Becca, the drummer, is 5’ 8”, blonde, a teenage dream, the kind of girl you’d expect to see behind the kit in Kelly Osbourne’s band. Compared to some of the other kids here – like the all-girl Waltham band the Andwutz, peeking from behind curtains of straight brown hair and impressive slashes of eyeliner – Becca and Alexa look fresh out of the box . . . with the possible exception of their large, studded belts. And yet soon Alexa is pointing at Karen, the Andwutz’ lead singer, and whispering to Becca, “She has the same black nail polish I do!” Karen sees the whispering and goes over to Alexa. “Frank was my vocal coach too!,” she says, and with the ice broken, the girls end up chatting about their respective musical careers, which couldn’t be further apart: the Andwutz admit they started as a joke, and they can barely play their instruments, but they have a shitload of fun. Alexa and Becca say they should’ve made an all-girl band.
On this night, Frank Pino has called up every band in Waltham to give Fair Fight a crash course in how to build a rock community. It’s a scene out of any weeknight at any rehearsal room in America – after a spin through their song “Teenage Calamity” (Alexa: “Thank you for your betrayal and lies!”), the band joins assembled tough-guy Walthamites in goofing off on Slayer and Van Halen covers. Kevin, who left his sax in New Hampshire, freestyles on the mic as Jordan plays the “Another One Bites The Dust” bassline, tossing off a one-liner in the direction of the ever-present Made producer: “I hate you Josh, I hate you and everything you stand for, get out of my life.” Alexa and one of the Andwutz girls duet on “Summer Nights,” with Alexa taking John Travolta’s lines until it falls apart into a sloppy “Rapper’s Delight.” Outside of the space, Frank Pino is jumpy and enthusiastic, smoking a cigarette in the parking lot. This, he says proudly, is what rock and roll is all about.
Style and substance
Sandy Poirer is a tattooed dude with a cowboy hat and elaborate facial hair. Standing in his hip South Boston salon Shag, he’s staring intently at Alexa, who has arrived for a tradition Made makeover segment with Josh and Becca in tow. The time has come to say goodbye to the New Hampshire mall chick look. Taking one look at Becca’s pageant hair, Poirer advises her to “throw away the curling iron and hot rollers.”
“Debbie Harry on the cover of Autoamerican,” he says, outlining his look for the drummer: a layer of black underneath white-blond, then feathering it. Meanwhile, Alexa is going from brown to a cranberry, Lindsay Lohan red (“mahogany plum”), and a long, piecey, angled cut to go with it.
“How do you feel?” Josh asks Alexa. “Part of your goal was to stand out and not blend in.”
“I was hoping it’d be a huge transformation,” says Alexa. “It’s bold and it’s red. It’s so hot. On stage Thursday I’ll be like, ‘Yes. I am a rocker.’”
Frank’s Suicide Girl-looking friends Jamie and Jen show up to assist the girls as “personal shoppers,” squiring them off to Harvard Square’s Hootenanny, the kind of trendy rock-chic boutique that Hot Topic was designed to franchise in the ’burbs. Rock and roll style, Alexa says Frank taught her, is “all about the bandana, Chuck Taylors, ripped jeans.” There are rules to be followed. “You always have to wear a studded belt. I wear mine. Frank said it’s about being able to wear your heart on your sleeve.”
By the time Frank shows up at Hootenanny, the girls are hyperventilating over Vans and fishnet finger gloves. Josh is sprinting through the store, camera rolling, trying to catch all the Ohmigodcheckthisouts. “This is not acting,” Alexa says. “This is girls being excited about shopping.”
Five outfits, a few Charlie’s Angels poses, and one noogie later, Alexa has her approved stage garb: a back t-shirt with a skull on it and a camouflage skirt. “You’re wearing fatigues, you’re going into battle,” says Frank, approvingly. “There’s attitude there, but with a little bit of bite.”
Our band could be your life
Two days later, Bow High School’s Battle Of The Bands is completely sold out, with the 600 seats auditorium filled. There’s a sign on the entryway saying “by entering the premises, you are legally agreeing to let MTV show your face on TV.” Parents and teenagers are loudly and self-consciously running around, while Josh and his camera are following around Alexa’s bad-ass cheering section: her gymnastics coach and a gaggle of Harley Davidson workers in leather.
