The Students at This Ashburn School Rock

Red and green lights flicker above the stage as the iconic opening riff of Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" begins. Loud, clashing drums maintain a steady beat as the guitars soften and the lead singer softly delivers the first verse. The drums kick up and the vocalist takes over the stage with her fiery velvet voice. It's one of the most triumphant concerts you could ever hope to see.

And it's even more impressive when you realize that, when Kurt Cobain died in 1994, this lead singer hadn't even been born yet.

The Ashburn School of Rock is the rare school that encourages students to bring out their iPods and inner Mick Jaggers. From the outside, one might overlook the inconspicuous building with the green awning that shares an unassuming shopping center with a 7-Eleven and a Chinese restaurant. Then again, even the exterior of Abbey Road Studios belied the musical ingenuity within, and the spirit is certainly alive at the School of Rock.

"We don't dumb down the music at all," said Mary Bowers, the branch assistant at the Ashburn location, whose son Brad plays bass in the School of Rock All-Stars, a collection of the cream of the east coast crop that has performed internationally. "This isn't tot-rock."

Vocal teacher Martha Carrigan added: "You don't want to make it safe for these kids."

Having conquered Nirvana and Soundgarden for September's "Best of the 90s" concert, the students are currently prepping for a series of January shows: a Michael Jackson tribute, a night dubbed "Lord of the Flies" (later renamed "The Inmates are Running the Asylum") and one possible show the kids don't even know about yet.

Drum instructor Bill Grier said the concerts are teachers where “see that your work has come to fruition. This is the most fun job I've ever had. It's a blast."

Guitar instructor Brad Macpherson agreed. "The part that's best for me is when you look at the crowd, the looks on their faces to see what these kids can actually do."

Home to some of the area's most skilled musicians—none of whom have graduated high school—the School's walls are plastered with dozens of posters, T-shirts and magazine covers featuring artists ranging from the Beatles to the Sex Pistols and Madonna to Zappa. In the corner sit a fluffy red couch and a yellow board where students have scribbled drawings and messages—notes as simple as "Katy Perry rocks!" or as profound as "Your instrument is like an amusement park; if you don't know your way around it, you can't have fun!"

"What we hear across the board from parents is, 'I wish they had this when I was young,'" Bowers says. Alas, the Ashburn location has only been around for two years. The genesis of the School of Rock began in Philadelphia in 1998 when Paul Green—the inspiration for Jack Black's Dewey Finn in 2003's "School of Rock" film—felt a need for alternative music education.

Incidentally, Music Director Paul Ottinger claims he's never seen the movie that put the words "School of Rock" on the map. "There's a very good reason," he said with a laugh. "I work here."

Since 2002, more than 60 School of Rock locations have opened across the United States. Most students enjoy the lessons so much they sign on for additional sessions to further master their instruments and build a repertoire of rock anthems and modern hits, jumping from Guns N' Roses' "Sweet Child O' Mine" to Travis McCoy's "Billionaire."

Those two songs are among the highlights scheduled to feature in the student-selected "Inmates" setlist. Ottinger guides the kids through each track in the shadowy rehearsal room, a small, black and red space decked out with still more posters and drawings. Dimly lit by a number of strategically placed lamps, it seems almost intentionally designed to call to mind the garages where so many bands start out.

As "Sweet Child" rehearsals get underway, guitarist Greyson Guthrie, 11, proves unable to play the classic opening riff without stopping short. The guitar work itself is flawless, but Greyson is frustrated with what he's convinced is a malfunctioning wah-wah pedal. Nobody else detects any problem, so Ottinger instructs Greyson not to worry about it. The group plays through a note-perfect rendition of the song, with a powerful vocal from Cacy Hyatt, 11, who can barely reach the microphone yet effortlessly takes control of the performance.

But Greyson is still not satisfied, staying afterwards to take another stab at the pedal problem. With his glasses and short hair, Greyson looks nothing like his idol Slash; but he is well on his way to guitar hero status, especially when he's vindicated in proving to Ottinger that the pedal was indeed problematic. In later rehearsals, older guitar-playing students turn to Greyson for advice and think nothing of it.

"A lot of [the younger kids] are a lot better than they should be at their age," said Spencer LaFever, 15, with a laugh. His smooth, Jack Johnson-influenced vocals are an understated highlight of "Billionaire." "I actually learn from a lot of the younger students."

Perhaps Spencer could give some tips to Greyson as well, if the "I Love Rock 'n' Roll" rehearsal is any indication. Ottinger suggests the elder guitarist contribute a vocal harmony to the song.

"On a scale of one to 10, how would you rate your vocal ability?" Ottinger asks.

"Negative five," Greyson deadpans.

Ottinger is a rock rebel from his ragged baseball cap down to his mismatched socks—"It's how I fight conformity"—and his students know to expect the unexpected from him. "I try to keep these kids on their toes at all times," he says. "I want to throw curveballs at them."

As the kids convene for a House Band rehearsal, Ottinger shares some good news: his band Virginia Coalition is set to play a show at the legendary 9:30 Club in January. The even better news: some of the students will get a shot at auditioning to open for him. The reaction from the students is a mix of ecstatic grins and nervous gulps. Bassist/guitarist Daniel Peters, 16, can't stop his foot from shaking as Ottinger informs everyone that the club was christened in 1996 by no less than the Smashing Pumpkins.

"They played on the stage we're gonna play on," he said, before reminding the students that getting the gig will require both musical ability and stage presence.

"To really be able to give a good performance and still hold down your responsibilities musically is very difficult to do,” Ottinger said.

Caution gives way to excitement though, as everyone eagerly tries to develop a possible set list of iconic classic rock numbers.

"How about Kansas?" Daniel requests.

"We could do 'Carry on Wayward Son,'" Paul agrees, and the rest of the class approves as Daniel triumphantly pumps his fist. His later suggestion of a rock-rap hybrid is not met with quite the same enthusiasm.

After an hour, they land on a list of 11 songs, from artists like the Beatles, Queen and Journey. Ottinger instructs the kids to map out each track, but it's not long before most of the students are goofing off.

"I expect them to be self-starters," Ottinger said. "If I don't see it happening, I'm not gonna put a whole lot of effort into trying to make it happen for them. If they're not going to take advantage of the opportunity, they're going to be left out in the cold. That's a hard lesson but I've got to be willing to let them experience that."

But some students refuse to let that happen.

"I really want to play at the 9:30 Club!" says bassist Shannon Fitzpatrick, 15. "If people don't learn their stuff, I'm gonna flip out on them."

To reinforce the importance of getting priorities straight, Ottinger throws the students one of his trademark curveballs. When they show up expecting to rehearse for "Inmates" one Friday night, they discover they will instead be participating in an off-the-cuff songwriting competition. Each student writes a random word and joins one of four groups. Ottinger assigns each group one of the words and instructs them to build a song around it.

Handful of Rejection consists of some of the younger rockers—Greyson, Cacy, drummer Marin Kuntze, 11, and guitarist Maddy Nortz, 13. That youthful energy serves them well, as their piece comes together quickly. Built on a narrative inspired by an incident in Maddy's gym class earlier that day, Greyson tests some riffs—"dark and metal-ly and mad" at Maddy's insistence—while the girls craft the most ridiculously catchy chorus Joey Ramone never wrote—"Flag football sucks! I hate it so friggin' much!"

Marin pulls up a red office chair to create a makeshift drum kit as Greyson offers the group a heavy, scorching riff. "He's so good at this!" Maddy comments. She's even more awestruck when she learns that Greyson only started playing this year.

Meanwhile, packed in the tiny break room are the Sevens—named after their assigned word—an older group that Ottinger predicts will have little difficulty developing a song. But guitarist Anthony Aiello, 15, guitarist Tyler Melone, 14—"even though I act like I'm two"—singer/drummer Alli Saenz, 15 and singer/keyboardist Emily Volles, 17, struggle to come up with a theme for their piece—at one point, it's 7-Eleven and then it morphs into a player dating seven different girls. The process takes its toll on the increasingly snippy band.

In an effort to lighten the mood, Anthony improvises a light Byrds-y riff but it only seems to worsen the mood. "You should stop because I'm going to fall asleep," Tyler groans. The silence in the room allows them to hear one of the other groups rehearsing in another area. The Sevens appear worried at their competitors' progress, but Tyler isn't impressed. "That sounds really familiar," he says. "I think they plagiarized it."

It takes more than an hour before they settle on the seven deadly sins. Unfortunately, Alli and Tyler can't agree on what they are. After he argues with her list, she sighs, "I hate when people [contradict] what I say. It's really obnoxious," adding, "I like to think I'm always right because I am 90 percent of the time." Pride and sloth have been a recurring theme for the Sevens this evening.

Despite the tension and procrastination, the Sevens develop a cohesive track that would not feel out of place on a Coldplay record. Emily and Alli agree to alternate verses and harmonize on the chorus, but they don't even manage a full rehearsal before Ottinger informs them the deadline has arrived.

"I'm embarrassed to play this, I'm not gonna lie," Alli admits. Anthony agrees, and from the looks on Emily’s and Tyler's faces, so do they.

With everyone convened in the rehearsal room, the showdown begins. After the first two groups, Kentucky Fried Children and Gokul or Go Home—named after their guitarist—offer up the punk rock "Neanderthal" and AC/DC-flavored "Oblivious" respectively, the Sevens are up and already admitting defeat. Emily plays the keyboard intro and walks over to the mic as Anthony strums his opening riff. Alli and Emily begin their vocal tradeoff with ease, suddenly raising the question: what are they going to do if this doesn't turn out to be a complete disaster? What if all the conflict actually resulted in something…good?

It starts to appear that way as the girls' Heart-style vocals perfectly blending with an intoxicating riff, but four verses in, the Sevens prove to be gluttons for punishment.

"I can't stop eating," Emily begins, and seconds later Alli can't stop cracking up. The group breaks down and Ottinger tells them to start over from the next verse. They do, but it quickly disintegrates, and it's obvious to everyone there's no point in the Sevens continuing.

"Thank you whoever gave us seven," Alli says with a mix of sarcasm and apathy.

Handful of Rejection also ends up battling giggles, but their genuinely fun energy causes some of their competitors to clap along with the chorus, sealing their victory. An impressed Ottinger encourages them to play together in the future.

Ultimately, it’s all about fun at the School of Rock, but don’t be surprised by the talent.

Upcoming shows:
Jan. 7-8, 7 p.m.: The Inmates Are Running the Asylum at the Rio Cantina in Sterling
Jan. 15: 9:30 Club
Jan. 21-22: Michael Jackson theme at the Rio in Sterling