Trying to make it big in a different music landscape

Los Angeles

IT HAD been five shows in five states in the past nine days, and now Mario Cuomo and his band mates slouched in patio chairs outside an unfamiliar bungalow, giving no hint of the huge stakes of the backyard gig they were about to play. They sipped tequila and vodka from red plastic cups. They fiddled with their phones. None of them seemed worried that their bassist was missing, last seen earlier at the motel. "He thought we were coming back for him," said Cuomo, the lead singer. "But nah."

Although they were playing it cool, Cuomo and the others knew this could be a pivotal moment in their careers. Most of the people pouring into the back yard were not ordinary fans. Some had probably never even heard of their rock band, The Orwells. But this parade of hip T-shirts, skinny jeans and untucked button-downs represented a powerful group: they licensed songs for films, TV, ads and video games. And in an era when few people buy music, a show such as this was vital, maybe even more valuable than a record deal. "We've got to license some stuff today," Cuomo, 23, said to guitarist Dominic Corso as they watched the crowd grow. "It's business, Dom. LA is all business."