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(Not to take away from the awesomeness that is the V66 news (and I couldn't fall asleep last night thinking about it), but due to popular demand, I'm posting the following, which was just a bulletin on Myspace that I wrote...
but the writing bug bit me and I just kept going and going....
enjoy?)
Many words thus far have been writ on this competition. And since I've traded in my judges robe for a Victoria's Secret negligee and a small plastic fire engine, I feel I can now come clean and tell all.
It took two shots, two beers and a whole lot of "don't touch me, I'm special" body language to get through last night, and feel comfortable wedged in the corner bar stool, with nary an inch of breathing room.
I found myself having to stroke my special tie often, and repeating those two rules taught to me in rock judge school: "you make things happen", and "you are not one of THEM".
Occasionally, I'd let the sacred words escape my lips, when a "friend" would approach with such Earthling greetings as "Hey, Brian, what's shaking?" or "How you liking this judging thing?" or "That better not be your hand, you..."
Oi!
Space Captain--ain't no secret I like these guys. They provide all sorts of rock, and tonight they seemed to hone in on a Barlowe/Mascis/Loud Music Fest/ "oh my god, I'm 19, it's 1993 and can't wait to graduate college and start playing in bars, even when I'm 35, jesus christ, brian you should be further along in your music career by now, but mom, it's just not that easy, the music scene is an ever changing thing, and anyway it's not just bars I'm playing brian I knew you should have gone into accounting.."
Fuck.
Rabbit Rabbit:
I spied someone in the crowd with Rabbit fur ear muffs screaming "Rabbit Rabbit". I was disturbed, offended, yet laughed a little into my mouth.
"You just got laugh on my pint of Guinness", griped Laurie.
"Don't worry, I'm not contageous, not no more" reckoned me.
So this band, which ended up winning, reminded me of a band that would have supported Wire and The Slits at a gig at the Roxy, London, 1978. My biggest gripe was the drumming made me look to see whether said drummer had not been shot by a stray animal control dart gun. Bears have been spotted in this very parking lot.
I liked the guitar parts, the bass parts, the singers ability to make me remember seeing Tribe at the Paradise in Boston in 1990.
But the drummer, taking a turn at the mic, had to dis the club who had given them their first gig? Punk, but come on....you won the fucking lottery. First gig, a battle of the bands. First gigs= all your friends come. Let's see how you're drawing in a year. I hope you're still drawing, because I dug you.. but you gotta work for it because your friends will get tired of basing their weekends around you. Make some new friends. I know one new friend you made, who almost gave me a mouth full of rabbit fur because I dared say that I wasn't sure if you'd win.
Bi-Polar Bear
Could have, should have done a lot better. I've seen it my own self. My expectations and my disappointment did a tango in my nether-regions. I know at least one friend who went home, or to another bar, after an ear-splitting, and uncalled-for yelp into the mic. The bass player had to re-calibrate the drum machine and place the "one" in new and interesting places to make up for the singer's subconscious desire to have a real drummer present. But that had already happened the previous week.
Spot On
I thought they might win at first, which made me feel weird. I mean, there was one band playing their debut gig, and another band playing (if you combine all the gigs of the old dudes' collective histories) their 4387th gig.
Disclaimer: I am pretty much an old dude who has played 4276 gigs.
They were tight as a ___________ (enter whatever)
Then the drummer screwed up the Modern Lovers' "Roadrunner", an easy-ass song that most people worth their punk cred know in their sleep. And he got called on it! By the singer! Hmm....,maybe laugh it off in the future.
Still, I dug, much like I dug their Sierra gig. But a friend reminded me of my getting clocked in the kneecap by a passing hard-shell drum case because I was having a conversation in the wrong place after the show. Ouch.
Prescription America
My ears were starting to jade all over Lord Russ, so I was glad this was melodic and sensitive.
And boy how i love that Beach Boys song they did (I'd Love Just Once to See You in the Nude--best. and compare the bridge with the Velvets' "Who Loves the Sun").
Not enough true emotion for being the final band. I bet if P.A. and Space Captain had drawn different time slots, well, a tree frog in Alabama would have eaten one fewer spiders, I wouldn't have bummed a cigarette from Mike, and Michelle Phillips would have a whole new reason to live. Oh, and perhaps, perhaps the results would have been diff.
I had fun, I did. I loved every moment. I'm only being frank because Sheehan did it first.
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