Ball State alumnus (and former Cardinal golfer) Chris Shaffer appeared to have it made in the mid-nineties: his band, the Why Store, had scored a major label deal with MCA and had a national hit with the single "Lack of Water."
The group, who had a well-established fan base in Indiana and had released two albums independently, seemed like it might be finally ready for the big time.
Instead, Shaffer and the band found that they were simply small fish in the large, large pond of MCA recording artists, and struggled to receive adequate promotion for their albums. The Why Store's relationship with the conglomorate deteriorated, and the band and label parted ways after two records.
The Why Store released another album on their own, and shortly thereafter called it quits.
Shaffer's next project, Shaffer Street, also fizzled, likely because the group's Fleetwood Mac-influenced classic rock sound was a hard sell to music industry executives during an era dominated by nu metal, hip-hop and pop divas.
Shaffer is now a solo act, sometimes performing with a backing band. After his negative experience with a major label, Shaffer told me in a 2002 interview that he'd only accept "the right kind of record deal," one that supported his music but allowed him enough creative control.
Until such an opportunity comes along, Shaffer's resigned himself to the fact he'll be playing much smaller venues than he did in the Why Store's heyday. It's a tradeoff, but the deep-voiced troubadour is following his own path; it's his way or no way, and that's a credo any musician can respect.
Shaffer's songwriting, though full of references to his Indiana heritage, is closer to Cat Stevens than John Mellencamp. His shimmering twelve-string acoustic guitar and rough-edged, yet surprisingly agile vocal chops create an unmistakeable sound.
Shaffer plays at Heartland in South Bend on Friday.
O.A.R.
College rock band plays ... college
Acoustic-based rock has long been a pillar of "college music," and O.A.R., consciously or not (I would lean toward the former) epitomize the subgenre.
Originally from Columbus, Ohio, O.A.R. started out playing college fraternity parties and eventually developed a following across the Midwest with a mix of covers and their own bland tunes, which combine unimaginative acoustic chord progressions with Caucasianized reggae. They landed a record deal and now tour the nation.
I'd be far more able to appreciate this band if they demonstrated a sense of humor about themselves, but, regrettably, their moniker stands for the maddeningly pretentious "Of a Revolution." Good to know that someone's finally going to pick up where John Lennon left off.
If you do, however, wish to be a part of the revolution, check out their show in West Lafayette tonight.