Times They Are A Changin'

“Where else could you parlay that talent?”

 

That was a question someone asked me while looking at my concert photos the other day, after I told them I didn’t do it for a living because no one really wants to pay for that kind of work. I was flattered by the compliment, of course, but the answer holds true. I like to consider myself a photographer, and can even call myself a professional since I have gotten paid on occasion.

 

The market, however, is saturated with people like me, though. I saw someone local post on Facebook a few weeks back asking for recommendations on local photographers that can do indoor and outdoor portrait photos. I don’t really do portraits because, frankly, I’m terrible at them. (I’ve done them a few times and I’m lucky I didn’t get hunted with pitchforks.) In response, I saw at least a dozen names thrown out there, and I only knew one or two of them. In a town of 40,000 people, that’s a LOT of photography!

DSLR cameras are getting cheaper all the time, with the lower-end cameras getting the performance that cost four or five figures just ten years ago. Cellphone camera technology has gotten to the point that fans shooting photos from the first dozen rows at concerts are getting shots that some pros can’t get, especially when access is limited to shooting further back by the artists.

And artists themselves, they’re finding less and less reason to need photographers. Magazines and newspapers are dying, even online. When it comes to music media, even the venerable Rolling Stone magazine has announced that they’ve put themselves on the market recently. Social media is the new communications method, and at any given shot, a performer can expect hundreds or even thousands of images to pop up instantly after – often during! – the shows. Even radio stations just send their own people and grab cellphone shots to share! (This isn’t a knock, by the way. I know that’s an industry trying to figure things out, too, where they have people wearing more hats than ever before, covering on-air and behind-the-scenes responsibilities!)

 

So where does that leave me? I’m over 40 now, and I’m just starting to dip my foot into something that I would love to do for a living, but it’s a field that’s becoming extinct. My name isn’t Ross Halfin or Todd Owyoung or Annie Liebovitz. I’m not really getting calls asking me to go to shows (I have gotten a handful of those from a publicist for smaller, up-and-coming acts). When I go shoot shows, they’re for myself, and for fun. This might be shooting myself in the foot if the wrong people read it, but I work freelance through the local paper because you have to be credentialed through a reputable source to get in the door. But the deal is I use their name, they run photos and reviews on occasion, but that’s the exchange. It’s not for-hire work. I think it’s a fair trade, because it’s gotten me into shows I wouldn’t get any other way.

But I’m still subject to photo releases from the band, which means they tell me where I can shoot, for how long, and what I can (and can’t) do with the photos afterward. I’ve seen some photographers talking about how they simply refuse to sign those. I guess I could try that, and then I would imagine I would be told to have a nice drive home.  As I said, the bands and artists don’t need me at this stage in the game, so they get to set the rules.

Back to the original question: Where can I parlay what I love doing (and what some people apparently see as me doing well) into a money-making gig? The answer to that is…I have no idea. A band might call me tomorrow and offer to take me out as a tour photographer. That would be cool. The odds of that are about the same as them picking a kid from the crowd to join them as a guitar player or singer. Which, I might add, has happened, but not very often. I might get offered a deal as a venue photographer somewhere, but since most places have a few shows a year, maybe as many as a few dozen for a really busy venue, that’s still not likely to pay the bills. And that would certainly require moving, also.

None of this is meant to be a complaint. I’m really loving what I’m doing right now. Would I like to be making money at it? Hell, yes, I would! I just think I’ve come along at a time when the whole business is shifting away from that whole model. And that kills me. But as long as I keep getting “approved” in my e-mails, I’ll keep going. I’m seeing performers I love, shows I never thought I’d see, and I’m getting to shoot some (hopefully) great photos of them.

 

And if a few folks are enjoying what they’re seeing, then that’s just a cherry on top for me.

The Battle Rages On

I’ve posted in the past that I won’t be doing a lot of local charitable photo work in the foreseeable future. This really breaks my heart, because there are a lot of great causes out there that definitely deserve the help and the promotion. There are a lot of reasons I’ve had to pull back from these events. Some are selfish – putting more time into doing the concert photography, for example. Some are practical – there are only so many weekends in a year. Some of it has come from the fact that there are a few people out there that just don’t understand the work that goes into photo work, even free work. I don’t make a living at this, so when I’m getting messages at my day job (where I work for silly things like paying bills and eating) to check the status of the non-paying work I did the day before….


But I digress. This isn’t about that. This isn’t a “woe is me.” This is about a charity event I was happy to attend over the weekend. My friend Dawn asked me if I would be willing to get some shots of the party and fashion show that was a fundraiser for the Adams County Suicide Prevention Coalition. I’m not a fashion photographer – if I put on a t-shirt that’s not inside out, it’s a good day. But when Dawn calls for help on these projects, I’ll help anyway I can.


For those who don’t know, Dawn lost her son to suicide in his senior year of high school. I didn’t know Dylan well, maybe a passing word once or twice. But it was at a time my own son was about to start high school. We’ve had our own issue with him, dealing with bullies and personal things that he’s gone through. I won’t say that I can fathom even a fraction of what Dawn or her family or Dylan’s friends have gone through, but I can see the possibilities, and so I’m glad to lend a hand and try and stop it from happening even one more time.


Take a look over at the photo album of the fashion show portion of Saturday night’s event. The models were lovely and handsome, the styles were fabulous with amazing hair and make-up as always. There will be more photos to come of the party, and I do hope everyone enjoys them and had a great time Saturday night. I know, according to Dawn, it was a very successful night from a fundraising side.


If you’re reading this, and you would like to show your support, reach out to the Adams County Suicide Prevention Coalition Facebook page and ask how you can help or donate. If you look through the photos, you’ll see these shirts that say “stigma” with the slash through them:



If you want your own, if you want to help erase the stigma around talking about both suicide and mental health issues in general, contact Ally’s Boutique Quincy. But most importantly, if you have anyone that you’re worried about, or that has expressed thoughts of suicide, just be there for them.


Just listen.

How You Gonna See Me Now

Last year some time, I had the very clever idea of tricking out my camera bag with a custom strap. If I wanted to be a rock & roll photog, I should find a way to look the part, make myself stand out from the crowd! So I took a trip to my favorite home for all music-related purchases, Second String Music (5th & Maine, Quincy, IL! Tell 'em Mike sent you....and watch them say "Mike who?") and grabbed a really cool Levy's "No More Mr. Nice Guy" guitar strap. Cool black and red graphics on the front, lyrics to the song on the back (in case the singer of a cover band loses his place, I guess?). This is a stock photo, but it's the same strap I bought:

I threw on a couple of these carabineer-style rings to hook it to the bag and I was ready to go!

Jump to two weeks ago. I was rushing to get to a show that St. Louis traffic had made me late for. I had to park more than a half mile a way and I was hoofing it in a hurry to get there before I missed the window to shoot from the floor. At the worst possible moment, the end of the strap gave way, nearly dumping my camera gear into the street around 6th & Lucas in downtown St. Louis.


I want to be clear here. This is not a knock on Levy's. They're strap, to a guy that knows nothing about guitars and their accessories, seems really well-made and durable. This is also not even remotely trying to say that Second String sold me a bad product. I feel like anyone that knows Rodney and Sheryl would know that anyway, but this is the internet, so clarity is beneficial. No, the broken strap is completely my fault for using it to carry a weight that is probably double or more what the manufacturer intended it to carry. When you get outside of the intended purpose for a product, all bets are off. This time, I lost that bet. But that's on my head.


Rather than as any criticism, I'm making you read this novella so I could set the stage to praise Boyer's Boot and Shoe here in Quincy. I didn't want to give up the idea of using this cool strap for my camera gear, especially with plenty of more concerts lined up that I'm hoping to shoot (including Alice Cooper, coincidentally!). I took the strap out to Boyer's and showed them what happened and explained what I was looking for: Something durable that can carry the load, and something a little better than the rings to hook it to the bag.


In less than a week, this is what the "shoe elves*" at Boyer's turned out for me:

Gorgeous black leather, maintaining the adjustability of the strap, and slick, flat-black hardware that fits like it was created just for the task. I'm ready to get out and give this new rig a shot, but I can't imagine having any sort of hiccups with it. For those interested in such things, I'll get the first real shot to test it out on Monday, 8/14/17, for the Green Day concert at the Hollywood Casino Amphitheatre. Keep an eye on the Bad Wolf Facebook page for photos and to the Herald-Whig for a full review!


Thanks to Boyer's, as well as Second String Music and Levy's for the great product. It makes me feel a little cooler, even if I'm really not...


*Boyer's commercial by Table Sixteen Productions

It's So Easy

A couple of days ago, I got the e-mail I was hoping for since I sent out the request: I was approved to shoot the Guns N' Roses return to St. Louis.

Axl Rose (l) and Slash

To set the stage, I'm a music fan. But I'm an old-dude music fan. I'm at the point where the music I listen to and concerts I'd like to see are the same acts that I listened to as a kid. Metallica, Poison, Bon Jovi, Guns N' Roses, Def Leppard, Megadeth - the kings of 80s/90s rock and heavy metal scene. This year, I've gotten approval to shoot every one of those acts (and many others) except Guns. Finally, when they hit the Gateway City, I was allowed to roll in with my camera and capture the moment.

From Quincy to St. Louis is, generally, about two hours. A little more some days, a little less others, but right around there. The doors for the show opened at 5:30, with the opening act taking the stage at 6:30. I needed to be there by 6:00 to be ready and escorted down to the floor. I hit the road at 3:30, so that gave me a little padding in case of traffic problems, right?

Slash

Ever driven I-70 in St. Louis, about 4:30 or 5:00 on a rainy weekday afternoon?

About the time I got to the airport, I hit "the traffic." I don't remember it causing me such a long delay before, but by the time I got off of the interstate, it had taken me a little more than three hours to get there. Obviously, that meant I missed the chance to shoot the Deftones opening set.

Now, have you ever decided to go to a big concert where tens of thousands of people are going? How'd you do with parking?

When I finally got into St. Louis, the nightmare continued. Parking lots were full, street construction was making everything a snarl when people were trying to turn and couldn't get back into the flow. It was a bit after 7:00 when I finally got parked...more than half a mile from the venue.

Richard Fortus

A half-mile doesn't seem like much until you have to hoof it with a moderately heavy gear-bag, and you're in a rush because you were supposed to check in at 7:00 for the show. But I was on the ground, and in contact with the marketing guy running things. I was behind, but the show was, too. So we were all good...

...until my bag-strap broke. I customized my camera bag to use a guitar strap because why be like everyone else? The problem is the strap was designed to hold a guitar that runs 7-10 pounds, not a camera bag weighing more double that weight, if not more. And they're definitely not designed for carrying that weight while power-walking through a metropolitan area.

It's enough to make a grown man cry! But who's got time for that kinda nonsense?

(l to r) Duff McKagan, Richard Fortus, Frank Ferrer

I walked in the door at 7:12 and got pointed to the media holding area. Talked to the media rep and got my photo pass - in this case, a wrist band. I got it put on and was told it was time to head to the floor.

Walking through the crowd, carrying my bag (since the strap broke), is where I started assembling my gear: putting lenses on bodies, attaching everything to the two-camera harness I use. All the while, I was dodging concert-goers and trying to follow the other photographers to get to the floor.

Duff McKagan

By the time I hit the photographer area, I was a sweat-soaked, winded mess. But I was there, my equipment was ready to go, and I was about to shoot one of the bands I had been listening to for three-quarters of my life.

Shooting concert photography is always an adventure. Most of the time it's a great adventure.

Sometimes, it becomes a story to be told.

Axl Rose

The Show Must Go On

Music fans are some of the most passionate people in the world. They pretty well define the word “fan” in its original meaning – short for “fanatic.” Find a fan who’s passionate about an act or artists, and then say something bad about that act or artist, watch what happens*.

*if you do this and get hit, don’t come crying to me! It was simply a statement to make a point!

It doesn’t matter what kind of music, either. Hard rock and heavy metal fans have a stereotype/cliché reputation of being mean or fighters, but I guarantee you can find the same thing at a country show, or a hip-hop show…maybe not so much a show with a lighter tone like R&B (I know the crowd at the John Legend show in St. Louis didn’t cause any concern for me!).

I’ve been dropping in on a lot of concerts lately, and I like to read reviews of the shows and comments from fans afterward. I’ve noticed a really surprising trend in some of the fans of these shows: anger. A lot of the ‘hardcore’ fans seem to be very angry over the shows, namely the set-lists. One example: In February, Bon Jovi had a stop on their “This House Is Not For Sale” world tour in St. Louis. They played a total of twenty-four songs, with six of those coming from the new album. That makes sense, right? They’re promoting the new album, they want to play that material. That’s only ¼ of the show. One of the comments posted on Facebook was from a fan that said he left the show halfway through because the band wasn’t playing songs he knew. Obviously, he left too early, because that last nine of twenty-four songs were all songs that have been played to death!

The other side of the coin can be found, too. When Metallica brought their “WorldWired” tour to St. Louis, they played five songs from the new album out of a total of eighteen. Five more came off of their self-titled, 16x-platinum “Black Album.” Of course, there were folks complaining that they play all the same songs, tour after tour. They were looking for deep cuts, tracks that are buried in the lists of songs from the first and second album from more than three decades ago.

This is a long-winded way of getting to my point. How big of a fan are you? Why do you only want to hear “the hits” from a band? But on the flipside of that, what do you expect to hear at a concert catering to ten, fifteen, twenty thousand people?

Eddie Trunk talked about this a month or two back on his SiriusXM show. Bands don’t tour for the hard-core fans. They can’t. There simply aren’t enough of them, and there’s not enough time in a concert-set. When a band goes on tour for a new album, they’re going to play a good number of those songs. That’s truly the point of a tour, promoting a new product. Then they’re going to play the songs that everyone knows because the crowd wants to feel connected. Of course a fan wants to hear Metallica play “Motorbreath” or “No Remorse.” But out of nearly 39,000 people in the stadium in St. Louis, how many would have known those songs? Hard-core fans of Garth Brooks would love to hear “Alabama Clay” and “What She’s Doing Now” from the man in the hat, but what do you remove from his set-list to fit them in?

I’m slightly guilty of this myself. In my review of the Iron Maiden show in Chicago last year, I commented on the fact that “Run to the Hills” wasn’t in the set. This song has been a long-standing staple. But my comment was more one of surprise at the absence, not anger over the omission. Iron Maiden is playing six new tracks and eight hits scattered throughout their career. Maiden is known to have some long, epic songs, so they fill up more of the set-time with fewer songs. But that’s what you should expect from their show.

The point of all this comes down to this question: What kind of a fan are you? Are you the casual fan that only knows the hits and eschews anything new? Are you the hard-nosed ‘no one knows these guys like I do!’ fan that wants to hear obscure tracks that seem more like something you made up? Either of these is fine. This is not a critique of you, but you might want to consider that concerts aren’t really for you. Listen to your albums and enjoy the songs you like. But these two groups are, generally speaking, the fringe groups on either end of the spectrum.

Because live shows, for most bands, are for the fans in the middle. The fans that love to sing along with the classics, and get excited to be “let in early” to the new stuff that hasn’t even hit the store shelves (or streaming feeds) yet. The live shows are for the fans that are fans, no matter what the band is playing.

That’s my take on it, anyway.

Runnin' Down A Dream

On April 4^th of 2016, I received an e-mail that was just about the greatest thing I ever expected from the time I picked up a camera and started to use it a bit more seriously. That was the day I got the message that I was approved for a press/photo pass to my first major tour/show. The official review and photos can be found here, and a few of my own thoughts on it are here.

Aside from the exhilaration, the excitement, and (if I may be so bold) the amazing shots that I got at the show, what I took away was a deep desire to get in there and do it again. I needed to be back in that pit, I had to find a way to get back to that high-energy moment, working alongside others in what legendary NASCAR driver and announcer Darrell Waltrip calls “coopetition” – working with each other while trying to be the best.

From that point, it looked like that was going to be a bit of a false start. I sent a few other requests for shows without hearing anything back for the most part. Because of a connection to a local band, I was able to get access to shoot at the Rick Springfield concert in Ottumwa, and a local event with the phenomenal front-man of TNT, Tony Harnell, both in August. I was still working to fill out a portfolio with local and regional acts while sending requests for larger shows before I gained access to shoot a show on Stryper’s “To Hell with The Devil” 30^th anniversary tour in November of 2016.

When 2017 started, I started watching for big tour announcements. Another one of those bands I’ve been a fan of most of my life, Bon Jovi, announced a show coming to St. Louis. I figured it was a long-shot, but I sent off my request. One of the biggest acts in the world, on a hugely anticipated tour supporting a new album that was hot on the charts? What are the odds, right?

I don’t know what the odds would be, but I beat them. I got a message from the venue – the Scottrade Center in St. Louis – with approval for the show. I can’t say too much will beat that first show from April 2016 (not much, but give me a minute), but I would say this may have been the most important approval I received. It’s always been said in business it’s not what you know, it’s who you know. Making the contact and, apparently, impressing the folks at the venue (or at least convincing them I’m not a gibbering idiot) has led me on a road I don’t want to end.

After that Bon Jovi show in February, I was energized and started to scour the St. Louis concert calendar. Some shows I wanted because the acts are well known, some because I’m just a fan-boy (and they’re well known), and all of them I considered a pipe dream. But what started in Chicago in April last year has led to a recent new height.

Remember I said not much would ever top that first show? Well, standing in the pit, feet away from the biggest of the Big 4, grabbing shots of Metallica in the rain at Busch Stadium is something I’ll never forget, even without the photos. And the ticket. And the photo pass.

The truth is, it’s all a rolling snowball. Shooting local shows got me in to Iron Maiden and Rick Springfield, which got me in to Stryper and then Bon Jovi, which got me more shoots in St. Louis leading up to one of the biggest shows in the city, and opening even more doors going forward.

From April 6^th, 2016 through June 4^th, 2017, these are the national acts (with openers)* I’ve been privileged to work:

Iron Maiden, with The Raven Age opening
Rick Springfield

Tony Harnell with Virus (from Dope)

Stryper

Bon Jovi

Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers (Joe Walsh opened, but I missed his set due to traffic)
The Chainsmokers, with Kiiara opening

Roger Waters (of Pink Floyd)

Metallica, with Volbeat and The Local H opening

I have a lot of requests out for shows in the next few months. I’m hoping to add to this list with some other huge names in the music business before the end of the year.

But this isn’t too bad of a start.

**Update (before I even posted it!)**

I jotted down my thoughts this morning in the long-winded bloviation above. At lunch time, before I could even get this posted, I got an e-mail that floored me.

I’ve been invited – not had a request approved, but asked directly – to shoot a show for an upcoming show in St. Louis. I’ve apparently made a big enough splash with a PR guy that he’s got my name floating around in his head. And not in a bad way!



*all photos from these shows except Iron Maiden/The Raven Age are available at badwolfmedia.net/facebook

Happy Birthday, Dad

Today (Nov 19) is my dad’s birthday. Since my parents divorced when I was three or four, I haven’t really done much for his birthday. A card sent when I was younger, a text or a Facebook message in more recent years. It certainly was never about not caring. In some ways, I really take after him, or at least the side of him I’ve always known: not opening up easily, not sharing emotions very openly. One way I know this is similar to him is because it’s the same thing I’d get on my birthday.

But this year is different. This is the first birthday for him that’s come up that he won’t be getting older. The next few weeks are going to be tough for all of these “firsts” without him.

When Dad died back in January, to say it was a shock would be an understatement of huge proportions. And to have it happen just a few hours separate from the passing of his mom, my grandma, left an open wound for the whole family. It’s been ten months of healing, but I have no question that wound is about to open wide again.

This is the second time I’ve lost a father. My step-dad passed away in 1996, and even to this day there’s still a gap in my life. But while that will never go away, two decades has a way of easing the pain and promoting the good memories instead. But that time hasn’t passed yet, and so I’m just putting some thoughts out there.

After the divorce, Dad and I weren’t that close. I’ve posted about it before, but it’s just a matter of reality. We moved four hours away, and at that age, it’s tough to form a close bond with someone you see a total of maybe two months out of the year, spread out over four or five visits. There have been many times I’ve been envious of my sister Lori and her family, and my step-sister and -brother Michelle and Steve and their families because they got to know Dad is ways I never did, and never will. Their kids got to grow up with their grandpa, while mine met him twice. I don’t bregrude a single second of that time for them. That’s the way life happens, and it wasn’t “against” me, it’s simply the way things worked out. But that doesn’t stop me from thinking about “what if…?”

Today would have been his 65^th birthday. I have no doubt there would have been a bit of a to-do, especially with it being on a Saturday. Cake and ice cream, lots of laughter. But that’s not what this year will have in store.

I guess I’m just writing this as a little bit of personal therapy. In the weeks to come there will be thanks given among the tears, and gifts under trees that won’t shine quite as bright because of his absence, and that of Grandma.

I’ll just leave this a open letter to all my family – to Lori, and ‘Chelle, Stevie, and my step-mom, Sheila. To all my aunts and uncles, and all the (countless!) cousins. Whether you knew him as Dad, uncle, brother, grandpa, it doesn’t matter. The absence is real, and I know it affects us all.

Praying for Success

In the mid-80s, the glam-band heyday was in full swing. Bands like Mötley Crüe and Bon Jovi were setting the world on fire, filling arenas and flooding the airwaves of MTV. In the middle of all of that came a surprising upstart that shifted perceptions in the music world. “To Hell With The Devil” was released in 1986 and struck gold – then platinum!

The third album from Christian hard rock band Stryper was the first album by any Christian rock band to reach platinum, and held on to the title of best-selling album in that genre for fifteen years. Stryper would find massive success with the broader audiences with their videos for the album playing alongside the likes of Poison, Def Leppard Warrant, Great White, and Tesla – the dominant forces of music in the 80s and 90s.

Stryper at the Limelight Eventplex in Peoria, Nov 4th 2016

Now, thirty years after that groundbreaking release, Stryper is taking the “THWTD” show back on the road. With the original band members wearing the traditional black and yellow and playing the album in its entirety, the 30^th Anniversary tour dropped into the Limelight Eventplex in Peoria on November 4^th. 

Michael Sweet

Even after all this time, this band is a tight unit. Michael Sweet still brings the crowd to a cheering roar with every note. He doesn’t sound exactly the same as he did when the bad was at their MTV-era peak, but in all honesty, that’s not a complaint. He doesn’t sound the same because his voice and skill have continued to mature. His guitar playing is also immaculate, sharing duties with Oz Fox and contributing one half of a two-axe attack that just sounds incredible.

Robert Sweet

Carrying on his standard form of sitting sideways, Robert Sweet drives every song. He plays like a madman, and plays to the crowd like the veteran he is. And with the way he sits, the audience can see just how much effort it is to work behind the tubs.

Oz Fox

Shredding the six-strings in true 80s hair-metal fashion is Oz Fox, and he hasn’t dropped a single note. He still fills the songs with the screaming sound that you would want to hear, and his stage presence is hugely entertaining. As mentioned, Fox and Sweet don’t have a traditional lead and rhythm relationship. They trade back and forth, and the bring a duality to solos that brings to mind the heyday of KISS, with Stanley and Frehley harmonizing with their six-strings.

Timothy Gaines

Timothy Gaines works right along with Robert to make up the rhythm section. His bass still thunders, and his backing vocals blend into a great harmony with both Sweet and Fox. It’s not hard to imagine how different the band might sound with someone else in his spot – it’s happened in the past – but this is the line-up the band should have.

As Michael Sweet stated, some of the songs from “To Hell With The Devil” haven’t been played since that time thirty years ago. But I would challenge anyone to pick them out of the crowd. Songs like “Holding On” and “Rockin’ The World” sound as slick and practiced as “Calling On You” and “Free.” The set list is a touch awkward, because they open with the entire album, in album order. This isn’t always the best flow for live shows, but they make it work, and the nostalgia factor is cranked to eleven.

Michael Sweet

After the album portion of the show, and following a quick costume change which found frontman Sweet sporting a crowd-please Cubs jersey, the band switched up to a more standard set. Newer numbers like “Yahweh” joined classics from other albums like “Soldiers Under Command” and “In God We Trust.” They also pulled a pair of covers – “Shout it Out Loud” and the apropos “Heaven and Hell” – to fill out the set of ten songs on top of the ten from “To Hell With The Devil”. 

While the venue – Limelight Eventplex in Peoria – is a fair difference from the arenas the band was playing three decades past, the place was packed with screaming, singing-along fans clamoring for the picks and Bibles tossed from the stage. It’s a fantastic facility the likes of which would be welcome down here in the Gem City, and they know how to present a true headlining show.

Oz Fox

Nearly thirty-three years after they started, and thirty years after they broke through as a major force, Stryper hasn’t pulled any punches. They wear their faith proudly, not as a gimmick, and while they’re happy to share their views, they’re never preachy about it. Whether that’s your thing or not, it doesn’t matter. Lyrics raising praise to the heavens or conjuring darker imagery are both tools of the trade, and neither of them matter if the music isn’t solid. Stryper’s songs bring the former, but they’re rooted in a solid foundation of hard, heavy rock music.

Every word of praise, every accolade laid at the feet of this band is well-earned. While other bands come and go as flashes in the pan, Stryper has proven that their faith and their talents are still relevant and still hold that stage with grace and humility. It’s been a 30+ year ride, and these guys don’t show any signs of hitting the brakes.

Michael Sweet

*note: more photos from the show can be found at http://www.badwolfmedia.net/facebook

What's it worth to ya?

Whoever said a picture is worth a thousand words didn't know what they were talking about.

I've been working on photos from this weekend, and I shared the one below with a friend. It's a picture of him with his little girl, and she looks so incredibly happy, and her dad, looking at her...you can tell without a doubt she's the apple of his eye. How do you put something like that into words? I know my words - what you're reading right now - don't really convey it properly.

I take a lot of picture. Good LORD do I take a lot of pictures! But very rarely do they mean something. Every one of them tells a story, certainly - I can look at them and tell you a lot about when and where they were taken, what I was doing, etc. I shoot a fair number of events - concerts, charity fundraisers, things like that. All of those pictures are important as they capture those moments that people like to look back on. But that's not the same as the photos having meaning.

When I shared the photo above, my hope was that he liked it, that's all. He told me that he felt it's his favorite photo he's had with his daughter. Look at the pair of them, you can see she means the world to him, and even though she probably wouldn't be able to explain it, I guarantee she feels the same way about him.

It really moved me when he said that. It says that photo means something, it's not just a snapshot, or even a frozen moment in time. It means something to him, and hopefully someday to her. And that makes it mean something to me. And I can't tell you, as the guy behind the lens, how satisfying it is to hear that. All the thousands and thousands of other photos I've taken, every flower, every guitarist, every sunset, every cloud, is worth more to be because they led me to that one shot.

It also makes me a bit sad, as well. As I said in a post here a few months back, when I lost my dad it dawned on me that I never got a photo of him and my son. I don't have any pictures of my kid and his grandpa. When we visited, we spent time catching up, and that didn't seem that important. I had time, I'll get those shots later. And then the time is passed. The moment is gone, and won't ever be here again. I'm trying to not let it get to me, but it does. I wasn't terribly close with him, but he's still my dad, and my son's grandpa. And it's tough.

But I look at that picture, and I see that perfectly happy, innocent, carefree smile, and I can't help be be thrilled to have caught that moment. I didn't know I was catching it at the time - I honestly don't think too much about that stuff when I'm shooting. That's one of my joys of editing photos, finding the nuggets buried in a hundred other commonplace shots.

I'm glad I got this shot, and I'm glad it means so much to him. I don't think I've ever been paid as high a compliment as he gave me about it.

I'm glad it means something words can't say, no matter how many thousands.

Welcome to the pit...

There's a trope in comic books that goes something like this: When a new character joins a team, the cover features the heroes looking menacing. The tagline is a variation on the theme of "Hey, new guy! Welcome to the team! Hope you survive the experience!"

This past week, I had a real dream-come-true moment. I got a message that I was going to get to shoot photos for a show on an international tour. Just in general, this would have been amazing enough. But the icing, the cherry, and the extra piece of cake on top of that cake was that the show was for Iron Maiden. I mean, they've simply been one of my favorite bands for twenty or thirty years. No big deal, right?

Right.

So, in an effort to not look like the complete amateur I am, I started digging. I was looking at tips, advice, and stories from concert photographers. And that's when I learned about the pit.

See, the pit in this case refers to the fairly narrow space between the stage and the maniac fans pressed right up to the barrier. This small space is where security stands, technicians for the tour move through, video guys are shooting for the live big screen. And this is where the photographers stand to get the shots you see from concerts.

Typically, photographers have access for the first three songs of the set. Then they get out of the way and let those front-row maniacs enjoy the show without distraction. What that means, though, is you have all these guys and gals swinging cameras, lenses, and themselves all over the place trying to get "the shot" in around 12 minutes (give or take, with 4-minute songs). Everyone wants "the shot" and everyone's trying to use the same two-foot-square piece of real estate to get that perfect position. As I read more on the etiquette, I was educated on how to get around other photogs, how to get my shot and get the hell out of the way so others can get theirs. All the things that make working in that small space bearable.

So, with this knowledge in hand, that old comic book trope started running through my head. I had, essentially 24-hours notice to make sure my gear was ready, to arrange a place to stay (God bless understanding family!), and to get myself to Chicago (about 5 hours) in time to take my place. And through all of this, all I kept thinking was "Welcome to the pit, Mike! Hope you survive the experience!"

I got to the venue - the Madhouse on Madison, the United Center in Chicago - way to early, because I'd been anticipating worse traffic. I was so early, when I pulled into the parking lot, the lot technically wasn't even open yet. I had to check in at will-call and contact the PR rep on site to get things arranged, but I couldn't leave my car. Getting towed that far from home  - and while broke as all get-out! - would have been very, very bad. So I called the venue to see if they could put me in touch with the PR rep I needed to reach. No luck. I was so early, the tour people weren't even there yet.

So I waited. I cleaned my lenses one more time. And then waited some more. Finally the lot "opened" and I talked to one of the parking guys. Yes, I was in the right spot, but no, parking wasn't free. So I paid the man for the little piece of cardboard that said "you're good, your car will still be here when you get back!", and I set off to find my ticket.

That part was easy. The will-call windows were moving fast, and after I handed over my ID, they handed it back with my ticket in about thirty seconds. Fast and efficient, now I just had to wait (again) for the PR rep to check my paperwork and give me my photo pass. And that's when it got really real.

This is also when I met my fellow pit-dwellers for the night. Just from listening to them talk, these were all old hands at that job. "Were you in Detroit last night?" "No, I was going to, but they had me go to Cleveland instead..." They knew each other, and they were talking about how other folks they knew in common had been shut out of this show. That was daunting - folks with experience doing this stuff were told no, and here I was with a decal that let me go places I have dreamed about. Why? What made the PR guy pick me? I have no idea, and I'm not going to ask (because something about gift horses and such).

I want to say, I'm proud of my photo work. I think I'm decent, and I'm not of the opinion that I didn't belong there. I have a healthy enough ego to think that I'm good enough, or I wouldn't be there, plain and simple. But I'm also a realist. These folks, who were nice as could be, inviting and welcoming into their club, were pros. They had me outclassed in experience, and had me outgunned in equipment. At that moment in time, though - 7:30pm Central Daylight Time, in Chicago, IL - it didn't matter. As we all checked gear one last time, mounted lenses to bodies, got earplugs ready, I was one of them. I took a breath, and then we were off.

Down a flight of stairs and we were in a white hallway. Dayglow-green signs were posted on doors: "Band room," "Rod's Room*," all these places set aside where, behind closed doors, were the guys I'd listened to for most of my life. And I was here, under the seats, with them. And those doors at the end of the hall opened and we were led out onto the arena floor. Past the crowds in the seats, and the cattle-call of people in general admission. This was the opening act, so there were only four photographers. We all found a comfortable place in the pit to start the night. I heard someone in the crowd behind me say "you know it's about to start when they bring these guys out!"

Holy crap! That was me he was talking about! I was his indicator that the show was coming. That was at the time, and still is, two days later, bizarre for me to think about.

After we got the first songs committed to film (or digital media, actually), we were led back through the hall to the holding area to wait for the headliner. Then the process was repeated - down the white halls, through the doors, only this time, the place was packed. Just absolutely stuffed to the gills with people. Unlike the opening act, this time we were stopped by a representative of the band. A very kind, polite young British woman explained that the show would open with a blast of pyrotechnics, and that it would be very hot and bright, so be ready. Boy, was she ever not kidding! Those controlled bursts of flame are HOT! But it didn't matter. I was there. This time, the pit was more crowded, with two more photographers, the video guys, security, band staff, etc. But it wasn't at all like I'd read about. There was no real bumping, no one in each others' way. It was the epitome of professional courtesy.

Maybe this was an unusual occurrence because they had been so stingy with the photo passes. But, for me, it was a dream come true. I was in the pit.

And I survived the experience.

See my review and photos at The Herald-Whig.



*for those who don't know, Rod Smallwood is Iron Maiden's manager. He's a legend for running a tight ship and keeping absolute control over the access on tours. I didn't see him, but even seeing his name on the door mean I was "there."