Thou Shalt Not Cover

When I was growing up, mostly due to the influence of my father, I listened almost exclusive to music from the 60's. I had most of the Beatles catalog memorized by age 10, knew that any mention of Otis Redding should be prefaced by "the late, great" and was ready to debate anyone about who was the greatest blind piano man of that era. While this created a solid foundation on which to build my musical tastes, it didn't lead to many live music opportunities. All the bands I listened to were either broken up, mostly dead, reformed but beyond recognition, or charging $2/minute to hear how thirty years of sex, drugs, and rock and roll can ravage vocal cords. My music taste really didn't expand until college, when I finally began attending concerts.

I may never be able to top my sophomore year. The combination of easy classes, few expenses, and friends with cars lent itself wonderfully to seeing whatever band was in town. I've been fortunate enough to see some truly memorable shows in all sorts of venues, and have rarely been disappointed.

Friday I was disappointed.

A Wisconsin-born friend of mine suggested that we see The Gufs at The Nomad. I really didn't have anything better to do, and at least it was an opportunity to visit a venue that I had been hearing good things about for a while. I didn't have an opinion on The Gufs, and after seeing them live still don't, though to understand their appeal I need to better understand the Tim Mahoney phenomenon.

The venue was what one would imagine a world pub to be; slightly art-deco divey with beer and bar food from around the world. The sound system was bad, but with barely enough room on the stage for a drum kit, I wasn't expecting much. If only the sound system was the worst part of the night.

I have no desire to be in an opening band. By definition, hardly anyone is there to see you, few pay attention to what you play, and if you do get lots of attention it is often the wrong kind. The unholy trinity of horrible (but not good-horrible) cover songs got my attention.

Covering a song, especially a well known song, can be a delicate task. There are generally a few paths to follow when choosing a song to cover, and choosing a method in which to cover a song. The safest may be to cover a song that has already been covered so many times that no one will care. "Free Bird" or any Dave Matthews Band song from the mid-90s fall into this category. Another option is to cover a song much in the same way the song was originally performed, allowing a bands unique vocals and instruments to enhance the original. Of course, it इस also possible to completely reinterpret a song to such a degree that it nearly becomes its own entity. Finally, there is the option to unapologetically butcher an already terrible song to the point that it becomes tolerable.

There are of course songs that should not be covered. Songs by the greatest band ever, dead people, and current and immensely more talented bands fall under this category. On Friday night, patrons of The Nomad were inundated by the Beatles "She Said, She Said," "Last Goodbye," and "Shot in the Arm." The most truly impressive thing about these covers is that they all sounded the same. Thankfully the excessively buzzy bass, over amplified guitar, and muddied vocals had already damaged my hearing enough that at I was a least somewhat protected from these musical sins.

While the music was truly ghastly, the worst part of the night was that the band never said their name. Doesn't every opening band know that they are required by law to mention their band name at least a dozen times, and that they have CDs for sale in back a dozen times more? If they had at least done that, I wouldn't be so worried about accidentally hearing them play again।


EDIT:
Thanks to the power of google, you too can hear the worst band ever, "Empire Garrison". I hope you have some ear plugs...