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The Fillmore follies

The dream goes like this: Start a band and sign a record contract. Your record comes out and it's met with a quite a bit of enthusiasm, garnering positive reviews in major national and regional publications.

You get a van and go on tour and the press onslaught really gets intense. Everyone wants to talk to your group--because in a world full of clone bands, yours is different and new and exciting. You find yourself rapping with Spin and Rolling Stone magazines. This portion of the tour ends, and you find time to appear in a Hollywood movie, hang with one of the biggest names in rock 'n' roll, and headline the most famous club in the world, before leaving for the European dates.

That's the dream. But very few get to enjoy it. That's why it's a dream. But it's not a dream for the Donnas. For this Palo Alto foursome, it's a reality, though, admittedly, a slightly absurd one.

Was it just March of 1997, when the girls were still seniors at Palo Alto High School, that the Palo Alto Weekly ran the story about this little, local band with the schizophrenic edge? Back then, these same four teens focused most of their attention on the Electrocutes, the quartet's harder-edged alter-ego, and even downplayed the significance of the much more accessible Donnas.

"The Donnas aren't going to be together for that much longer," guitarist Allison Robertson said at the time. "But the Electrocutes have bigger and better plans and we all know it."

What we know now is that the Electrocutes haven't been heard from in quite some time. In contrast, it's almost impossible to thumb through a stack of music or teen mags and not find a few Donnas articles, as their clip file swells to a size incongruous with their young age.

Yes, the Donnas are living the rock 'n' roll fantasy. And for one day and one night, as they prepare for and play the biggest gig of their career, you are invited to share the fantasy. Get in the Volvo station wagon, excuse the drum set, and get ready for a trip to the famed Fillmore Auditorium in San Francisco.

1:45 p.m. Saturday, May 16, Robertson's house, Palo Alto

Robertson answers the front door and she is bubbling and ready to get in motion. But first things first, there is a tour of her bedroom, which is wallpapered with posters of the rock band Kiss. She's a huge fan of the band, and I achieve immediate credibility by telling Robertson and her best friend and Donnas bassist, Maya Ford, about the time when I saw the band--in its original lineup and wearing complete make-up--perform at the Cow Palace in the early '80s.

"Cool," went the responses of the two young women, who probably hadn't been potty-trained by the time of that Kiss concert.

Robertson, 18, and Ford, 19--better known as Donna R. and Donna F., respectively--climb into Ford's Honda Accord and cross Palo Alto to get to the house of 19-year-old drummer Torry Castellano (Donna C.). It's loading time and, lacking a van, the Donnas' equipment is fit snugly into the Castellano family Volvo station wagon and the Honda. Having played together since eighth grade, when the rookies joined forces to play a middle school band fest at Jordan, these woman are now pros at loading and lugging equipment from the years of playing at clubs around the Bay Area. The bass amp slides perfectly into the truck of the Honda, while the big Marshall amp goes into the back seat.

Castellano has to go pick up the fourth and final Donna--18-year-old vocalist Brett Anderson, a.k.a. Donna A. (you gettin' the hang of this, now?)--and the course is set for the Fillmore. Riding through Palo Alto, Ford driving fluidly and Robertson talking a mile a minute, the duo seem anything but nervous. The conversation ranges from cinnamon muffins (they really love to eat); to their decision not to wear their signature T-shirts with their names scrawled across their chests tonight ("They're not lame," Robertson says. "But it's kind of weird when everyone expects them."); to the Spice Girls (Robertson bought one store's entire stock of Spice Girls pops); and, of course, Kiss.

Although you would never guess it from their appearances, Kiss drooling blood and spitting fire and the Donnas looking like rock 'n' roll Barbies in their matching T-shirts, it's hard to overstate the influence that Kiss has on the Donnas. Like Kiss, the Donnas keep things simple and put the emphasis on immediacy, accessibility and fun. The lyrics like "Rock 'n' roll machine/I'm an American teenage raider/You better be in by 11 o'clock/But I never come in till later" don't boggle the mind, but they are easy to sing along with and fit nicely next to Kiss lines such as "I want to rock 'n' roll all night and party every day." As Spin Magazine put it: "Their manifesto: curfew + classes = bad; action + boys = good."

"I think people are interested in us because there is nobody else like us out there," Robertson explained about the band's sudden surge in popularity. "The point of our band is for people to have fun. That's what we care about. We just do what we want from other bands. A lot of people just don't understand that."

3:10 p.m. Saturday, May 16, the Fillmore Auditorium, San Francisco

The Donnas may be rock 'n' roll stars on the rise, but they are also teenage girls. And what is a favorite pastime of teenage girls? Talking trash about others. We aren't talking about real mean-spirited comments, in fact, at the risk of ruining the Donnas' bad-girl image, one would have to admit that these four girls from Palo Alto are downright sweet. Still, they can send out a soft zinger or two.

In the safety of their car, driving north on U.S. 101, Robertson and Ford playfully zing Castellano and Anderson about how the drummer and vocalist are always late and will likely to be late to the Fillmore, as well. And so it's hard to stifle a giggle at the guitarist and bassist's dismay when they see that the Volvo has beaten the Honda to the Fillmore.

This one minor catty incident appears to be an exception. It is amazing how well these four teens get along, even more amazing that they have managed to stay together through all the years, not only surviving, but thriving. Think about how many friends you still hang with from eighth grade and decide for yourself how amazing it is that the Donnas haven't exploded by now.

"Shows suck if you are mad at someone, so you just don't get mad," said Anderson, reciting one of the Donnas' unofficial credos.

There have been a lot of shows lately. After signing a deal with the prestigious Lookout! Records (the label that first brought us Green Day), the Donnas--who had all graduated from Palo Alto High School and were attending college--decided that they wanted to take their show on the road. So they took leaves from New York University (Castellano), U.C. Berkeley (Anderson) and U.C. Santa Cruz (Robertson and Ford), got in a van that the label rented for them and went on a six-week tour all over America in support of the Groovie Ghoulies.

It's a good thing that they get along since this was a cramped-quarters, no-frills tour where all four members of the band piled into just one hotel room each night. The rides from city to city, and from club to club, could be as long as 15 hours. But the Led Zeppelin-style, bandmate scuffles didn't happen, Anderson says, because each of the young women are responsible and uphold their part of the Donnas deal and the rock responsibilities. There was no wondering where the lead vocalist or drummer or bassist or guitarist was and finding out that they were late to a gig because they were off shagging with a groupie. In fact, Robertson, says there is no groupie shagging at all.

"No," she says with certainty, "because the groupies we have are either too old, too young, or we're not into them."

"And we're just not like that," Anderson adds for emphasis.

There are definitely Donnas groupies, a few extreme folks who really are into the band, but most folks can just be classified as simple fans. These are the people who have helped the Donnas sell 15,000 copies of their debut CD, "American Teenage Rock 'N' Roll Machine," an impressive number for an independent released just a few months backs. And these are the people who will fill the Fillmore Auditorium later that night when the Donnas perform the biggest show of their careers.

But right now, the place is empty except for a few tech guys running around readying the famed hall. The Donnas are on the stage doing a soundcheck, and it's amazing to watch them instantly change from four giggly Spice Girls fans into the "American Teenage Rock 'N' Roll Machine." They go through "Checkin' It Out," "Leather On Leather," a wonderful cover of AC/DC's "Shot Down In Flames," dealing with slight sonic difficulties--not enough vocals, too much vocals, need more guitar in this monitor--before finding the right mix on "You Make Me Hot."

With that taken care of, the Donnas amble upstairs to see the headlining dressing room. The psychedelic posters hanging on the walls, the very signature of what it means to plays the Fillmore, advertise shows of a different era with Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin and John Mayall. The Donnas were impressed with the Fillmore but it wasn't due to the fact that the Grateful Dead once partied in the very same room where they stood.

"We have our own bathroom," Castellano exclaimed with true Donnas exuberance.

"Yeah, it's big," Robertson said.

"I am so into it," Castellano said.

After the novelty of the bathroom wears off, things start to calm down a bit. There is a lot of time to kill, that's what touring is all about--killing time--some musicians will tell you. The band arrived at the Fillmore just after 3 p.m. and with three other bands on the bill, the Donnas won't take the stage until almost midnight. In the meantime, the band tries to keep itself busy, notably with taping a Webcast interview with the Fillmore folks.

Soundchecking is Storm and Her Dirty Mouth, a popular San Francisco-based band led by Storm, the fiery lead singer who is known as much as a looker as a singer. Standing on the stage in tight, stretch pants and a simple sweatshirt, Storm goes for the blues rock thing, a la Janis Joplin. She's good. And she knows it. Ford watches Storm perform and then heads back into the dressing room with the rest of the Donnas. The bassist has one comment:

"You can see her panty line."

5:40 p.m. Saturday, May 16, Maruwa Japanese Supermarket, San Francisco

The Donnas love Japanese culture. They love it almost as much as they love Kiss. Last year, while still seniors at Paly, the Donnas took an early spring break and went on a short concert tour of the land of the rising sun. They are still buzzing about the experience.

So, it's no wonder that the foursome is more than a bit stoked about being so close to Japantown. It's time to shop and it's time to eat. On the way down the back stairs at the Fillmore, they spot their good buddy Darin Raffaelli, a person who has played such an integral role in the Donnas growth that you could justifiably refer to him as the Fifth Donna or, perhaps, Donna R. With Raffaelli in tow, the Donnas entourage is off to check out the Maruwa Japanese Supermarket.

Raffaelli first saw the-band-that-would-become-the-Donnas when the Electrocutes (formerly known as Ragady Anne) played with an act that he helped to put out records.

"You could tell they had something even back then," Raffaelli said as he perused the plum wine selection.

He would produce three singles and one full-length recording with the band before they got signed to Lookout! He still writes songs for the Donnas--but now it's much more of a collaborative effort with the foursome. The band is self-managed, with each of the four women taking turns handling business and press chores, but Raffaelli is a constant. He went with them to Japan and on the entire six-week van trip through the States, and he will accompany the Donnas on the month-long European tour that begins next week.

But the multi-country tour seems a long ways off now as the fab four load up their shopping carts with odd trinkets and exotic candies. Candy is passed back and forth with much excitement. "American Teenage Rock 'N' Roll Machine" may have some drug references and a heavy party mood, yet it seems that sugar is the drug of choice for the Donnas. Food, in general, is way up on the list. After leaving Maruwa, the group heads up the street toward On the Bridge, a Japanese restaurant that specializes in curry dishes and spaghetti. They look at menus and the tension mounts.

"Pizza toast sounds delicious," Robertson exclaims.

7:30 p.m. Saturday, May 16, Fillmore Auditorium, San Francisco

There are still hours to kill before the band is to take the stage, and the young ladies are looking for distractions in their backstage dressing room. They try on and make fun of the different jeans and shirts provided to the band by Levi's, a Fillmore sponsor. The conversation ranges from Gatorade to pillows to balding to, of course, Kiss.

They've been phenomenally cool up to this point, displaying no real signs of nervousness. One wonders if the Donnas are old enough to really appreciate what it means to headline the Fillmore? Are they are old enough to appreciate what it means to be on the same stage that once held Jerry Garcia's mighty weight and Jimi Hendrix's greatness?

"I saw Blur here and that was really good," Robertson remembered.

"And I saw Supergrass here but that show sucked," Ford chimed in.

The Donnas can't escape their youth, and it is a constant focal point in the interviews and stories. People see the band's age as a gimmick and wonder how the band's "party-whenever-I-can" exuberance will play out when the band reaches the ripe old age of, oh, say 25 or 26. The band admits that the lyrics aren't very deep.

"They are real no-brainer lyrics," Anderson said. "They are just so people can hear the lyrics and memorize them after one listen and sing along with them."

And the lyrics are also true to what the girls know--school, friends, radio, going steady, etc. These are, after all, recent high school grads. There is a definite defiance in lyrics like "I don't care about going to school/And I don't care about having friends/And I don't care because I'm a rock 'n' roll machine" that can be attributed to their self-proclaimed outsider status at Palo Alto High School.

"The nerds didn't like me. The popular people didn't like me," Robertson remembers. "So who do I hang around with? Maya."

But the nerds and the popular people aren't living the rock 'n' roll fantasy. One of the most surreal moments that the women have experienced is when they were asked to do a concert segment for the film "Jawbreaker." They were flown down to La-La land, got their own trailer, and worked with mean make-up people ("They were making fun of us and telling us we had pimples," Robertson remembered.)

After bopping around the trailer to their Alice Cooper tape, they heard a knock on the door. It was Marilyn Manson, one of the biggest rock stars on the planet and the boyfriend of "Jawbreaker" star Rose McGowan. They seemed to like Manson, who pulled out his copy of the Donnas CD and asked the girls to sign it. On the other hand, Manson's movie star girlfriend didn't fare so well.

"Then Rose McGowan (spoke) and she was retarded and she didn't make any sense," Ford remembered.

11:40 p.m. Saturday, May 16, Fillmore Auditorium, San Francisco

Three bands up, three bands down. It's the Donnas turn and the band is now looking pretty nervous.

"Oh my God, I feel like I'm going to die," Anderson says.

"I don't feel good," Robertson says.

"I'm severely depressed, like suicidal," Anderson says.

"Ten minutes," a voice cries from behind the door.

Robertson thinks she is going to puke.

But then the Donnas take the stage in a very business-like fashion, get the instruments and get ready. If they are nervous now, it doesn't look that way. They launch into "Shake in the Action" and the crowd goes wild.

The Donnas draw a strong male following, but tonight there are a lot of women in attendance. Still, the front is boy territory, it seems, as the mosh pit gets intense and the guys raise their devil fists into the air in support of the band.

The music continues, each song as hard as the last--simple, two-minute blasts of adrenaline. Robertson commands attention with her forceful, heavy-metal leads on the guitar. Ford keeps things steady with her bass, and Anderson effectively uses the fine stage presence that she has developed in just over one year. Castellano is a fireball, pounding out manic beats, and at times seems to be just a huge haze of hair as she flips her long locks about. People would still be talking about Castellano's performance days later.

About 45 minutes later, after playing just under 20 songs (three of which came as an encore), the Donnas leave the stage. They are exhausted. Castellano especially looks wiped out, like she just ran a marathon. But they are happy, content and can check this milestone off their list.

"I didn't puke," Robertson says in relief.

"I'm not depressed anymore, I can say that," Anderson adds.

1 a.m. Sunday, May 17, outside the Fillmore

The foursome has packed up their bags, their new jeans and their memories and are talking to some friends outside the Fillmore Auditorium. It's chilly but the ladies don't seem to mind.

Ford has gone to collect their pay from the Fillmore folks. It's $700 for tonight's work, which is pretty good. It's not about money at this point for the Donnas. All the press and attention that they have attracted hasn't translated to riches--yet. They all live at home still, and a good deal of the money they make goes straight to the record company to pay for expenses.

What it's about is rock 'n' rolling. And they certainly accomplished that this night in a style that would make their heroes--Kiss, Motley Crue, etc.--very proud. Being on the stage is still cooler than being in Rolling Stone magazine.

"I prefer shows over the press," Robertson says. "The reason why I'm in the band is because I like to play the guitar, not because I want to be in magazines."

What would be really cool right now would be a couple of chauffeurs. But that's not in cards--yet. Still, Castellano is wiped out and is glad that Anderson will drive the Volvo back to Palo Alto. We leave before Robertson and Ford, who were still talking to some friends.

Staying in character, the conversation doesn't go anywhere near what it means to have now played the Fillmore. It takes some prodding before either woman will really say anything.

"The crowd was bigger. The stage was bigger. The place was bigger," Castellano said, comparing the Fillmore to other venues where the band has performed.

Anderson is feeling playful now and adds with more than a touch of sarcasm:

"Nostalgia was running thick like syrup."

2:30 a.m., Sunday, May 17, Palo Alto

Castellano has dropped the vocalist off for the night and is now heading home. It's been a long day and evening, the band has more photo shoots scheduled for the week, and on Tuesday they leave for a high-profile gig in New York. Then it's back home and off for a month in Europe.

She'll deal with that later. Right now, she's got to unload her drums. But even that doesn't bother her as she pulls the Volvo into her parents' driveway.

"Home," the little drummer whispers. "Home at last. Yeah."

Questions, comments, problems, whatever should be directed to
Jon Michaels, jmichaels@pacificnet.net