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Limitless Sky
Lodi's A Skylit Drive is playing, recording and rockin' across the nation ... and there's no end in sight
Collier Road that runs between Lodi and Galt is quiet and slightly dreamlike. In front of a strip of old apartments, two identical plastic swimming pools sit side-by-side; children jumping on a trampoline near the sun-baked street are silhouetted against a barbed-wire fence; a hand painted sign reads "Chivos for sale." Fire engines the color of neon banana peels rush toward Highway 99. Teenagers buy bottles of Dr. Pepper and local laborers pick up Friday-night twelve packs at the shabby Collierville store.
It doesn't seem the kind of place that would be a regular haunt for A Skylit Drive: a Lodi band known pretty much everywhere, except, well, Lodi. It's a little weird to see the hard rockers lounging under a pool-side gazebo at a country home. But out here, A Skylit Drive doesn't have to worry about bothering the neighbors.
Anyone who is familiar with the Lodi music scene (excluding maybe vaudeville and classical acts) knows A Skylit Drive and its five members are all about rock and roll.
"It's hella rock," guitarist Joey Wilson clarified.
Though their Myspace page gives them away as screamo, experimental and rock, sans genre classification is how they like it. They are compared to Coldplay and Norma Jean, Saosin and Shiodos (which they admit is a compliment).

Lead singer Jordan Blake, 19, is as intense as the lyrics he writes. He melds his religious beliefs with medieval magic, creating a twisted, lyrical game of Dungeons and Dragons. Lyrics read, "Light of God, send your love to my sword to tear apart the demons the heavens refuse to touch."
"If you could kill the devil," he pauses — "this is how you would do it."
Pretty much every member is Christian, but they're not really what you call a Christian band. They believe in a power of God, but they aren't so sure about churches around here and they don't strive for their music to be preachy.
"You just gotta rock it," bassist Brian White said.
When they play, there is a unspoken structure onstage as humming chords, vibrations and music send something meaningful and a little melancholy into the country air.
White keeps each song on schedule with every pluck of thick string on his bass. Joey Wilson, 19, and Nick Miller, 19, follow on guitar. They slide their fingers up and down guitar necks with each transition. The cement ground beats like a nervous heart when Cory LaQuay, 19, strikes the leopard print drum barrels.
They are all local boys. LaQuay lives the farthest away — in Elk Grove. Blake lives in Galt. White, Wilson, Miller are Lodi High graduates.
On a Friday afternoon in mid-September, half of the band sits in cushioned chairs around a glass-topped patio table before practice. They drink Red Bull and fidget with their cell phones.

Even in their obvious differences, they match. Their hair is cut choppy and on the long side. Hair is pulled forward from exaggerated parts and brushed sideways with forehead-covering bangs. They are taller than you might expect. Thin, too. They wear skinny jeans made popular by The Clash, Ramones and The Sex Pistols. It's not uncommon for Fruit of the Loom waistbands to reveal themselves from under fitted band T-shirts.
Since A Skylit Drive formed almost two years ago, life after high school has been nothing but writing, recording and touring. Their first CD, "She Watched the Sky" was released in January after they signed with the East Coast recording company, "Tragic Heroes Records."
Locally, they have played at the One-Eighty Teen Center (where they won the Battle of the Bands competition this summer) and the Empire Theatre in Stockton. But it's obvious, and they admit it: There's just no place for them in Lodi, not anymore.
So, sometimes they leave. And what have they found? Fans. A whole swarm of them. In Texas, they found a crowd of 600 energetic young people who squeezed against the stage, where a shirtless Blake screamed into a jungle pit of sweaty, screaming fans below.
"In San Antonio, they bring it the most," Wilson said.
In an 18-passenger, cherry-colored Chevy van is how they get from Collier Road to venues in New York, North Carolina and Texas. 30,000 of the 60,000 miles on their van was done driving between small dives, music venues, Exxon gas stations, Arby's and What-a-Burger (their favorite burgers in North Carolina).
On the road, it's not uncommon for the van's gray interior to be lit with a glowing green and white halo of electricity from the three PSPs (PlayStation Portables), two DS Nintendos and three iPods the members have between them. Travel time isn't always rowdy, usually it's where they get down time. They even profess that Journey is the CD of choice in their pseudo-bus, but it's hard to tell if they're being serious.

They wish they could play closer to home; but since there aren't many venues, they play in a different sense of the word: Party.
"We have a lot of parties," White said. "They're out of control."
Miller intervenes.
"We have sleepovers with KFC, popcorn, pizza and Rated-R movies," he said, smiling at an inside joke.
The guys live at home with their parents. It doesn't make sense for them to live anywhere when most of the time "home" means being confined to a chair via seatbelt. They pay for things like cell phone bills. But unlike most 19-year-old boys, these guys know they couldn't be full-time band members without parents who pay for things like an outdoor refrigerator stocked with bottled water and shiny cans of Red Bull.
To the parents, it's all worth it.
"They're chasing a dream," said Chris Simmons, Kiel Simmons' father, who makes sure the oil gets changed and the service engine light stays off. "All of the parents are really supportive."
On Collier Road, the Simmons household has not only become the practice location, but a home for the band.
In an oversized garage packed tight with a covered boat, antiques and yard equipment, A Skylit Drive gives the term garage rock new meaning. In a tight corner they rock out between stacks of speakers and stage equipment. White rests his feet on the grooves of a guitar case by the Miracle Grow and ice chest stored on the shelf. Thick black chords litter the concrete floor and connect their instruments to plugs, outlets and other complicated things.
Even in practice, it is obvious each musician is focused. In long shorts and loafers that a weekend sailboat captain might wear, Miller works slowly up and down the strings, running his fingers over coral shell embedded in his instrument. He rocks his head in rhythm, flinging small locks of red hair back and forth.
Simmons is one of the quiet ones. He watches his band members, moving his fingers over white keyboard keys at specific moments. He's the one responsible for the bone-chilling dramatic tones. When Wilson plays the guitar, his fingers play strings as though he were playing piano keys.
LaQuay beats the drum in rubber flip-flops. His eyes are dark and full, a make-up artist's dream. His nose is pierced and his earlobess wrap around quarter-sized gauges. When he arrives, the rest of the band knows it's time to rock. He flicks his wrists fast to loud music and suddenly breaks into slow, steady beats.
The band will spend up to four hours rehearsing. They stand in a circle. Blake might be sitting on a speaker, his crossed legs bouncing up and down. A strong voice comes out of his small frame and his pale face turns red his voice howls from speakers. Holding the head of the mic in his hand, a tree grows from his elbow — just one of his tattoos.
Perhaps it's their show-me-everything-you-got jeans, the colorful tattoos or just effortless talent that makes crowds across the United States fall in love with A Skylit Drive. And maybe it's true that if you're doing something you love, it shows. It's obvious: They are doing what they love, and they don't plan to stop.
"We plan to go as far as we can without changing who we are," Miller said.
His bandmates pause at his perfect response, then they cheer in agreement.
Contact Feature Writer Lauren Nelson at laurenn@lodinews.com.

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