Fort Worth Weekly - News, Entertainment, Restaurants, Music

Put yourself in Telegraph Canyon's shoes. Seven band- members drove a thousand miles from Fort Worth to Chicago to play a gig at the historic Park West Theater not long ago. The show went great. Made new fans. Earned money. Moved some merch. Had some laughs.

So, at the end of the night do you: (a) load everybody back in the RV and head home, or (b) call around, find another gig, and try to make another payday on the way back to Fort Worth?

Choosing (b) sounds like good business.

But what if the only gig offered was several hundred miles out of the way, in Hot Springs, Ark.? In a former brothel called Maxine's? And what if the gig paid $50 - barely enough to cover the cost of gasoline to get there?

Most bands - hell, most people with a brain in their heads - would punch "Fort Worth" into the GPS, hit cruise control, and head for the casa.

Telegraph Canyon took the gig. They played for peanuts even though their massive array of sound equipment takes hours to set up and tear down. Add in the extra distance traveled and wear and tear on the RV, and they lost money that night. Right?

Lead visionary and frontman Chris Johnson doesn't see it that way.

"Anybody that's ever formed a band with a calculator never got very far," he said.

The band members' eclectic musical abilities and Johnson's distinctive vocals and lyrics have made them the darling of mid-level music critics. Seattle Weekly, Fort Worth Weekly, Dallas Observer, San Diego Reader, The Dallas Morning News and various other publications have raved about the band's recent album The Tide and The Current. Bigger fish are catching on as well. Rolling Stone described Telegraph Canyon's sound as "sprawling" with "alarming small songs, ornamented with accordion and violin - quiet little alt-country numbers that work their way toward irresistible choruses."

Throw in the band's willingness - eagerness even - to drive long distances and work twice as hard as the average Cowtown group, and it's clear they are propelling themselves to wider acclaim through sheer will as much as talent.

Most people outside the Metroplex wouldn't know Telegraph Canyon from Theodore Roethke if band members weren't willing to shuck commitments at a moment's notice and hit the highway. Rambling tours that barely pay for themselves but spread music to the masses is called Paying Dues with a capital P and D.

At the same time, it's rollicking sweet toil.

"The harder you work, the luckier you get" is Johnson's credo.

So it was a no-brainer to veer east on the way home from Chicago and make their way to Maxine's. As luck would have it, the Hot Springs Documentary Film Festival was under way, and a large crowd of filmmakers and movie fans were in town, ready to party. Many ended up at Maxine's. The band killed. Afterward, a film director with a European accent schmoozed with band members, bought a CD, and carried it back home to The Netherlands.

"He gave it to this radio station [KINK-FM in The Netherlands] and they started playing the fuck out of it," Johnson said.

That led to an invitation to play at a Netherlands music festival, and now the band is booking a multi-date European tour.

"It's hard not to believe in Chris, because I've never seen anybody work as hard as him," guitarist Erik Wolfe said.

The three-ring circus that is a Telegraph Canyon load-in began at about 8 p.m. on a recent Friday night at the Allgood Café in Deep Ellum. Band members shuffled in and out, hauling numerous amplifiers, a dozen instrument cases, a drum set, and various boxes and suitcases filled with gear. At first it seemed impossible that all that stuff and all those bodies could be accommodated by such a small stage.

Working rock bands seldom employ seven members. The money splits up much better among four or fewer people. Coordinating seven lives and schedules, transporting seven people on tour, and doubling the usual amount of equipment needed for gigs takes lots of extra energy and planning. And since everybody in Telegraph Canyon is multi-talented, the number of instruments they haul is staggering - literally. Andrew Skates' Hammond B2 organ weighs 400 pounds and takes three people to lift it onto a stage.

The resulting load of cargo and flesh that's toted around in the band's RV and trailer approaches two tons. And that's how Johnson likes it.

"This band wouldn't be what it is without all of this," he said.

If a song sounds like it needs a certain instrument, they buy one. Somebody learns to play it. (Skates is particularly adept at tackling new instruments.) From then on, it's part of the traveling show - keyboards, steel guitar, violin, bass, organ, two bass drums, electric guitar, banjo, mandolin, xylophone, and so on.

After his stint with a four-piece rock 'n' roll band, Johnson wanted something different, something big and borderline unrealistic. He wanted to combine a wall of sound with an embrace of melodic silence. He wanted talented musicians to play within themselves or to stop playing altogether for stretches during songs.

Finding that mindset isn't easy. Rock 'n' roll and self-control are contradictory terms.

"There's a restraint that comes with playing in this band," Wolfe said. "It's more like a symphony."

Holding back musically means sacrificing ego for a bigger cause.