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No, you never do. The pop charts have always been peppered with pubescent pop-tarts, from a pre-adolescent Michael Jackson to 1980s mall stars Debbie Gibson and Tiffany to 1990s icons Hanson and Britney Spears. But today's musical role models seem more like peers than mentors. Some members of the multiplatinum rock act Panic! At the Disco, emo-dreamboats Cute Is What We Aim For and snarling grrl-punks Be Your Own Pet are barely out of high school; Hayley Williams of Paramore was sixteen when her band released its 2005 debut. For the right kid with the right talent, a career in music may well be within reach.

"The rock stars of today are the kid that lives next door," Dave Simon agrees. "That's the image they're selling: It's this kid in your high school class, not this 25-year-old guy who lives in some far-off big city and stands on top of the mountain singing his hit song. It's much more down to earth and more accessible — which I think is a good thing."

And it's not all about glory. Fifteen-year-old Jonathan Todd plays in Failure for Friends (www.myspace.com/failureforfriends), which has gigged at a friend's birthday party and a high school bash. Next they aspire to record with rock school instructor Ben May, drummer for local punk-poppers the Cause.

Todd's father has been taking him to clubs like the Way Out and the Creepy Crawl since he was twelve.

"I see a show every weekend, whether it's local or a big band," the younger Todd says. "Local bands are always fun shows. If you start going to see a band enough, you get to know the people at the shows, you get to know the bands. It's more of an experience. You're united with the people that are into them."

Todd says when he grows up he "pretty much would be satisfied" having a day job and playing every weekend in a local band.

Covent Garden (www.myspace.com/coventgardenstl) is another group with Rock School roots that's venturing into the St. Louis scene.

"Right now, in all honesty, we're just in it to have fun," says seventeen-year-old Covent Garden drummer Alex Frankel, who studied at Rock School until 2005. "We figure the music industry is such a tough industry to break into and be successful, we'd rather have guaranteed success in other aspects of our lives."

Simon says he has been asked about whether the Junior Mints, say, might generate some money, and about why he doesn't focus more on educating kids about the business aspect of the music industry. His response: He'd rather help the kids develop their musical chops and social skills and see where they go from there.

"The music industry is not something I would recommend to people," Simon says. "It's an entertainment industry, and not everyone comes out of it feeling so good about themselves. And at least people come out of this stage — you're going to feel great about yourself. If you're young, you've had great experiences with music. All these kids get into it, not because they want to be rich and have careers — it's 'cause they love rock & roll. The industry — the minute that's added to the equation, the purity is gone."

That view isn't surprising, as it's coming from a guy who studied jazz at Webster University, and who still relishes his memories of being fifteen and playing music in the basement.

"If you can learn the rules and learn the theory, that's gonna be a good college prep experience," Simon reasons. "I would love it for the kids that come out of here to go into a jazz program and have teachers go, 'Oh wow, you really know your stuff. Where did you learn this? Oh, Dave Simon's Rock School.'"

Simon's high school new-wave/funk/ reggae band Blank Space, which specialized in "party music people could dance to," was far from a basement-only proposition. At various times during the 1980s Blank Space opened for Fishbone, the Violent Femmes and the Red Hot Chili Peppers. (Fun fact: Jeff Tweedy's band the Primitives — which later morphed into Uncle Tupelo — opened for Simon's band.)

"He was completely obsessed with what he was doing. Very driven," recalls Blank Space bandmate Michael Apirion. "When he gets into a style of music, he really gets into it. He was new-wave Dave, he was ska-boy Dave, he was funky Dave. He was punk-rock Dave. He was a rapper for a while. [But] he's not a bandwagon jumper. He believes in those styles."

When Simon developed an interest in songwriting and hip-hop production, he bought a sampler and moved to New York City. ("Isn't that what you do once you buy a sampler?") He landed an internship at Spin, appeared in the pilot of MTV's The Real World and auditioned as an MTV VJ.

He also recorded a demo by high school friend Louise Post, who'd go on to greater fame as the vocalist for Veruca Salt.

"I've always been inspired by his passion for music and education, and devotion to music," Post says by phone from a recent Veruca Salt tour stop. "He really lives, breathes, sleeps and dreams it. He knows how to make things happen and follow through with his ideas and projects. There's nothing half-assed to what he does."

Simon's idea for a rock school took shape in 1996 when he was living in San Francisco, but he didn't have the money to follow through. Yet even after moving back to St. Louis for good in 2000 and marrying two years later, the idea stuck.

In 2002 he and wife Keri worked as counselors at a self-esteem-building summer camp for kids. At the time he was working in Savvis Inc.'s IT department; Keri was a caseworker at BJC. Mounting frustration with his job came to a head at the close of the weeklong camp session.

"We just loved being around kids again, being around teenagers," Simon says. "It was depressing for us to go back to our jobs — more me than her — and be in corporate America. Being around kids and feeling like I was impacting their lives had really helped me get back to my rock & roll roots. So we said, 'Hey, maybe we can do a rock & roll camp, a summer camp.' And the more I researched it, the more I thought, 'God, why not make it a school, a full-time thing?'"

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