Somewhere in another dimension, a 16-year-old version of myself is doing bench presses in hormonal frustration.
Everything around me looks like my least favorite parts of the 90’s had a nightmare. And then that nightmare took a shit. Ravers and Renaissance Faire nerds milling about in such close proximity to one another is a weird juxtaposition even by my standards. I felt the need to go straight to the bar in a desperate attempt to make sense of it all.
I’m glad I’m not on drugs. I’m not even really here to see the headliner, Beats Antique. I’m here to support a good friend in a belly dance troupe (Rose Movement Studios) that will be performing as direct support (that’s the people who play just before the headliner, for my friends unacquainted with showspeak).
Of course the dancers perform nearly flawlessly, but they only do one dance, and I guess I was expecting more? Before I knew it, it was time for the last band of the night.
I’m having fun, but there’s a lot about this show that’s pissing me off. Not least of all the backing track that the band is playing to.
Sorry, guys. There’s a musician in the crowd.
I understand it takes a lot of practice to get tight to a click track (you might wanna have your drummer do some homework in that tempo degradation at the end of that one tune). But it just ain’t gen-u-wine, fellas. Least not in my own humble opinion.
I would say that I hate to be judgmental, (why the hell else would anybody read this piece of shit?) but I am.
You dudes are enviable multi-instrumentalists, but you would be fu-double up-fuck fucked if it weren’t for the girls you have out front dancing and cajoling the audience.
Everybody loves a carnival. And you definitely provided that. But from a musician’s perspective…tight you may be, but you’re fuckin Milli Vanilli.
Now before I get too hard on Beats Antique, let me just say I love a good live show.
I see a lot of preparation, but the main thing I see is investment. Y’all pour money in the right places to make an enjoyable show for the 17-44 age demographic who harbor an appreciation for free love and mental exploration (best of all facilitated by hallucinogens, of course).
And there’s nothing wrong with that.
But I’ve been in the studio on and off for three weeks working on an insanely challenging record that I might never be satisfied with. So I’m sorry if I’m the sore thumb here, but I see the kinks. I know the game. And y’all are fuckin lazy.