The Expert

By Christian Lipski

A while back, my wife and I went to see Enuff Z’Nuff at the Coach House in San Juan Capistrano. That sounds like an strange and exotic location to see a band, but it’s actually just a 250-person-capacity bar in a small town in Orange County. Appearances can be deceiving.

I love love love Enuff Z’Nuff, and feel that they got an undeserved reputation from being mixed in with the hair metal movement of the late 80s/early 90s. I had posters of them on my walls in college, went to see them on tour in 1990, and tracked down all ten of their CDs, which is a hard task when a band records for multiple labels, most of which have less-than-perfect distribution channels. Needless to say, I was excited.

Enuff Z’Nuff

We got to the club about an hour before the show to make sure we would be close enough to the stage. There was a floor in front for standing, but along the walls were raised sections that basically continued from the stage towards the front of the house. The tables on these platforms were oddly empty, so mustering up my bravado, I led the way to one nearest the stage. This put us about five feet from stage right.

Show time neared, and I was getting increasingly anxious to see my power-pop idols. Being virtually on stage with the band, I decided that I was going to be bold and ask for an autograph. I’d never done that before, always being too shy to approach celebrities, but this was an opportunity that was too great to pass up. In my head I practiced my lines, and on the table I assembled a piece of paper and a pen.

Then someone came on to the edge of the stage to check the guitar pedal settings. My heart leapt as I recognized Donnie Vie, the lead singer. The band had chucked the hair spray and makeup their label assigned to them, so I wasn’t surprised that he was more normal-looking. I made my move: “Excuse me, could I get your autograph?”

He looked at me and shook his head. “You don’t want my autograph. I’m just the roadie.”

Cue the dolly zoom as the room recedes and my head buzzes like an overloaded circuit.

I wondered how many people were standing behind me on the floor and watching this exchange. Quick—play it off somehow. “Uh, sure I do,” I insisted. That’s it, you’re interested in collecting signatures from everyone who works with the band or the venue. I’m sure that has happened in some alternate universe. The roadie then released me from my clever fabrication with a final “Naw, man,” and went on to do his work.

The real Donnie Vie.

Not only did I mistake a roadie for Donnie Vie, not only did I somehow decide that the band had been reduced to hauling and setting up their own equipment, but it turned out that Donnie was not actually touring with Enuff Z’Nuff at the time—the lead guitarist was handling the vocal duties. I searched my memory to see if I had gotten the name of the band right; maybe it was Dokken that I actually loved. I didn’t seem to be very familiar with Enuff Z’Nuff. The show itself was awesome, however, and afterwards my wife drove back home with an expert who was a little less expert than he had first appeared.