Outcast or trendsetter, chasing a dream

LAWRENCE -- Rock once got Franklin Nuñez kicked out of school.

Back in the Dominican Republic, where he attended middle school, Nuñez was booted out after classmates complained to school officials that he was becoming a "devil worshiper." The young Nuñez dressed differently, let his hair grow, and listened to music that sounded nothing like salsa, merengue, or reggaeton.

But Nuñez, now 21 , was hardly a follower of Satan. One of his favorite bands at the time was Mana, the poppy Spanish rock group from Mexico. The way he saw it, classmates and school officials just didn't know how to handle someone who didn't "fit in."

Today, Nuñez, whose family later moved to Lawrence, is still a heavy metal outcast. Only this time, it's something he embraces and practices. And so do four other guys with similar backgrounds who, with Nuñez, make up the metal band Heretic Hybrid .

In this majority Latino immigrant city where merengue and reggaeton clubs dominate the night scene, hard-core metal heads are often viewed as outsiders, and Latino hard-core metal heads are seen as down right strange or simply white boys trapped in Latino bodies.

That's OK for the members of Heretic Hybrid , all former Lawrence High students whose families are from the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico but who have grown up in the United States. While others point and whisper, this group of guys punches and yells, playing gigs across the state.

In the three years or so the band has been around, its members have developed an underground following of fans just as they are trying to perfect their repertoire of songs. They know that their music and style doesn't fit the popular East Coast Latino persona of urban culture. But they feel they are onto something new as more second-generation Latinos enter the mainstream and try to bridge two worlds.

"It's worth the harassment," says Nuñez .

Some of the band members, like guitarist Leo Bobadilla , 21 , hold down full-time jobs. Others, like guitarist Andy De La Rosa , 20 , are full-time students. Yet all have the same dream: They want to record a CD together and tour the country.

Heretic Hybrid's journey began like many young bands: on a karaoke machine. In high school, De La Rosa and bassist Eddie Rosa , now 20 , started experimenting with hard rock on the machine working on covers and their own music. The two played their music in De La Rosa's basement.

"It sounded really, really bad," Rosa remembered.

Then Nuñez joined, learning the drums as they experimented. "It still sounded bad," said Rosa. "It sounded bad for a really long time."

Over time, the band transformed noise into music, eventually catching the attention of Bobadilla, who was "in between" bands. He was followed by Raphael Fiore , the band's eventual lead vocalist. Within a few weeks, the clan was perfecting what would become a signature song, "Rise." The lyrics of "Rise" tackle what is a recurring subject for Heretic Hybrid -- fighting off the shackles of the past and reinventing a future.

"It's too late/to cover the up mess that we've made/a broken a candle in my hand/the broken vision of a man/I've come down from where I belong."

For Fiore, now 20 , it wasn't hard fitting in with the band, though he didn't know how to play like the others. All he had to do was learn how to direct his passion and lyrics. "I like to scream," said Fiore. "It gets words out. But with more" feeling.

Their first live gig was none other than a stage at Lawrence High during a talent show. After a slew of hip-hop dancing performances, the band started pushing amps onto the stage as a curious audience looked on. "We didn't know how people would react," said Rosa. "Everyone just stopped."

"They got into it," said Nuñez.

After the first song, the audience was pumped. Girls jumped on the stage and others from the hallway ventured in to see what was happening. "I was like, 'Either they're just wondering what . . . is going on, or they really like it, ' " Rosa said.

Following the performance, word started spreading around school about the band. But more importantly, band members started seeing fellow metal heads come out of the closet, wearing T-shirts of metal bands and openly discussing rock. "We woke the school up," Nuñez said. "It was awesome. I wish someone would have done that for me."

Since that first experience, the band has tried to re-create that moment at clubs around the state. From Haverhill to Boston, Heretic Hybrid has played for packed rooms and empty floors. That's fine, said Rosa, because the band is taking everything as a learning experience.

To get its name out, the band has also created a MySpace Web page where users can hear samples of their work. The site often posts fliers of coming performances and messages from fans.

De La Rosa said he thinks the next stage for the band is to sign with a record label.

Bobadilla said he's looking forward to the next chapter, especially if he gets to tour and quit his regular job. "I'm not afraid to lose a job. I've lost six or seven jobs because of my music," said Bobadilla.

Does that bother him?

"When I'm broke, it bothers me," he said.

For Nuñez, it's all about chasing dreams and proving naysayers wrong.

Just recently, a former teacher told him he wasn't going to amount to anything unless he attended college.

"I felt insulted and offended," said Nuñez. "But I'd rather die broke and happy following my dreams."

Russell Contreras can be reached at rcontreras@globe.com. Samples of Heretic Hybrid are at boston.com/globe/northwest.