Charlotte Observer January 13, 2001

Teen band climbs stairway to stardom
L.A. showcase gives Charlotte's justincase its first step - a record contract
By Pop Music Writer TONYA JAMESON | Staff Photos by GAYLE SHOMER

LOS ANGELES -- Behind the floor-length curtains, three Charlotte teens fiddled with their instruments.

In seconds, the velvety maroon barrier would disappear, exposing the band, justincase, to 20 pairs of crucial ears - record executives from top labels in the country.

The industry representatives sipped drinks inside the famed Viper Room, waiting to hear if justincase had rock star potential. To them, the club was simply another place to hear an aspiring band.

For justincase - Justin, Nick and Hannah Tosco - it was the gateway to a dream. The teens have spent their grade-school years trekking from gig to gig, honing their pop-rock sound in pursuit of a major record label contract.

They hoped their show at the dimly lit Viper Room, with its cherrywood floors and rich musical history, would take them a step closer to their goal. After all, few Charlotte bands have made it to the Johnny Depp-owned club that's hosted Counting Crows, Oasis and the Wallflowers - the same club where actor River Phoenix partied before dying outside of a drug overdose in 1993.
The curtains parted.

The teens stepped to the front of the half-moon stage. They didn't need the bright spotlight; they already looked like stars with Justin's rumpled blond hair, Hannah's black leather pants and Nick's retro long-sleeved shirt.

Justin raked his pick across the guitar strings and tossed his head forward. Nick's drums thundered the opening to "Any Day Now." Hannah swaggered like a hardcore rock chick, dancing in place as she fingered her bass.

Trouble. The band's sound was off - missing the deep, playful funk from Hannah's instrument. She kept playing, but her bass hardly made a sound.
Not again.

A month earlier, in Columbia, Hannah had tripped over the cord. In Atlanta, she danced so hard she yanked it out the socket. Now, in the most important show of their lives, the cord wasn't working at all.
Not again. Not now.

The bandleader

The Toscos are an average family with lofty dreams. The kids grew up playing instruments; their dad, John, brought them violins, guitars and clarinets from pawnshops. Justin, 18, gravitated to guitar like his dad. Nick, 16, graduated from pots and pans to drums. Hannah, 15, played piano, flute and bass.

John Tosco has been a fixture on the Charlotte music scene for nearly two decades with his Tosco Music Parties and guitar lessons. His wife, Holly, is a Montessori schoolteacher. Both grew up playing music. They figured their kids would join the high school band.

Instead, the Tosco teens created justincase four years ago, when Justin was in eighth grade. The group started small, playing free community benefits, but eventually moved up to club gigs paying more than $100 a show and local festivals for $500 or more. They chose the name justincase - with a lowercase "J" so fans wouldn't think it was Justin's band.

But as bandleader, primary songwriter and oldest child, Justin felt most responsible for the band's success. He was used to pressure. At Vance High School, he was a key player on JV soccer and basketball teams. Leading a band in concert, though, was bigger than any game he'd ever played.

"I just want the opportunity to put our music out there," he said, "so it's available to tons of people to like or not."

That goal, he knows, has a price. The Toscos aren't rich. Their modest one-story house off Sharon Amity Road shows the rigors of three teens and two pony-sized dogs - cracked paint, chipped molding and a dilapidated fence better suited for firewood than privacy.

The biggest cost, however, has been childhoods altered by adult dreams. To devote time to the band, the teens gave up hanging out with friends every weekend and participating in school activities, such as basketball and drama.

"This is a family that's committing extraordinary resources," said their attorney, Ken Abdo of Minneapolis, who represents young blues guitarist Jonny Lang. "I'm not talking about financial resources, (but) spiritual resources. They really get the idea of the kind of sacrifices you make to make good music."

In June 2000, the Toscos saved enough money and headed to the EAT'M Music Conference for unsigned acts in Las Vegas. The conference gave them a chance to play for talent scouts who rarely visit Charlotte.

At EAT'M, the trio's energy and Justin's solid songwriting impressed industry representatives. But the kids weren't quite ready for a record contract, reps said. The band received similar reviews at the Atlantis Music Conference in Atlanta a few months later.

In August 2000, justincase played a private showcase in New York. Unlike at EAT'M and Atlantis, scouts were there specifically to hear justincase.
But the band heard the same "not-ready-yet" comments.

"That was a big chance for us and it didn't happen," Justin said. "It had been four years. We're young, but four years was a lot of work for us. That was like a wake-up call that you better start kicking yourself in the a-- if you want this."

Their next - and maybe last - shot would be a private showcase in Los Angeles in August 2001. Justin believed so strongly in the band that he deferred attending UNC Chapel Hill for a year to prepare for the Viper Room.

The Toscos had tried the South and the East Coast. Now, they were heading West.

Rock chicks

In Los Angeles, everything's cool. Lacy lingerie hung in drugstore windows along Hollywood Boulevard. Cross-dressing men brazenly carried purses. On Melrose Avenue, vintage-clothing shops hawked band T-shirts from AC/DC concerts played before Hannah was born.

Hannah videotaped the sights until her battery died. She wanted to capture every moment of a trip that could ultimately decide if she and her brothers would be signed. If not, Justin would go on to attend UNC, and she and Nick would continue classes at Vance High.

Justin and Nick can't imagine life without playing in a band, but Hannah can't imagine being in a band for the rest of her life. The 15-year-old, who can't wait to get her driver's license and have the freedom her oldest brother enjoys, plans to have a normal life with a husband and kids.

After leaving their bags at the Holiday Inn, Hannah and her family walked down the famed Sunset Boulevard toward the Roxy nightclub. They were going to see their friend Michelle Branch, whom they met at the EAT'M showcase a year earlier. Michelle later signed with Maverick Records, founded by Madonna. On this August night, the 18-year-old was opening for Better than Ezra at the Roxy.

Hannah admires the Arizona native, who fronts a rock band. The youngest Tosco has always wanted to sing but isn't comfortable in the spotlight. After shows, teen-age girls swoon over her brothers while grandmothers swarm Hannah.

On the way to the Roxy, the Toscos passed Hollywood landmarks, such as Whisky a Go Go, where the Doors made their name. Leather-clad motorcyclists occasionally roared down the boulevard. Mercedes, BMWs and Land Rovers lined parking meters.

At 7:30 p.m., the streets were alive with people. The Toscos expected outlandish outfits and dyed hair, but most passers-by wore cargo pants and other Gap-like clothes. The family walked briskly, but a huge poster on the side of Tower Records stopped them.

"Oh my God, there's Michelle," Holly said.

Plastered to the wall was a billboard-sized picture of Michelle's "Spirit Room" album cover. At EAT'M, Michelle was a fledgling act like justincase. Now here she was towering over the street in a black, leather jacket, her dark smoky eyes piercing the sky.

"She's like professional now, she's been on tour," said Hannah, who knows every word to Michelle's songs. "When I see her, it makes me feel insignificant."

The Viper Room

Inside Johnny Depp's Viper Room the next night, Nick stifled his disappointment as he adjusted his drums behind the curtains. He couldn't believe he'd busted his butt all summer to come to L.A. and play for only a handful of record executives.

He is the outspoken middle child of the Tosco family. For the past four years, he's fought hard to spend time with his friends and have a regular childhood. He'd given up high school football and play production to help justincase succeed. Instead of after-school activities, Nick would practice everyday with his siblings.

"The reason why I strive so hard, more than seeing our video on (MTV) or hearing our song on the radio, is stepping on stage with thousands of people cheering for you, wanting to hear your music. That's going to be the best moment of my life.

"All the other stuff is glitter, but when you know there's a bunch of people that like your music, that's just golden."

In the Viper Room this Wednesday night, he settled for 10 record executives. It was 9:30 p.m. and the club was empty. It felt more like justincase was an opening act, not potential stars.

Their attorney introduced them as a "bunch of talented young kids from Charlotte, North Carolina." Justin stepped to the mic, a confident young man.

They blasted into "Any Day Now," minus Hannah's funky bass-lines. Justin kept singing, while Hannah plugged and unplugged her faulty cord.

In a nearby booth, their mom sat frozen. She hoped that John, standing near the stage, could rescue his baby girl.

He didn't need to.

Justin introduced the next song, "Constellation." He casually mentioned Hannah was having problems with her bass. She pursed her lips. He stalled while she replaced her cord with one hanging nearby.

Six months ago, the technical problem would've ruined the teens' confidence. But not tonight. Their future depended on this gig.

The record execs didn't seem to care about the bass problem, but they didn't look impressed with the band. A few more trickled in midway through the half-hour set. They listened for a phrase, a hook or a melody that might make one of Justin's songs a potential hit.

Then justincase unleashed "Residue," a catchy song about persistence. As Justin sang, audience members stared at the band instead of their beers and mixed drinks.

"Wipe the residue before it's too late
Start your step again before you fall down.
Bear the load until you can bear down on the loaded.

The record guys started murmuring.

"What I, what I, what I wouldn't do, to wipe all your pain away.
What I, what I wouldn't do, to walk the road you've walked along."

The teens had the execs' attention. Heads bobbed, bodies swayed. Some talked among themselves; others approached the Toscos' attorney. The band finished with "The Key," but "Residue" echoed in the room.

The curtains closed.

Justin, Nick and Hannah rolled up cables and critiqued their set - Hannah's bass cord, Justin forgetting to tune his guitar before "Superstition." Their attorney stepped backstage and congratulated them on a good show.

Maverick Records may want a private showcase tomorrow, he added.

Silence.

Justin's hands shook. He could barely lay his guitar in its case. He didn't want to get his hopes up, but they had never gotten this far.

Waiting for the call

The next morning at 9 a.m., the Toscos met manager-attorney Chris Sabec in their hotel restaurant. He had been one of dozens of people who surrounded them outside the Viper Room after their set. The Toscos wanted to meet Sabec, who manages the brother-band Hanson, but they were more interested in their cell phone.

At 11 a.m., Michelle Branch's manager was supposed to call and confirm the private showcase. Unlike the previous night, only Maverick executives would attend. The teens would have three songs to prove themselves.

The Toscos listened to Sabec's spiel. The cell phone sat like a Bible in the middle of the tables. "Residue" had hit potential, Sabec told them. He saw justincase, like their friend Michelle, as the next phase of teen pop.

"You're in the right place at the right time," he said. "You guys are organic."

It was 10:55.

John told Justin to make sure the phone was on.

Sabec continued talking.

The phone rang and the room fell silent. Justin grabbed it, thrust the phone in the air like a trophy, then handed it to his dad.

John repeated the showcase details aloud - "5 p.m. today."

Everyone leapt from the table. John hugged Justin. Nick pumped his fist in the air.

"I know this may not be a big deal," he said. "But it's awesome."

The next step

Only 10 percent of signed acts survive past their first album. Out of the 8,000 yearly major releases, about 16 percent sell more than 500,000 records, meaning the record company breaks even.

At the private Maverick showcase, the Tosco teens poured their souls into three songs, hoping for a chance to beat the odds. Afterward, the four executives politely applauded and paired off, ignoring the teens. The Toscos quietly crowded into a booth.

"I thought the hardest moment was last night, then I thought it was today, but it's right now - waiting," said John.

The family would get used to waiting since that day last August. It took three months, but they signed with Maverick in November.

They're not celebrating yet.

They spent the holidays with family in Fayetteville and Durham. A couple of days after New Year's, Justin flew to Los Angeles to begin work on their Maverick album. Holly, Nick and Hannah joined him Saturday.

They'll record most of the songs in L.A., some in Minneapolis, and a few in Charlotte with producer Steven Haigler.

Justin, Nick and Hannah left Charlotte excited and confident.

"Getting signed doesn't mean it's paradise," Nick said.

But it's one step closer.