By S.L. Berry
The Indianapolis News | April 23, 1990
Flashy playing aside, in music less frequently is more. It’s not how much you play, but how you play that sets the tone, that creates impressions that linger long after a song has ended. Think of Miles Davis. Bonnie Raitt. Steve Winwood. Think of Lisa Germano.
Though her name may not strike a chord, think of John Mellencamp’s Lonesome Jubilee and Big Daddy albums. Remember the sound of the violin — its subtle, folksy elegance woven throughout the songs. That’s Lisa Germano.
“I’m not a hot fiddle player,” says Germano, settled in her sparsely furnished Northside apartment that she shares with her sister. “That has always made it difficult for me to find jobs. What I do well is write with people and put a real simple line in a song instead of something flashy.”
Fortunately for her, that’s exactly what Mellencamp was looking for in 1985 when his drummer Kenny Aronoff invited Germano to sit in at a recording session. Aronoff had met Germano several months before at the Opry in Nashville, Ind., where she was playing in the house band.
“Kenny called me and said John, whom I hadn’t met yet, wanted to use a violin player on a song,” says Germano. “I went to the studio after the gig at the Opry. I had my little Opry outfit on, and they all go the biggest kick out of me. I played on the acoustic version of ‘Small Town.'”
That experience, says Germano, changed her life. A week later Mellencamp asked her to join the Scarecrow tour. Though he hadn’t used the violin on that album, he explained, he wanted people to get used to hearing the instrument because he intended to use it on his next record. Just like that, Germano became a member of Mellencamp’s band. Tonight and Tuesday she’ll join Billy Joel in Chicago for a stop on his Storm Front tour.
In retrospect it sounds so easy. But nothing comes easy in the music business.
Germano, who grew up in Mishawaka, began playing classical violin at 7. Her proficiency resulted in scholarships and accolades. Her father, a conductor and teacher, encouraged her while cautioning her against making music her career.
“My dad knew what the life of a musician is like,” says Germano. “There are a lot of bad things around that it’s hard not to indulge in. He also knew what men are like, and he didn’t like seeing me get involved in a really big man’s world. He always wanted me to be safe, get married and be a teacher.”
But music was Germano’s passion, and she chased the dream so many other young musicians chase. While attending Indiana University in the late 1970s, she played in a number of bands and wrote music. Since childhood, she had wanted to be recognized for her own work. “As a child I was always a writer. I wrote little things, piano pieces,” says Germano.
The better she got, the closer she thought she was getting to her dream of recording her own work. When she and her brother were offered a chance to develop a demo tape of music they had written together, that dream seemed close enough to touch. But the deal went sour—as did Germano’s taste for music.
Even now, year’s later, the shadow of a frown creases her forehead as she recalls what followed. “I quit,” she says. “It seemed to me that I had done everything I could. I was miserable. I’d pick up my violin once every two months, then pretty soon it was once every six months. I was desperately depressed.”
At age 20, Germano entered what she calls “seven wasted years.” She waited tables in Bloomington and took a variety of classes—recreational therapy, education, Italian. She was looking for something to replace music.
“Out of the blue,” says Germano, “somebody called me to audition at the Opry. I thought, ‘Well, that’s just like waitressing, isn’t it? Playing country music that I don’t really like?’ I could make as much money and work less house, so I went back into music.”
However, after several years away from the violin, she no longer had the dexterity or the musical skills she once had. She had to learn to play again, a process that took nearly a year. The difference between playing at the Opry, she says, was her attitude. “I was determined not to like music again. I was never going to love it, never going to put my heart into it again.”
Then she met Aronoff. “Kenny was such an inspiration to me because he was happy. I started thinking that maybe I could be just as happy doing what I do. I started to practice the music that I like again.”
The rest is history.
Not that the story ends with the unhappy violinist living happily ever after as a member of Mellencamp’s band. For one thing, that’s not a 40-hour-a-week position. While Mellencamp treats his band members well, he really only needs them when he is arranging and recording songs or touring. Since he didn’t tour after the release of “Big Daddy” last year, band members have been forced to find other projects to pay the bills.
Germano spend eight months on tour in Europe with Simple Minds, a Scottish rocker group, an experience she says was both exhilarating and exhausting. It gave her the opportunity to make industry contacts in Europe, including doing a recording session with U2. It also earned her an invitation to play at Mandela Day, the April 14 extravaganza at London’s Wembley Stadium featuring Simple Minds, Peter Gabriel and a host of musicians celebrating Nelson Mandela’s anti-apartheid contributions.
As much fun as it is playing on stages throughout the world, says Germano, touring isn’t the glamour fest it’s often perceived to be. In addition to being tiring, she says, “You spend a lot of time alone in your room.”
And for any violinist, appearing on stage always carries with it the fear of playing out of tune. For Germano, the fact that she tunes each of the four violins she plays on stage differently accentuates that fear. “That’s my musical signature,” she says.
When the Simple Minds tour ended in December, Germano returned to Indianapolis to write songs and put together a demo tape, a project that hit a snap when the 12-track recording system she bought went on the blink. Still, she says, she has been writing songs and making do with a four-track recorder. She’s looking for a manager and a record deal.
“I’m 31 years old,” says Germano, “and I want to something. I don’t want to sit around by the phone waiting for someone to call me. I’m not a lazy person. I want to write songs, and I want to control what I do with my life.”
As a woman in the music business, says Germano, gaining control requires striking a delicate balance between being charming and being forthright. “You have to be really political. If you talk too much, you’re a bitch. If you don’t talk at all, you’re a bimbo. If a woman has an idea, guys feel real threatened. Their response is that they don’t like the idea or they don’t like the woman. A lot of men respect a woman who is strong and has ideas, but a lot of men don’t.”
That’s why, says Germano, she appreciates what she has learned from Mellencamp. “He taught me lots of lessons about being strong and not giving up.”
These days, when times get tough and she thinks about getting out of the music business, she says, she grits her teeth and continues to practice and compose. “I have to follow through. I want to find out what my strengths are and get as good as I can using them.”
