Who’s Crying Now?

Don’t Stop Believin’: Every Man’s Journey
directed by Ramona S. Diaz
Game 7 Films

Journey. Rock band. Singer leaves, replaced by rabid Journey fan from the Philippines. What a story –– perhaps the single most compelling lead-singer-replacement tale in all of rock & roll. You don’t have to be a fan of the band to find Don’t Stop Believin’: Every Man’s Journey an appealing film. In fact, you can dislike Journey intensely and still find a sort of redemption in the jubilant humanism that permeates the picture, frame by frame. (Or you can remain a cynic and attack the band from a critical standpoint. History will eventually sort out whether the band even deserves a footnote in the chronology and importance of all things rock & roll.)

Journey had done well with original vocalist Steve Perry’s replacement Steve Augeri, who toured and recorded with the band for years until poof! his voice inexplicably gave up the ghost. The Journey catalog is possibly the most vocally demanding in all of rock, forcing the male voice to go places few non-castrati have gone before. Now, they needed a new singer, had an album planned and didn’t want to go the obvious route of inserting a singer from one of dozens of Journey tribute bands. What to do?

Founding member Jonathan Cain scoured the net and came up with bupkus, until a desperate, final search yielded one Arnel Pineda from Manila. Search over. Schon emailed Pineda, who thought he was being punked. Journey’s manager thought he was being punked when the band told him they’d found a lead singer from Manila. Next stop: plane ticket to the U.S. of A.

Unfortunately, Pineda’s mediocre audition due to stress, jet lag and fatigue failed to convince the entire band. But a week of studio work saw the singer’s game up and running and, voila, here’s Steve Perry being channeled with gusto and uncanny authenticity. Even the Journey vocal coach gave Pineda his blessing: They had found “The One.” Major press coverage ensued, including a segment on The Ellen Show, and of course the Philippines was hit big-time by the heroic impact of their very own Typhoon Arnel. One of many touching scenes features Pineda stepping out the backstage door at L.A.’s Greek Theater, where he’s quickly spotted by excited Filipino fans, and the exchange is just delightful.

Some of the band’s fan base expressed doubts, however, particularly those who never warmed to Augeri and thought it blasphemy to have anyone but Steve Perry on lead vocals. The pressure was on to prove Arnel wasn’t just some karaoke singer plucked from the bars. Arnel tells of “the expectation of thousands of people in front of you,” the doubts, the Journey fan Schadenfreude inherent in such an exalted position. And this being America, naturally racism rears its ugly, toothless head, along with the complications of mounting arena rock shows and dealing with the most difficult person in all of rock & roll: the band manager, who heaps on double rations of undeserved grief.

Today, music critics often dismiss Journey, calling them a crass sell-out act who betrayed their legit rock roots and “went commercial” at the behest of their record label, and some accuse the band of capitalizing on the big-bucks arena machine by planting mere Steve Perry impersonators into the revolving lead-singer’s chair. While there may well be some truth to these claims –– even the band questions the legitimacy of their scheme –– the Journey crew have come to the conclusion that they have a real good reason to carry on: the exuberant joy on the faces of their cross-generational fans.
–– Roy Rogers Oldenkamp