[Sly Fox]

Anybody on here know these guys:

Loud, fast and out of control

Jon Busdeker
jbusdeker@newsadvance.com
August 31, 2006

Caleb Goins is playing a killer tune on his guitar. He’s the only one rocking out.

No one can hear the music. The ear-deafening riffs of metal are muted.

Next to him is Darren Via. He follows Caleb’s lead and plays a hushed headbanger harmony.

Darren and Caleb’s guitars aren’t plugged in because they’re on next. The duo is anxious to show off their skills as the guitar players of Ghost of a Fallen Age.

Ghost of a Fallen Age is a five-piece Lynchburg band featuring a group of friends who share a passion for playing metal.

Last Friday, at the Rustburg Ruritan Club, Ghost played the first show of a weekend tour that would take them from Rustburg to Myrtle Beach, S.C., to Greensboro, N.C., and back.

But right now, the members of Ghost aren’t thinking about tomorrow. Their minds are on tonight’s show and they’re itching to play.

“I’m tired of standing around,” Darren says.

It won’t be much longer. Soon, the five members of Ghost will be in front of the crowd doing what they do best: playing music that’s loud, fast and out of control.

While the boys continue to strum away, Jon McMillan hovers around his black and orange drum set.

He’s a beast of man who looks like a cross between Hillbilly Jim and a Viking. Jon’s in his drumming clothes, which consist of a pair of green gym shorts, a black T-shirt with a drawing of a bronze skeleton under the neckline and a sweat-stained white headband.

Donnie Graham’s bass guitar is strapped around his chest while he scribbles words on a piece of notebook paper. “Critical.” “3:15.” “2007.”

He’s making a set-list.

Matt McMillan, Jon’s brother, is wandering around a rental hall that normally hosts retirement parties and baby showers. Tonight, all eyes will be on him. Matt’s the fifth and final member of Ghost and the lead singer. He doesn’t need to warm up. He’s ready all the time.

Matt, 21, of Roanoke; Darren, 24, Jon, 22, Donnie, 20, all of Lynchburg; and Caleb, 23, of North Carolina make up Ghost of a Fallen Age and tonight is the beginning of another try to turn the dreams of musical success into a reality.

Rocking out in Rustburg

Tonight, the young metalheads of the Hill City are out in full force. Kids smoking cigarettes and talking about music surround the Ruritan Club. The fans are clad in black with bright-colored tattoos running up their arms and piercings through their eyebrows, lips and septums. This is a crowd of rebels listening to a type of music that makes ears bleed and mothers cry.

As they bring their equipment to the front of the club, Caleb, Donnie and Darren stack their speakers on top of each other to create a five-foot wall of sound.

A semi-circle forms around the band with space big enough for a Cadillac to parallel park. That’s the area meant for punching fists, flailing arms and roundhouse kicks. It’s for the metal dancers.

The guitars, the bass and the drums explode in unison. The music is fast. It’s dark. It’s heavy. It’s METAL.

Matt rips into the lyrics. His voice sounds like a Velociraptor or the voice of a blood-sucking demon pulling an unlucky soul into the pits of hell. None of the words are audible. It’s all screams.

The fans eat up the mix of ultra-fast drumbeats, roaring guitar riffs and heavy breakdowns.

“You guys having a good time?” Matt asks the crowd between songs.

Applause is response.

Ghost burns through their set of seven songs in less than 30 minutes. When Ghost finishes, Matt’s on his knees catching his breath, Darren collapses and the rest are drenched in sweat.

This is only the first night. They still have two more shows, 750 miles and 14 hours of driving before the weekend is over.

Behind the music

Matt is the man behind the lyrics of Ghost. So far, he’s poured out his feelings for seven songs that landed on the band’s demo. (They’ve yet to release an album, but T-shirts and Everything Falls Together’s album is available at the shows.) He’s the only one in the band willing to share his feelings for the fans.

“I have no musical talent whatsoever,” he says.

But he can write.

His lyrics are a mix of conspiracy theories about 9/11, humanity’s knack to conform and his beliefs in Christianity. Matt, like the rest of Ghost, is a Christian, but they’re not a Christian band.

“I don’t like being called a Christian band,” Caleb says. “We’re just like everyone else.”

Ghost doesn’t preach during its shows because Matt, Jon and Caleb experienced enough preaching at Liberty University, they say. All dropped out when they decided the other students were too judgmental, Jon says.

The band’s Christian views will come out if a fan wants to know about them or if he or she reads their lyrics.

One of Ghost’s songs, “Irrefutable Evidence For A Skeptic (3:15 a.m.)” is about Matt’s encounter with a demon. He describes the shadowy creature that turned his life around. For a time Matt was addicted to drugs and alcohol. He went to Narcotics Anonymous and beat the drug addiction. He’ll still drink the occasional beer, but usually sticks to Dr Pepper.

On the road

The guys in Ghost look forward to going on tour because it’s a time to relax, hang out and play music.

Ghost’s white Ford Econoline van leads the pack carrying cymbals, drums, guitars, more equipment and some of the band members.

Caleb purchased the van for touring purposes for $800 from his sister-in-law’s grandfather. The van has 250,000 miles on it, an awful sound system, no air conditioning and no back seats, but it’s decent on gas, he says.

Caleb tried to spruce up the van with a blue carpet, but it doesn’t help its appearance much.

When members of Ghost arrive at their next venue, a place called The Social in Myrtle Beach, they meet with the promoter. He’s handing out green wristbands to the bands so they don’t have to pay to get in. He’s also telling them the problems with the show. It’s double booked, so they have to play earlier than expected.

A couple of local Myrtle Beach bands play before Ghost takes the stage. When it’s their turn, band members haul their equipment to the stage. By this time, more than 150 people are in the crowd waiting to hear them. Unlike in Rustburg, most of these people haven’t heard of Ghost. The band wants to change that. The band wants these kids to know the name Ghost of a Fallen Age when they come back to Myrtle Beach.

When it’s time, the band does it again. Caleb shreds, Jon pounds, Donnie strums, Darren thrashes and Matt screams.

It’s a big deal when the people at the show dance for a band that’s never played a show in that town.

The kids in Myrtle Beach are going crazy on the dance floor when Ghost plays. Everyone in the band is happy with the performance, despite driving for more than six hours and playing for less than 30 minutes.

But the crowd’s love doesn’t translate into the dollars. Ghost sells one $12 T-shirt and one $8 CD. The promoter gives them $80.

Ghost leaves the venue at 11 p.m. en route to Charlotte, where they cram into a friend’s condo for what’s left of a night’s sleep before heading to their next gig, in Greensboro.

Eighteen hours after they left Myrtle Beach, they are on stage again at a venue called Greene Street in Greensboro. There are fewer than 50 people in the crowd. It’s a Sunday night and the show was poorly promoted, the band says.

Despite the small crowd, Ghost doesn’t relent on its musical metal attack. The band members don’t miss a note. The show is flawless.

“It was our best show musically,” Darren says after the set.

Ghost doesn’t sell a single item at the merchandise table. Later on, they discover the promoter had to pay the venue $500 for the space. Since the bands didn’t draw enough people, no one gets paid.

It wasn’t a total loss. Ghost got some exposure outside of Lynchburg.

No one complains. It’s part of being on tour.

In the next couple of months, Ghost has plans for more shows and more tours. The goal is to get attention from a record label and have them pay for cross-country tours. One day, if all goes according to plan, the members of Ghost hope to make a living playing metal.

“If we keep playing it will work out,” Jon says, “… (and) we’re doing something we love.”

http://www.newsadvance.com/servlet/Sate ... ws!archive

That's an incredible amount of ink in the local fishwrap for a fledgling band.