Posted by Few artists have successfully bridged the worlds of hard rock and country music quite like Aaron Lewis. Best known as the unmistakable voice of Staind, Lewis began exploring a more intimate, acoustic style in the late 2000s before officially launching his solo country career with Town Line in 2011. I had the opportunity to cross paths with Aaron during both chapters of his career while serving as Entertainment Manager at Seneca Niagara Casino & Hotel.
In June 2010, Aaron performed a highly anticipated solo acoustic show in the intimate setting of The Bear’s Den Showroom. At the time, he was transitioning away from full-time rock touring and beginning to introduce audiences to the stripped-down storytelling that would soon define his solo career.
I was still settling into my role as Entertainment Manager and becoming more comfortable introducing myself to artists. As luck would have it, Aaron’s dressing room was just down the hallway from my office. I stopped by to welcome him and ask if there was anything he needed before the show.
We exchanged a few words, but he was busy speaking with his tour manager, so I simply let him know that my office was right down the hall if anything came up.
About ten minutes later, there was a knock at my office door.
Aaron stood there smiling.
“Got any gum?”
Unfortunately, I had to disappoint him—I didn’t have any. I invited him in anyway, and we spent several minutes talking. He was incredibly gracious and made a point of telling both my boss and me how impressed he was with our staff. He complimented our team’s professionalism and remarked how smoothly everything, especially soundcheck, had gone.
It was a simple conversation, but one that left a lasting impression.
As Aaron’s solo career exploded in popularity, he would return to the Seneca properties several times over the years. This time, however, he had outgrown the intimate Bear’s Den and was filling the much larger Events Center with his rapidly growing country audience.
Not long after his acoustic tour, Aaron reunited with Staind to record and release the band’s self-titled 2011 album. The reunion tour brought a full-scale rock production back to Seneca, and my responsibilities shifted from artist hospitality to overseeing the venue’s production preparations.
By then, my role involved advancing technical riders and coordinating with our production staff to ensure everything—from lighting trusses and speaker systems to staging and electrical requirements—was ready before the tour rolled into town.
As often happens with touring productions, a few challenges surfaced during load-in.
The production manager requested shore power for the tour buses, something our facility simply wasn’t equipped to provide. He also pushed to replace our in-house speaker system with the touring rig, despite our system being more than capable of handling the performance. We had discussed these limitations well in advance, so I politely but firmly stood by what had already been agreed upon.
At one point, he attempted to escalate the matter above me. My supervisor reaffirmed the venue’s position, and the conversation ended there.
Later that afternoon, the production manager found me backstage.
He apologized.
I accepted without hesitation. I explained that there were no hard feelings, although I admitted I was disappointed to learn he’d also approached another department in hopes of finding a way around the venue’s decision regarding shore power. He acknowledged that it hadn’t been the right approach, and we shook hands.
A short time later, the tour manager also stopped by to apologize for the misunderstandings. He complimented the professionalism of our team and made it clear he hoped none of the day’s challenges reflected negatively on Aaron or the band.
I assured him they didn’t.
In fact, I mentioned that Aaron and I had met during his previous solo appearance and had gotten along quite well.
He smiled politely, though I’m not entirely convinced he believed me.
As we continued talking with our in-house audio engineer, the band walked onto the stage and began tuning their instruments.
A few moments later, Aaron looked out into the theater.
He spotted me standing several rows back in the center aisle.
Without hesitation, he pointed in my direction and shouted across the room,
“ROOOB!! How the hell are ya?“
I glanced over at the production manager.
The expression on his face was priceless.
At that moment, I think he realized I hadn’t been exaggerating when I said Aaron and I had already met.
From that point forward, everything changed.
The tension that had filled the room all afternoon disappeared, communication became effortless, and the remainder of the day unfolded exactly the way every production hopes it will—smoothly, professionally, and without another issue.
It’s funny how one brief conversation over a stick of gum a year earlier could build enough familiarity to turn a hectic production day into just another successful show.
Sometimes, that’s what happens beyond the spotlight.
Long Island Sounds 