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Profile By Bob Andelman (Originally published in Tampa Bay Life, 1990) Higher education lasted less than two years, but Friss went on to a higher calling. He formed his first band, Force, and toured with it for six years from Michigan to Florida. He left the group in '81 and spent six months seeking work as a songwriter in New York before relocating to Orlando. The Bobby Friss Band was formed there in 1983, although all the faces save Friss's have changed through the years. As Real As It Gets In 1981, the Rolling Stones were the first rock 'n' roll band to have corporate sponsor -- Jovan. Since then, it's hard to find any act on the road that isn't shilling for some product or service. Paul McCartney does it for credit cards; Tina Turner does it for cars. So it wasn't too surprising that when Miller Beer was looking to make a long-term promotional investment in its Genuine Draft brand years ago, it searched the country for young musicians with bright futures who needed a leg up. For 10 years now, the brewery has provided promotions and music equipment for bands such as the Fabulous Thunderbirds, Del Fuegos, the Rainmakers and, since 1987, the Bobby Friss Band. "It's a validation of his talents that Miller would pick him up," says Bill Templeton, editor of Players magazine in St. Petersburg. "He's paid his dues here, always ranked as one of the top bands in town. When people see him, they know they're going to get the goods." "You play for eight or ten years without corporate sponsors and you know the daily grind of paying $4 for a guitar string," says Friss. "Then they come in and say we're going to give you strings, instruments, guitars, posters -- all these things that otherwise come out of my pocket. They step in and become big brother. There's no cash exchanged -- just equipment and promotion." The promotional boost is probably the best part. Each year, all 26 bands in the Miller Network attend a seminar on upcoming promotions, expectations, and public relations. They are skillfully taught how to talk to disc jockeys, reporters, club owners and fans. Then the Miller machine guides them from city to city with local advertising, parties, in-club posters, glossy pictures suitable for autographs and plenty of media contact. Friss has also recorded nationally broadcast radio commercials in which he sings the brew's jingle and is I.D.'ed as "Florida's Bobby Friss Band" at the end. Miller has been a dream come true for Friss's agent, Omni Talent vice president Rick Young. "He's very easy to book," according to Young. "He's popular in nearly every city in Florida. Miller's been very helpful with that. "I go to Louisville, Kentucky to do a one-nighter and the PR people at Miller have already set up interviews with two radio stations," marvels Friss. "They usually play a song or two off our record. Here I am, unsigned to a record company, getting airplay on a major station. "Advertising money talks," he adds, referring to the power of the beer company's enormous marketing budget and its potential to pull dollars from uncooperative media. Is there a downside for Friss? "If there is," he says, "I haven't seen it. At no point in the night do I hold up a beer and say, 'Let's have Miller Geunine Draft.' That's not what they want you to do. They want to be associated with you. (The audience) will figure if you're affiliated with it, it must be good. And if it wasn't a good beer, I wouldn't drink it." (Trivia: While in Michigan, Friss was a Stroh's drinker; prior to the Miller deal, he preferred Budweiser in Florida.) What does Miller get out of the connection? "We feel the Bobby Friss Band has a lot of potential," says spokesperson Mary Houlihan. "We want to help Bobby as much as we can. We think he's going places. Miller wants to take the burden off promoting their tours. If they're going to do six weeks of one-nighters, it takes their concentration off the music. We want them to do what they do best -- perform their music. "Miller is looking for a positive lifestyle association with these bands. They're looking for people to go out, have a good time listening to the bands and the want Miller Genuine Draft to be a part of that. We don't want them to be salesmen for the beer. One mention would be nice." "They're trying to promote their Miller Genuine Draft Beer," says Friss. "They're looking for men 18 to 35." Participating bands don't have to do much once they're chosen for the Miller program. They place a banner behind them that reads "Miller Presents ... " They are introduced on stage the same way. They are not asked or even encouraged to shill for beer, although if they drink on stage or in a club, the company prefers they be seen with Miller products.The Studio Drums make a variety of noises depending on how, where and how hard they are hit. Cymbals are even trickier. Friss is behind the sound board in Morrisound Studios' main recording studio, listening to drummer Leroy Myers bash the skins and cymbals. Neither is happy with the "crash" coming off the cymbals so they load up in Friss's band and head for Thoroughbred Music on Hillsborough Avenue. This rock 'n' roll supermarket is to musicians what Home Depot is to handymen and Workplace is to small business people: Mecca. The Friss party immediately gets sidetracked by amps, the guitar museum, friends and fellow players. "It's a sweetheart isn't it?" says Friss, caressing a '62 vintage Stratocaster guitar. "It's like Christmas everyday here." Morris, checking out amplifiers, says working with Friss in the studio is a unique experiencing. "He knows exactly what he wants," says the engineer. "He's one of the few self-produced artists who knows what he wants. He makes my job easier. He's businesslike, efficient. It's not a party. We get down to work and get results. He's a very directed guy. I imagine he's that way about the rest of his life. Planned out, doesn't leave a lot to chance." Eventually, the group catches up with Myers in the drum department and Friss narrates the play-by-play. "We're in the drum department," he begins. "This is the least interesting part of the place. It's guys who beat on plastic and metal for a living. They pretend it's music, but we know it's just noise. Drummer are just diddlers ... " Myers takes three cymbals at a time into a sound-proof room and Friss, Morris, Brett Wyatt and I make the mistake of following him in. Stick in hand, Myers bangs on each one numb to the Crash! in the rest of our ears. "They all sound the same to me," says Friss. "They're all different!" protests Myers as Friss laughs. Myers has lasted longer than any other player in the Friss band -- six years. They met as rivals in a Michigan "Battle of the Bands" competition in '79. Years later, Myers was vacationing in Florida when Friss called. Now, when the band hits the road, Friss and Myers are roommates. (Myers likes his hotel rooms freezing, Friss prefers moderate.)The Next Day Returning to Morrisound for the last time before the band hits the road for most of April, Friss is concerned about a ballad he has recorded, "Lonely One." "It's still got some holes in it," he complains to Jim Morris. "It's hard to believe we have as much as we do in there -- it's still empty. "It's good to have some holes," rebuffs Morris. One recurrent critical blast against Friss is his habit of putting to much sound on his recordings. He's not from the less is more school of thought. The Kids Christmas, 1985. Rock radio station WYNF and the old Mr. T's Club 19 sponsor a benefit concert for the Children's Home of Tampa -- a residential treatment center for abused and neglected kids -- featuring local bands and master of ceremonies Bobby Friss. They raised $5,000. For Friss, it was a major turning point: the star turn helps break him out of the pack of club bands and begins his association with the Children's Home. The connection has grown from playing and organizing the annual holiday show to regular trips to the non-profit's villas, where Friss plays his guitar, shoots baskets and presents youngsters with a positive role-model. It has also put him in a position to rub elbows with the Children's Home's better-known benefactors, including the Bullards and Steinbrenners. Friss donated proceeds from the song "Suzie Darling" off his first album to the Home. And he's hoping to organize a "Christmas in July" concert to benefit the Home this summer. "I did it at first because it made me feel good, giving something back. At Christmas, it's nice to think about other people," says Friss. "Now it's just part of me. It's not, oh, I gotta do my Christmas thing. I go out there all the time. I break the stereotype of what a guy with long hair who plays in a band can be. They don't need me to tell kids right and wrong. They like me to come out and be a friend. I like to go because the kids are cool." "The kids love him," says Michele Pernula, public relations coordinator for the Children's Home. "Your initial thought of a rock 'n' roller is not Bobby Friss, other than the long hair. He's just been a wonderful person, a great role-model for the kids, too. He tells them to keep hanging in there, work hard, and you'll do well. Year-'round involvement is important to Friss, because it helps dispel the notion he's involved just because it makes good P.R. For instance, while he has a basketball court in his own backyard, he prefers to play at the Home. "I use it all the time," he says. Then, laughing, "I helped buy it."Birdies and Bogeys When he's in town and not recording, Friss hits the links with WYNF (95 FM) air personality Russ Albums and Greg Billings of Stranger. "He's got that rock 'n' roll swing," says Albums. "It's a pure powerfade with a grunt like you heard when (boxer) John Mugabi gives you a punch in the solar plexus, a rush of wind like Hurricane Elena through your ears. Then we go looking for the ball." On a good day, Friss says he'll shoot a 90, but 100 is more likely. "I just haven't turned the corner," he says. "I'll shoot a couple good holes, then I fall apart." They play "wherever they want to comp us," says Friss. "We're fortunate. We have a lot of golf courses that like my music and Russ's show." Golf has been good on the road as a soft public relations tool. "Most DJs seem to play," says Friss. "A lot of club owners play. It's good to get to know people on a more personal level."Mr. Business There are three bottles of Miller Genuine Draft beer in the Friss refrigerator and one well-aged bottle of Seagram's Wild Berry wine cooler. Bobby Friss may have his drinking tricks on stage, but at home, he's stone cold sober. "He's almost a poster boy for the 'Say No' syndrome," according to his father. "He uses (alcohol) in his act, but not in his personal life. You can't be as busy as he is and be in a fog all time." That must be a significant difference between Friss and other local band leaders because virtually everyone interviewed about the musician commented on the sober focus he keeps on business matters. "He's been the most business-oriented musician for both the band and the club," according to Art Haedike of the Porthole. "It's always been, 'What do we need so we can both make money?'" Friss -- whose band can draw anywhere from $500 to $4,000 for a night's work -- takes his role as benevolent dictator (his brother Jay jokingly refers to the position as "D.H." -- "Designated Hitler") seriously. He is responsible for a six-man, full-time payroll -- paid weekly in cash, incidentally, because that's the way the band likes it. The four musicians and two roadies working for him rely entirely on the popularity and market value of the name Bobby Friss. In the early days, Friss followed a simple philosophy: "In tune, on time, with clean hair." And forget about hoping to die before he gets old. This is a home-owning man getting married this June 17 with plans to have children and a future. "Being 34 -- if somebody else started working with a firm at 21, they've got 14 years of pennies put away by now. I don't," he says. "I've got to be prepared for that. But a guy in my position is always thinking you're going to make that big jump, that you're going to have so much money, which keeps you going, I guess." Leroy Myers says his boss is shrewd. "We get more airplay than we probably deserve around here," says the drummer. "That comes down to the fact that Bob, on a daily basis, deals well with people. I'm sure the disc jockeys and club owners see him differently than guys in younger bands who come in and say, 'Hey, dude,' and 'Mind if I smoke a joint?' They see him as an equal, a guy running his own business."Yesterday, Today, & Tomorrow "He just needs that one break to make it to the big time," says friend Rick Richey. "There's no one more deserving than Bob." "In the nine years I've known him, he's really changed a lot. If you really want to be successful at something like music you have top be single-minded and directed. But he has a good balancer and hasn't lost that direction. He's always looking the step ahead. He might be happy where he is," but he's not satisfied," says Michele. "He's never content to pat himself on the back and say, yeah, I'm doing okay. I think that's why he's making progress. And he's very talented." "I like my house. I like being with Michele. This number one in my life. My number two life is being on the road," says Friss. "But if I get a record deal and it means six months on the road opening concerts for Whitesnake, you can bet your ass I'm going to do it! When you get your shot, you have to take it."Back to Work Break over. Back to the stage of the Rock-it Club. Steeling himself, doubts are dispelled and the party animal is back. As Friss makes his way back to the stage, he autographs pictures for his fans, shakes a lot of hands and says hello to a lot of people whose faces he can instantly attach to a name. As the red LED crawl for "Ruben's Bail Bonds" -- "Traffic-Criminal-Narcotics ... 24-Hour Service ... 3 Generations of Successful Bail Bondsmen" -- goes across the ceiling of the dance floor, Friss comes clean with the audience. "I've got to admit when I came to the club, I could've cared less. Then I started to think about how lucky I am. I've got a great band, we've got a new album, I'm healthy, I live in the greatest country in the world -- what do I have to be pissed about? I feel a little like Jimmy Stewart. I'm the happiest, luckiest man alive! This is the greatest night of my life!" And he means it.
Home: North Tampa Age: 34School: Largo High Love Life: Married girlfriend of nine years, painter Michele Wyatt, on June 17 Guitar: Fender Professional Secret: Is a Bucanneer season ticket holder; schedules concerts around football games Personal Flaw: "He doesn't have a lot of patience with hammers or screwdrivers," according to Michele. Conversational Tip: "When I get with my close friends we don't talk about my last gig. We talk about their kids or Michele's art classes." Listen For: Many Friss songs contain Tampa Bay references. On his new album, the song "Welcome Home" mentions Lowry Park and playing pool at Mr. Stubby's in Clearwater
© 1999, All rights reserved. No portion may be reproduced without the express written permission of the author.
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