Why would we take a break from our original bands to play in a "pseudo-group" (aka a tribute band)--when we could sit on our high horse bemoaning the lost innocence of art? Hmmmm, let's see.
Your show: After calling for months, you book a Tuesday by lying about your anticipated crowd.
Our show: We call once and describe our "act." They laugh and book us for a Saturday.
Your show: You call and beg everyone you know to come watch you "headline" at midnight on a school night. Two people show up.
Our show: We call no one. A crowd of 300 shows up.
Your show: You sing excerpts from your diary while staring at your feet. You end the song, tear on cheek, to clinking glasses. Your girlfriend stops talking to applaud alone.
Our show: We play songs that someone else wrote, and the audience sings along. Girls run onstage to be spanked and flash their breasts.
Your show: Afterward, the club presents their payout invoice showing that after paying for sound and posters, you made nothing. Your girlfriend holds you while you complain.
Our show: We make great money, which we immediately squander on a coked-out boozefest with our fans. Our girlfriends hold the video camera.
Your show: We have all been there, and probably will be again.
Our show: Reminds us that we started playing music to have fun. We learn that people have grown bored with hipster angst and want to be entertained. The nostalgia we exploit isn't for the bands, but for the time when it was cool to enjoy yourself.
While you're feeling high on righteous indignation (and who hasn't?), consider this: Symphony orchestras are cover bands. Jazz musicians improvise over cover tunes. Even Van Halen started out as a cover band. It is heartbreaking to put your soul on the line and not succeed. We feel for you. Rather than taking the blame for not promoting yourself aggressively, we agree that it is better to blame the fans. Stupid, stupid fans--you suck!