break down the equipment, stuff it into their cars, drive home and unload. Tips for the evening, which included two electric sets and one acoustic, were $39, the evening’s total take. “It’s better than nothing,” one band member muttered.

They all agree that it’s better to play and be tired than not to play.

Every night, in any given city, thousands of living room-born bands such as Good Dog Nigel fight their way onto the country’s stages in the name of trying to “make it.” That most of them will not--that is, never get signed by a label, never cut an album, never make any money--is no deterrent. For these mostly young people, a reward is a 20-minute opportunity to publicly play their music, and a victory is hearing a stranger hum one of their songs as he leaves a cramped and smoky club.

“If it wasn’t for the fact that I love to play, I would have quit ages ago,” said founding member Mike Laskavy, a guitar player from North Hollywood. “If we never make it, we’re still going to play for our own enjoyment.”

*

Good Dog Nigel started out four years ago when Laskavy, now a 34-year-old promotional writer for the Hollywood Reporter, took out an ad for a drummer. The ad brought in Suzanne Gee of Toluca Lake, a 29-year-old T-shirt shop employee.

Steve Janowski, 28, a computer technician from West Hills, is the group’s fourth bass player, joining in mid-1992. In February, 1993, they picked up Halina Janusz of Tarzana, a 29-year-old preschool teacher, after hearing her sing and play guitar at a Reseda record store, Odds & Sods.

They call their music alternative rock, with influences of blues, folk and country. Janusz, a soulful singer with a clear, deep sound, trades off lead vocals with Janowski and Laskavy. Part Grateful Dead, part 10,000 Maniacs, they say that their music sounds “familiar” to their fans.

Although they have day jobs, have not signed with a label and do not have a rehearsal studio, the group doesn’t want to be called a “garage band.” To them, that sounds like kids playing around, and they stress that they take their music seriously.

They had better, says Tim Devine, vice president of A & R--artists and repertoire--at Capitol Records.

Devine, who has been in the business for 15 years, said his department receives an average of 200 to 300 demo tapes a week from bands throughout the country. He personally gets about six pitches a day from bands desperate to tell him how great they really are.

But Devine, whose latest successes include the group Blind Melon, said he signs only one or two bands all year.

“For the majority of them, it’s not going to happen,” Devine said. “With so many bands out there, there needs to be something that sets a band apart from the pack. As A & R people, we’re looking for the one in a million, as opposed to the one of a million.”

The members of Good Dog Nigel are trying to be just that. But it can be tough--like all young bands, they are their own managers, accountants, publicists, agents, recording engineers, designers and boosters.

Over the years, they have become good friends, taking in group trips and events in addition to rehearsals and infrequent performances. They try, with varying degrees of success, to rehearse twice a week.

First, there are the practicing problems. By the time each member gets home from work, changed and set up in Janowski’s West Hills living room, it is close to 8 p.m. They have to quit by 10 p.m. or risk further alienating Janowski’s reasonably tolerant roommates and neighbors.

They also have to drum up a following and maintain it, so at every gig they pass a clipboard asking fans for their names and addresses.

As they get new music jobs, the band members design, photocopy and mail flyers to the 130 names on their list, hoping that at least some of the people who have seen them before will want to see them again. They also canvass record stores, cafes and other young people’s hangouts, dropping off flyers and asking clerks to pass the word.

Then there’s the process of trying to book performances. The key, they said, is to be agreeable to the most disagreeable suggestions.

“There are so many other bands in town who all want a gig at their club that if you don’t want to cooperate, they’ll pass over you and go to the next one,” Laskavy said.

Being from the Valley doesn’t help, they said, although it provides them with a loyal following. “It’s just not considered the cool place,” Laskavy said, shrugging. Added Janusz: “It’s hipper to be from Hollywood.”

Laskavy is usually the one who calls the bookers--who often never call back. The bookers who have seen the band before, heard a tape or caught some buzz around town about them might eventually take one of Laskavy’s calls.

Every band wants to play at 9 p.m. on a weekend, the slot most likely to garner a big crowd. But more often, especially at the big Hollywood clubs, Good Dog will be offered a very late set or a very early set, and often on a weekday to boot. Forty-five minutes is considered a nice block of time; Good Dog Nigel often gets 30 minutes or less.

There is also the Catch-22 of the booker’s demands that they bring in a crowd. If they don’t play at a good time, it’s hard to get people to come or find new fans. But if people don’t come, a band will never be booked into a good time.

Good Dog Nigel is persistent. “The more you play, the more you will play,” Laskavy said.

Like any group of friends that spends a lot of time together, the band members bicker. Sometimes they argue about money, who owes whom what, who paid for what, who spent more. Other times, it’s about the divvying up of tasks: who should post flyers, who should make calls, who should do mailers. Each one has a day job, they note, and time is as tight as their limited resources.

The trick, they said, is not to avoid arguing; it’s to avoid letting non-music arguments affect the music--and to stay focused on what they want.

Even at a gig, the group must worry about more than harmonies and pitch. On top of the other indignities, they are also their own roadies.

They cram their cars with equipment, drive to shows, unload and set up minutes before they begin--exhausted already--to play. At the end of the set, they face the same drill, with the next band rushing them to clean up and get off the stage.

“No matter how great your set was, or how many people you brought in, there’s another band waiting,” Laskavy said, perhaps speaking as much about the realities of the business as about the nightly pace.

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For a while, everything seemed to be going Good Dog’s way.

In an anonymous poll of music industry insiders conducted by the L.A.-based trade magazine Music Connection, the band was listed among the hottest unsigned bands in Los Angeles. Last December, the San Francisco-based Bam, a free music magazine, said the band “plays honest music, with no effort to follow trends.”

Said Rock City, an L.A. newspaper: “Good Dog Nigel have a great relaxed feel to them reminiscent of some of the best ‘60s pop, rock and folk bands. With their variety of influences and roots, they make music that’s different yet accessible.”

Finally, the record labels started to call. Big-time A & R guys wanted copies of the demo tapes and schedules of their gigs.

The momentum on their side, the band braced themselves for their chance. Two big gigs at top Sunset Strip clubs in Hollywood encouraged them to think big and seemed a perfect way to present themselves to the labels.

But it wasn’t going to work out that way.

The first of the two gigs, at the Roxy last March, was doomed by an ugly time slot. Bands are evaluated on their following; an ability to fill a club is crucial both to being re-booked at a club and to getting the attention of the labels. Good Dog Nigel was expected to produce fans at midnight on a Friday who were also willing to pay $15 to get in and $5 to park.

But by the time they went on, it was closer to 1 a.m., and many of their friends had long since headed out--in part because of a not-so-inviting band that went on just before them.

“We got as many people as we could,” Janusz said. “Our draw was just short of what the booker was looking for.” The booker had wanted 40 people and about 35 showed. The A & R representative, who had seemed enthusiastic about the show, was not among them.

“Some of the nights they didn’t show were some of our best gigs,” Janusz said.

A few weeks later, Good Dog Nigel was slated to take the stage at the Whisky at 8 p.m. Twenty-five of their fans showed for the weekday gig, but others who wanted to support the band simply got there late--as did the label rep. He came in during the last song and never followed up.

“I see really crummy bands getting signed and I see incredibly talented people wasting away, being ignored,” Laskavy said. “I think we have something to offer. Whether or not an A & R guy thinks he can market us, I don’t know.”

After those two shows, label interest tapered off and with it, the band’s hopes of getting signed any time soon. Janusz, like the other band members, is matter-of-fact. “Sometimes it feels more imminent than others,” she said.

The four hope to rekindle the attention. Good Dog Nigel has recently produced another demo tape, at a cost of about $3,000 of the band members’ money, and is beginning the process of collecting addresses, creating mailers and sending it out.

Last time, when they sent out demo tapes, they included a self-addressed, stamped postcard with each one. All it asked was that the addressee check off a few boxes, “Like it,” “Didn’t like it,” and, perhaps, write a few suggestions. Out of 12 postcards, two were mailed back.

But they’ll do it all again anyway. “The more we try,” Laskavy said, “the better our chances are.”

The four members of Good Dog Nigel say they knew what they were getting into. Each of them grew up in families that either played music or revered it. No one had any false ideas about the band’s chances, they said; prospects of ever making a living doing what they love are slim and they know it.

“I’d be playing music until the day I die whether anyone would listen or not,” Janusz said. “If that’s sitting on my back porch playing the banjo, then that’s what I’ll do.”

Valley Hot Spots

Some places to hear local bands:

* The Blue Saloon, 4657 Lankershim Blvd., North Hollywood. (818) 766-4644 * Bourban Square, 15324 Victory Blvd., Van Nuys. (818) 997-8562 * Cobalt Cafe, 22047 Sherman Way, Canoga Park. (818) 348-3789 * Eagle’s Coffee Pub, 5231 Lankershim Bl, North Hollywood. (818) 760-4212 * Iguana Cafe, 10943 Camarillo St., North Hollywood. (818) 763-7735 * Lose the Blues, 28888 Roadside Dr., Agoura Hills. (818) 889-8009 * Palomino, 6907 Lankershim Blvd., North Hollywood. (818) 764-4010 * Pelican’s Retreat, 24454 Calabasas Road, Calabasas. (818) 222-1155.