You have probably never heard of Paris By Air? No hard feelings, just my band, which unless you were touring nightclubs in the early 1990s you might think was just a travel agency. We were an arrogant bunch, pumping out dance music like every other synthesizer-based Miami garage band, except we were lucky enough to be signed by Columbia Records (now owned by Sony, formerly CBS Records). All of my rock band friends branded me a sellout for writing "souped-up disco" but I was quick to point out that while they were pawning their Les Paul I was making pocket change on stage. When our first single, "Voices in Your Head," made it all the way to #14 on the Billboard Dance Chart in December, 1989, we knew we were going to be the biggest band of the coming decade. A few months later we had another club hit in "C'mon & Dance With Me." Yep, fame and fortune, who was to deny us?

We were playing all over as budding superstars do. Airlines had us on a first-name basis as we packed our gear and spent our weekends gigging everywhere in New York, California, Texas, even the country of Panama. During the week I took care of a nuisance called college. I was on a Graduate Assistantship at the University of Miami and if it wasn't for the fact that it was a full scholarship, with pay to boot, I probably never would have stuck around to get my MBA. I enjoyed school; don't get me wrong. But when Knott's Berry Farm pays your band $5,000 for a thirty-minute set, case studies and financial statements seem to lose their practical luster.

It was around that time that things began to fall apart. Columbia Records, cutting lesser acts from their roster as recession kicked in, let us go. Our singer, long on talent, short on tact, began to believe the sparse press clippings. One day she announced that she was moving to New York City where the stars are, just as Madonna and Sly Stallone were moving down to South Florida digs, and The Big Apple swallowed her whole. At a time when most bands would be weighing label offers we were looking for a new singer. Before she left we managed to get her to sing on one more song, one that was for a holiday compilation on a CBS subsidiary. Despite pessimism in its thickest splendor, we wrote a song of Christmas cheer called, "It's Another Holiday." We also cut a Spanish version for a simultaneous Latin release.

The group marched on and strangely enough, so has "It's Another Holiday." When December rolls around local radio will still play it once or twice. Friends have heard it on the holiday soundtrack at The Limited stores. A spunky song, never released as a single, has found more airplay than our first two singles combined. The Paris By Air book is far from finished; the very fact that we are a bilingual trio has just landed us a deal with BMG's Ariola Dance label, but the Foolish lesson here lies in patience and practice. When you're new, you think you know everything. Seasoned, with time and life lessons on your side, you think you know nothing. The perception is inversely related to the reality. Our early recordings had heart without substance. The key is to soak in the knowledge while keeping your passion unobstructed.

Ignorance is not bliss. Complacency is not king. Together they breed miserable paupers, or frustrated musicians who get gobbled up in Metropolis. The stage now beckons, with familiar challenges but now with a clearer road map to guide us. History can be a cruel teacher but who said learning is painless. Master pupils we, raise the curtain, here we go.

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