Hey rock starsâget off your ass and send in a column for The BAND. If you have 350 words of funny/smart insight into playing music in this city, send them to theband@thestranger.com.
I may be naive, because I still believe in Bono, and I still believe that music is an art.
I realize that art and commerce get into bed together, but I like to pretend they met innocently, at a grocery store, wearing sweatpantsâinstead of in a Belltown disco, tarted up and reeking of Hugo Boss. And so, armed with naivetĂ© and righteous indignation, Iâm lashing out. My target? Cover bandsâand you as well, Iâm afraid.
There is a glut of original bands in this city, but you wouldnât know. Youâre out on Saturday to see that new Edie Brickell âtributeâ band.
Iâm referring, of course, to the unnerving trend of cover bands, who (unlike dear old Hit Explosion) are not content to perform the gamut of hackneyed wedding-reception fodder, but purposefully limit themselves to the imitation of one speciïŹc âartistâ from our nightmarish past.
Thatâs ïŹne.
Parkerâs or the Emerald Queen will always need someone to play the downstairs bar. But what? The Sunset on a FRIDAY? The Crocodile on a SATURDAY?
These shows, at these venues, are what every local band aspires to play. Weâve all played Tuesdays at midnight for ïŹve people, or at a frightening dive in Pioneer Square to restless frat boys gagging for nĂŒ metalâall because we want YOU to hear us.
I donât blame the bookers; their job is to ïŹll the place up.
I donât really blame these pseudo-groups. Itâs just a job, much like their present job, working at Guitar Center, impressing the clientele with their jazzy rendition of âEvenïŹow.â
I blame you, dear consumer, for being mired in the past and afraid of the future.
Itâs not even as risky as it used to be to see a new band, when youâd pay your $8 and hope for the best. Thanks to the dual axis of Internet MP3s and Audioasis, you can usually hear these bands before you go see them.
So get out there and support your local artistsânot the people cashing in on your nostalgia.
Thanks,
Martin
The Taurus Pedals
www.thetauruspedals.com