Stiletto: Behind the Scenes With Beijing's Newest Band

How hard can it be, I’d wondered, to put together a band? More to the point, how hard could it be to put together a band in time for our inaugural New Music Showcase – which was coming up in three weeks?

Open Call (21 days until the New Music Showcase)
It all began with an ad in TheBeijinger.com classifieds. Humble beginnings, sure, but all bands need to start somewhere.

Fan, a guitarist, was the first respondent. His email said he was looking for guys to jam with after a long time without a band. I approached a drummer, who I also knew could sing. He was in, we had a duo. The third and final piece of our jigsaw fell into place when I found myself in the office kitchen watching a shaggy-haired Italian squeezing and twisting sounds from electronic equipment through a small pair of desktop speakers. He’d arrived here at True Run Towers in the hope of impressing with an impromptu audition for our Showcase. I told Marco that the lineup for the Showcase had already been finalized. Then he mentioned he was formerly a bass player. Seizing the opportunity, I enlisted Marco, and “the Beijinger Band” was born.

An Early Setback (16 days to go)
“Bassists are always the sketchy ones in a band.” Wise words from Fan on the day of our first meeting, regarding Marco, who wasn’t able to attend. There was enough sketchiness to go around, though – our drummer suddenly realized he’d be unable to make August 18 (Showcase day) due to work commitments.

Fan had brought along two other guys he’d met as part of a musical side project: Otis, a tall, mild-mannered German vocalist, and Blades, a headbanded American, who looked every inch the guitarist and frontman he professed to be. Over a few beers, we planned the first rehearsal later that week at a space in Beixinqiao.

First Rehearsal (11 days to go)
Drummers are notoriously hard to come by in Beijing. Given their paucity of numbers, a drummer can play for any number of bands at the same time. Fortunately for us, Jon decided that he liked our budding group. A teacher and veteran of the scene, he had been recommended to us as “a safe pair of hands.”

Like the coming together of tectonic plates, the fallout from a band’s opening exchanges can be far-reaching. Musicians must have egos. It’s not easy performing in front of people, and without a certain level of chutzpah, no one would care to watch you. I was surprised at how quickly the character of the band began to take shape.

Minus Marco, who was running late, the rest of the band seemed to form organically. Blades was clearly the engine. Brash and brimming with ideas of how to refine a performance, he adopted the role of band leader almost instantly, asking questions about equipment and quickly drawing up an initial playlist, which included one of his self-penned tracks.

I was interested to see what Fan, quiet and unassuming, had to offer. Whenever I looked at Fan, I was reminded of the supremely talented boy from the movie School of Rock whose parents had forbidden him from playing rock music. As the guys warmed up their tools at that first rehearsal, Fan unsheathed an immaculate white guitar signed by his hero, Paul Gilbert, and belted out a series of face-shredding guitar solos, leaving us in no doubt that he was the band’s trump card. Otis, the lead singer, seemed particularly nervous and struggled to make his mark on that opening practice.

Marco eventually arrived, over an hour late, and manfully set about getting into the spirit of the jam with the bass guitar I had borrowed on his behalf – he’d left his back home and hadn’t picked up a bass in a long time, and it showed. As first sessions go, it was promising, though. The band planned to meet again two days later for a second practice.

Marco Leaves the Band (10 days to go)
That night, I received a text from Fan. Marco had told the band that he didn’t think he was up to it; he had graciously decided to drop out and give the band a chance to find a suitable replacement before it was too late. It was a blow. Time was running short. Immediately I set about finding a replacement, but Fan beat me to it. He emailed me the next morning to say the new bassist was Ryan, an American teacher with years of experience playing around the city. At second practice the next day, Ryan slipped effortlessly into the band’s Marco-shaped hole. The lineup had finally taken shape – I was quite pleased with this five-piece band.

As duty called and I headed back to the office after that second practice, I had no idea what was about to happen over some chuanr and a few beers.

The Ousting of Otis (7 days to go)
I received a text from Fan the next morning: “Hey Paul, just a heads up. Otis is out of the band. We talked for a while after practice last night and decided he wasn’t ready and won’t be in time for the show.”

I was surprised, but Otis had struggled both times I’d watched the band rehearse. Fan told me Otis had been hurt by the decision, protesting that he’d prove himself. He’d planned to show up at the open-mic session the band had scheduled to perform at, to show them he could still be useful. But Fan managed to talk him down, and Otis eventually accepted their decision.

These guys meant business. At the end of the text, Fan mentioned that they’d decided on a name. After a turbulent opening to their story, Stiletto was born.

Open-Mic Night (3 days to go)
After managing to squeeze in another practice, Stiletto was planning to unleash the short set they’d developed on V.A. Bar in sleepy Wudaoying Hutong. I was excited to see how they’d progressed. Ryan, well-known in open-mic circles, suggested that V.A.’s was a chilled crowd which might not enjoy being subjected to Stiletto’s rage. Blades’ response was emphatic: “I have no shame, man. If they want to pull me off that stage, they can.” Ryan could but shrug, Fan shuffled nervously, I rubbed my hands in glee. A quarter of an hour later, Jon arrived from a late teaching shift and jumped straight on to the drummer’s stool.

I can’t imagine what the snoozy few inside V.A. Bar thought when a noisy four-piece took the stage, with a frontman doing an admirable Axl Rose impersonation, a hulking dread-locked drummer, and two guitarists ripping through scales and loudly tuning their axes. But the moment Fan burst into the delightful opening licks of Mr. Big’s “Green-Tinted Sixties Mind” (arguably the magnum opus of his hero Paul Gilbert), the few in attendance sat up and took notice. People who had set up for a quiet night outside came in to see what the noise inside was about. Stiletto burst into the visceral “Seek and Destroy” by Metallica. Buoyed by the generous applause, the band settled into their groove as they performed Blades’ self-penned track “Complicity,” before thrilling the gathering with a fine rendition of the Guns N’ Roses classic, “Sweet Child of Mine.”

I couldn’t help but feel some pride as Stiletto blazed through their modest repertoire, sounding as though they’d played together for an age. As they exchanged knowing glances and grinned in-jokes throughout their set, it was obvious that in less than two weeks, they had developed a real chemistry. I was less proud when Blades had to be virtually dragged from the stage, as he had promised, after embarking on a solo run through his own back catalogue long after his bandmates had abandoned the stage.

The Big Day
Each of the guys was confident. After all, their last performance had been the knockout set at V.A. Bar.

As their 7.30pm slot approached, they each looked calm, despite the fact that by now a rather imbibed crowd had gathered indoors at 2 Kolegas. The performances up to that point had been consistently impressive and Stiletto must have felt pressure to follow suit.

When their time came, I was pleasantly surprised to see a crowd clearly enjoying the performance. As Ryan bounded around the stage, Fan was in the zone, embarking on a series of impeccable solos. Moments before they burst into “Sweet Child of Mine,” I noticed Jon pouring something onto the drum kit. Then he produced a naked flame and fire swelled from his cymbals. For a heart-stopping moment, I prayed they weren’t about to burn down the venue. Blades, ever the showman, took every opportunity to whip up the crowd. I wondered if any other frontmen that day would have the balls to take on Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean” and Axl Rose in the space of seven minutes.

In the hours that followed, I managed to thank each of them for being my guinea pigs. My experiment had drawn to a conclusion. My findings: There is indeed the necessary talent in Beijing to bring together a group of strangers who can, in three weeks, be ready to put on a show for hundreds of people. And I was pleased to hear that they intended to carry on with Stiletto.

I finally managed to track down Blades. He’d been busy basking in the adulation of a group of girls who’d enjoyed the show right up in front of the stage. “Well done,” I told him, “That was great.” “Thanks, man,” replied Blades. “I’m off to get a beer. Then I’m going to chill out with my new groupies.”

Click here to see the September issue of the Beijinger in full.

Photos: Mitchell Pe Masilun