The DJ With the JD

"G," Tony repeats.

"O," Escalante says.

"O. . . . "

"O. G. L. E," Escalante continues.

"Okay, and I can just go there and find out if . . . ?" Tony says, sounding more dude-ish all the time.

"What's your name?" Escalante wants to know.

"My name's Tony," he replies.

"Oh, hey, Tony," Escalante says. "Now, what's the name of your band?"

"Phonetic," Tony says.

Well, good luck with that.

On a different week, Deanna from Hollywood calls. She has that mousy up-talk that all young women seem to use on the phone now. She tells Escalante how she's doing it all -- she writes the songs, plays instruments, but someone has told her that the major labels are interested mostly in bands, not solo acts. But she doesn't want to split the fortunes (that will surely come, any day now) several ways among band members. Can she just pay her band for services rendered and then ditch them later?

"Here's the best of both worlds, Deanna," Escalante tells her. "You sign [the band members] to some kind of a production deal that says, 'Look, this is my band. This is the Deanna band.' And tell them: 'You play drums, you play bass, you play keytar, you play rainstick and you -- guy over there -- you just play the egg. You just stand over there and shake it.' None of you guys are really in the band. You're employees, and every time we play, I pay you. We play at the Whiskey, I pay you -- here's $50 for the egg guy. You might even have to pay them for rehearsals. . . . It's going to cost a little money, but then, when you sign your deal, they're just signing Deanna. . . . Who wants these other guys, if it's just you?"