by Jennifer Jowsey

Created on: November 06, 2010

My favorite band is Roger Clyne & the Peacemakers, an independent rock and roll band out of Arizona. Meeting them was a dream of mine. It was certainly attainable, as they are a very accessible band who constantly tours the United States, playing over 100 shows each year. It was my own shyness that I feared would hold me back. But as Roger Clyne says, “love trumps fear,” and with that in mind, I was able to fulfill my dream of meeting my favorite band.

In the mid-1990s, singer Roger Clyne and drummer P.H. Naffah were in the Refreshments, whom I listened to in college. It wasn’t until years later that I finally thought to look them up online, and was pleased to find that they had formed a new band, Roger Clyne & the Peacemakers (RCPM for short), and were continuing to put out great music.

I finally synced my vacation schedule with RCPM’s tour schedule and got to see them in Ferndale, MI on September 23, 2008. After the show, I saw the bus in the parking lot and a crowd of fans around it. I hesitated and finally continued to the car, too intimidated to approach the band.

There was a personnel change in the band, and Jim Dalton was the new guitarist for RCPM. Everything I read online said what an incredibly nice, normal guy he was (not that the other guys weren’t, but in my mind Roger Clyne was a rock star to be revered).

I went to see RCPM in Ann Arbor, MI on May 16, 2009, determined to get over my fears and meet the band. It was an incredible show, and I got to shake hands with both Roger and Jim as they left the stage - both of them thanking me. I was speechless. As we were filing out of the club, my friend asked if I was ready to meet them. Up ahead of us, I saw Jim walking out with a group of people, just right there, in the audience, like anyone else. Nice, normal. Yes, I told her, I’m ready.

Waiting outside in line by the bus, P.H. and bassist Nick Scropos came out, talking and signing stuff. I managed a “hi” and “thanks” (again, they were thanking us, the fans). I was getting antsy, afraid I’d retreat, when a cheer went through the crowd. I looked up to find Roger waving as he approached the bus. The break in the fence happened to be right next to me, so as he stepped through, he held out his hand and announced, “Hi, I’m Roger.” I shook his hand again, dumbfounded: here he was acting like some average Joe, not the brilliant author of the most astounding music and lyrics

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