Idol Threats: a review of a battle of the bands from the perspective of a Guest Judge

by Rudy Sizzle

Something told me that I was not from around here. I drove up towards the "Hard Rock Cafe" in downtown Niagara Falls, NY and felt like I took a wrong turn into a nightmare I had about once accidentally driving into a building and then realizing I was doomed to actually drive off of Niagara Falls and never be seen again. I recall the dream quite vividly. Me, my sweet little "Stella" (a 2008 Pontiac Vibe) going over the great Wonder of the World, disappearing into the mist at the bottom forever. When I awoke, I am pretty sure I had almost pissed myself. Sometimes drinking too much water before bed and watching movies about drowning will do that to you.

Why do I not dabble in some "guilty pleasures" audibly speaking? Like, what's so terrible about "Ke$ha" and why am I too good to find "Maroon 5" awesome? Well, it's because I am a musician and I have standards. I cannot “settle in and saddle up” for a joy ride with the likes of Miley and Adele. Sure, they are gems in their own minds and the world’s rewarding them with success they totally and undoubtedly worked very hard for.

Perhaps our culture has stalled out and stuck in "mediocre" gear. I am not sure if Triple A is coming to give us a jump any time soon either. The Battle of the Bands I was invited to be a guest judge at in Niagara Falls, NY on Thursday February 16th did not dissuade me from feeling hopeless about the future dirge of mediocrity in the local scene. Plus it made me realize that the term "Hard Rock" is totally strange and perhaps more meant to mean, "Pretty loud," or "Kinda loud." Or I have no idea what "Hard Rock really means," just order some food and buy some rock n' roll memorabilia already…

First off, I was invited by the opening band of this quadruple band battle, the Screaming Jeans. I need to fully disclose this: they invited me as they seem to dig my music and respect my opinion. I think it may also because none of their other friends were willing to take the trip as it was a Thursday in February and it was kind of a weird scene to end up in.

Regardless, I got fed lots of booze and could've eaten some of HRC's finest cuisine, if I so felt inclined. I did not know this ahead of time though, so I was only indulging on free booze. It was cool to sit at high tables amongst the other "judges" of the battle. I felt like I was given a secret word to enter the VIP room on a cruise ship or the back room at a bar where the good drugs and weird sex is happening. But really, it just meant that I was stuck to endure a night of relatively tame music.

The Screaming Jeans kicked off the battle and were initially thrown off by some weird sound-related issues. The sound person seemed disinterested in this event, plus I am not sure if he knew exactly what was going on. I assume he was the regular engineer for the venue, but maybe he was the back up. Regardless, SJ sounded a bit off their normal well balanced mark right out of the gates and it threw their live energy out of whack. It was odd watching them seem a bit more self conscious about their live stage levels than usual, I am pretty sure the crowd may have noticed it, but regardless, the band pulled off their trademark brand of catchy guitar pop a la the Pixies/The Strokes well enough to earn applause and props from the other fellow judges on the panel sitting next to me. I would have chosen them to win, not just because I like them as people and a band, but because they were really the only "authentic" sounding band that night.

Up next were Google-proof rockers The Path. From their name, it was clear they were "straight shooting," normal rock. Parental Rock. Really something that would go well with a shot of Jack and a Bud. You know, not so much rock as it is-- roll me into a fire and let me stoke a bit. It was pretty much like being hit with a wet and muddy sock in the face while playing Tetris on a Gameboy, while camping with your asshole significant other to make them happy on their birthday.

I can’t say that The Path was totally terrible. As far being a band, they evidently had a "style" and "sound". All black outfits, with a relatively friendly and portly lady singer with a 5 or 6 note vocal range belting out very awkwardly juvenile lyrics about things that seemed vague enough to pen on the inside of a box of "get well" or "thinking of you" cards.

At times, the image of Jerri Blank from Strangers with Candy came to mind, which instantly made watching the Path kind of funnier than it should have been. I felt like a jerk thinking this, but it was a necessity to get through their snooze fest of a set-- middle of the road tunes all the way. The crowd was nonplussed too, mostly their brood of local support hooting and occasionally hollering for them when one of their banal riff-laced bluesy rock jams climaxed and then fell back into a blustery mid tempo groove. They felt stiff and aside from the bassist’s sweet black beret, they were as normal as one can imagine a band named the Path can get.

Thirdly was a band that was called The Eric Van Houten Band. The fellow "guest" judge sitting to my right was apparently invited by Eric Van Houten himself as they were once band mates. He had a lot of nice things to say about his former mate, stating that he was "doing his own thing now" and he pledged his support like any good friend would. It was nice, I really hoped for something to catch onto, perhaps this would be a surprise and we'd both share a beer while Eric's band tore it up. But alas, Eric Van Houten and band were a mish-mash of bland radio friendly, teen drama ready, Cheese Whiz 101. It could not have been any clearer to me at this moment that something is wrong with American pop culture once they started in on their last few tunes of the night, referencing "Jesus" and evoking the term "Country" as if it were a buzz word to get more oxygen pumped into the room so that nobody would suffocate.

The musicianship of the EVH band was standard issue with Eric singing his heart out like a karaoke contest winner and his female counterpart lead singer (who looked like she was wearing an outfit that would've been part of a color guard or elementary school jazz dance recital) belting out off key and out of tempo phrases. The "lead" guitarist soloed in every song, sometimes twice.

The drummer looked Randy "Macho Man" Savage (which was awesome), managing to hold down the fort, while the teenage bassist seemed to be having a blast showing off his newly honed skills on his 5 string bass, sometimes making the rhythm of a song seem more interesting than it really was. They were bland, but people seemed to be there in numbers to see them, so perhaps I am totally missing something here. Or perhaps I did not drink the Kool Aid.

Closing out the night was Whiskey Reverb. Having played a show with them a while back, I had an idea as to what to expect and knew they stood a chance of winning this thing. Not because they are technically "good", but because they are totally into their band. They love it. Probably like a mom loves their new born infant. They coddle it, coo it, breast feed it and even love to change it's diapers. It's kind of a weird thing to see a band be so into being a band, but it also makes me like them. Not for the music, but for their devotion to themselves.

I have never been able to do that. I stew in self defeat and constantly feel like I am wasting my time with my bands and music. These dudes are totally the opposite. They take all of their influences and blend them into a weird funky sound. It's like 311, Incubus, Staind & Red Hot Chili Peppers, all getting together to play hide and seek in weird enchanted forest filled with psychedelic mushrooms and cough syrup waterfalls.

It's weird to think that this may be the next level of what I used to affectionately call "Rapcore" or "NuMetal", but alas, it may very well be. The audience they brought out seemed to love them, with people performing back flips in front of us at the judging station and even a quasi dance party happening in front of the stage. It was sad to behold, since it was really 20 people they knew giving it their all to show that they too loved Whiskey Reverb like it was their own baby to be swaddled and rocked gently to sleep.

I was on my 5th drink at this point, totally feeling good and not really paying as much attention to Whiskey Reverb's musical performance as I was the cute girls they brought out with them and also how weird the "rapper" in the band looked, reminding me of Lil' Kev from Always Sunny in Philadelphia. And just like the ending of that episode, Lil' Kev got the last laugh and thus Whiskey Reverb won the battle. I was not surprised in the least. At least they love their band more than Jesus.