It's mid-morning Tuesday but you'd never know it. With the loud music and dark walls, you might think you were in a rock club after midnight.

In the '60s or '70s, maybe.

"Jumpin' Jack Flash" blares from one room. In another, a younger version of Grace Slick belts out the eternal question: "Don't you want somebody to love?" In the main hall, a band breaks into "M-m-m-m-my Sharona."

Welcome to Chicago Joe's Rock 'n Blues Camp at Spring4th Center in Midtown. Musicians 11 to 18 years old come here to spend a summer week honing their skills on bass, guitar, drums and keyboard. Some have never played together before, but Friday night they'll perform on stage in newly created bands of up to six members.

"Guys, guys, stop," pleads music teacher Susan Ottzen to the "My Sharona" group. "We're trying to make a chart for you, and we're almost done."

She and David Robinson, 11, are huddled at a keyboard, pencils in hand, sheets of yellow legal paper spread in front of them, trying to condense 16 pages of musical notes into a single page.

David's background consists mostly of studying classical piano. Although he's new to rock and one of the youngest and smallest students at Chicago Joe's, he's able to hold his own with the high schoolers.

"In truth, we spend more time thinking about music than each other," he says. "In truth, I'm really not intimidated."

Chicago Joe is Joe Jones, an imposing dreadlocked native of the South Side and veteran teacher in both Catholic and public schools.

Four years ago, Micki Gonzalez, a church choir director and the mother of one of Jones' guitar students, urged Jones to start a summer camp for aspiring young musicians. She agreed to take on the administration, and the two became partners.

He appreciates the kids' raw talent and enthusiasm.

"What they're lacking is help and instruction," he says. "I enjoy being able to watch these kids learn and grow."

Case in point: Highway.

That's the name of the four-guy band in the front room: Alex Lotito, Casey Williams, Drew Hart and Joey Ziegler, all of DeKalb County. Joey is 15, the others 16.

Alex and Casey are guitarists and friends from elementary school who met Joey, a drummer, at this camp a couple of years ago. When they needed a bass player for a gig, Chicago Joe hooked them up with Drew. They've been together since 2006, write most of their music, and have cut CDs that are available at Criminal Records.

They used to be called Iron Curtain.

"That was a mistake," Casey says.

"I had no part of that," Drew says.

In a room down the hall from Highway, a newly constituted band called Banana Holster is practicing songs made famous by Etta James, Foo Fighters, Pat Benatar and Jefferson Airplane.

Their lead vocalist, Emma Cooke, gives Slick a run for her money with the rich tones of "Somebody to Love."

Emma, 16, says her father raised her on "everything from Bonnie Raitt to reggae." Her mother found Chicago Joe's camp online when searching for auditions for Emma's other love, musical theater.

Emma has appeared in productions at Kudzu Playhouse and even a Georgia Lottery commercial.

She understands a point Chicago Joe likes to make —- that not every camper will become a rich and famous marquee-name star. She plans to get an education degree in early childhood development and become a teacher, she says. She pauses.

"If I don't get discovered ..."