Rock solid education

There's a whole lotta learnin' goin' on as kids plug in and play together

Being married is hard enough. But being in a band is like having a four-way, five-way, six-way or more marriage. Keeping everybody happy is an exponential juggling act.

But this country was built on teamwork, like this city was built on rock 'n' roll. Which is why there are no stars in the Rock Works Music classes, even if the kids have stars in their eyes. Everybody plays, and if they don't play well with each other, why, it's cacophony. So what? Instructor Brian Albus has been teaching kids how to rock for more than two decades, "and if there's one thing I've learned, it's that the worst thing you can say to a kid is, 'You're not capable of succeeding.'"

Rock Works has been a Kailua fixture for years, branching out recently into downtown classes. "Even after all this time, we're still a novelty," said Albus. "The movie 'School of Rock' was great for me because now I don't have to go into lengthy explanations of what we do."

And what they do is more than rockin'.

"I'm convinced that every single kid can develop an incredible ear," Albus mused. "In adults, older people, the doors and windows of the brain have closed. Like learning a language -- it sinks in better at an early age. Our goal here isn't to develop rock stars, but to give kids a lifetime of music."

Albus has the mildly absent-minded air of the professor from "Gilligan's Island," and no wonder, he also taught science for a couple of decades at Kailua High School. He taught guitar on the side, and one day in 1982, he asked a talented student what she wanted to do with her newly learned skills, and she blurted out that she wanted to play in a band.

"It clicked in my head. Why not? Instead of one on one, we teach rock as a socialization event, where it's most important that the kids have a positive experience playing WITH each other."

The early efforts were more "garage band" in scope, Albus explained, and he eventually hit on the concept of having all the kids playing into a mixer and listening through headphones. The noisiness of band practice evolved into a learning experience where each kid was on an equal footing, volume-wise, and everybody could hear everybody.

"Now we can accommodate 20-plus kids without stepping on toes."

Roll over, Beethoven -- these kids ready to rock

The kids in this rehearsal session are mostly under 10 years old, many of them shorter than the instruments they play, some clearly destined for rockdom and a few others clearly not. No matter. The kids are having the time of their lives.

So are a couple of parents.

"It's fantastic," said Wendy York, videotaping everything. "It's the only kind of this activity available, and they're playing in a rock band! They enjoy it so much."

Son Taylor said that the two-hour rehearsal "feels like 10 minutes," while daughter Ariana professed her love for AC/DC and ZOEgirl. "It's like so fun to do a concert," she confessed after a ponder.

This particular session was for the younger rock students studying in Rock Works Music's summer classes.

"The older kids, older than 10, they can pretty much handle anything you throw at them," said instructor Brian Albus. "They're good kids. Just don't give them too much idle time or they'll tear the place up!"

"The songs need to have some lasting value, universal types of songs -- Bob Seger, Chuck Berry, Beach Boys -- and the kids also like to play newer stuff like Weezer, Los Lonely Boys, Green Day. They really like Green Day.

"Sometimes we have to edit a bit. Can this song be played in front of Grandma?"

Patience is not just a virtue, it's a requirement. "I don't care how well you play guitar or piano -- can you work with kids?" Albus asks, rhetorically. "It's a social process. We don't send them home to practice alone in their rooms. This is about playing with others."

While son Joel played an animated rhythm guitar, aided by -- yes, patient -- assistant Bruce Bolos, Albus lined up the kids for lyric practice (hey, Mick Jagger is still using a teleprompter). They careened through Bob Seger's "Old Time Rock 'n' Roll," and Albus advised them to "be a little more animated. Use your hands. Don't lean against the wall. OK, let's go to the instruments ... don't run!"

Whatever hesitation they had belting out the vocals, the kids aren't shy around the instruments. They expertly sling them around their necks and seem to know exactly how to plug everything in. The mixer is set up so they largely hear only their own instrument. Some kids, once they become guitar slingers, can't help but start strike rock star poses.

Every once in a while a kid gets in the zone and, glassy-eyed, continues to strum after the song has ended, but generally they lurch off together and straggle home together.

Christian Tjioe, 9, really workin' the backbeat on the electric drum kit, makes an impassioned plea for a click-stick start, while Ariana York, 8, plays a precise piano lead on the keyboards. The vocals -- well, the kids are better at chirpy fillips than blazing lead vocals.

It's not all music. There's a discussion of stage smoke and special effects, and Albus demonstrates by dropping some dry ice in a water container. "We can't use the smoke generator because we need warm water for that," Albus says.

"Well," a kid suggests, "let's just use a fire extinguisher."

"Let's not," says Albus, stirring the witches' cauldron of foggy fun. "Why do we want fog?"

"For look cool!"

"Yep, that's pretty much it. Don't touch the dry ice, it can burn you. Don't have nightmares about it, just don't touch it."

Mother York got excited about the ersatz laminated backstage passes created by Albus. "They're collectible!" she said.

Another kid wanted a shot at playing drums, and he got it. But he abandoned the beat in the middle of the song to scratch. "Hard to play drums when you have an itchy nose," laughed Albus. "Don't be disappointed if you don't get to play everything."

"Suck it up!" suggested a kid.

Two kids turned and stared at each other. "Suck WHAT up?" one stage-whispered.

"OK, next song," called out Albus. "Take a deep breath."

"Thank you, America!" someone giggled, and struck a pose.