Dancing About Architecture No. 2
What Price Victory?
Words: Scott Harrell

Hey, you know what sucks? Every Battle of the Bands, ever.

This isn't the bitter sour-grapes cry of a musician who's never won one. This is the informed opinion of a musician who's never bothered to enter one, because I've never seen them as a shortcut to anything other than self-loathing, and maybe some free gear that isn't as good as the gear I've already got.

Most of you reading this, players and fans alike, already know that the Battle of the Bands is a bullshit farce. This is more for those young men and women just starting to play out, and for their friends, and for anybody in or peripherally associated with a mediocre hard rock or metal band. It's for the new kids on the block because their inexperience might lead them to buy into the false promises of exposure or “professional studio production” offered by some Battle of the Bands or other. It's for their friends for the same reason – they might think it's a good idea, and mention it to some fresh-faced group that, bless their innocent hearts, didn't even know a Battle of the Bands was even going on.

And it's for the mediocre hard rock and metal bands (and their girlfriends, and managers, and pot dealers) because, for some reason, every Battle of the Bands attracts mediocre hard rock and metal bands like ska attracts ridicule.

Listen to me, you guys:

Don't do it. No matter how good an idea entering any Battle of the Bands may seem, don't do it.

The Battle of the Bands is a slithering, duplicitous menace mocking everything that makes music an act of creative expression, that sets it apart from a karaoke contest or the Wet T-Shirt Jug-Off down at Rowdy's. I'm not condemning those things out of hand, but they're sure as hell never gonna be art, and original music always has at least the potential to be received as such. Playing live is by its nature a communal thing; organized competition is by its nature divisive. There's nothing wrong with getting amped to smoke another band on the bill, but that's something we do for ourselves, for fun and feeling. Doing it for a shot at six free hours in Room B of the Record Mill only cheapens it.

The Battle of the Bands should be disparaged, boycotted, wiped from existence for that reason alone, on principle. But if that's not enough, if you're still willing to do the monkey dance in exchange for the chance to put your next CD out on Sleazy's Non-Distributed Basement Records, then consider this: Even winning a Battle of the Bands is always – ALWAYS – the very definition of the term “Pyrrhic victory” – it always costs more than it's worth.

Here are five reasons why:

You're going to get used.
Companies don't sponsor a Battle of the Bands because they're actively seeking the Next Best Thing; they do it because they're actively seeking an advertising angle and credibility and free entertainment for the party with their name all over it. And they'll always get more out of the event than the bands that play.

You're going to torture your fans.
Most of the acts willing to play a Battle of the Bands – hell, most of the acts that make it to the finals in a Battle of the Bands – suck. I know that irony is fun and all that, but everything has its limits. Have some empathy; you shouldn't be willing to make your supporters sit through several hours' worth of acts even worse than yours just because their hoarse, half-interested hooting might be your key to a free guitar that looks like a vampire bat. Which leads us to the next thing ...

The prizes.
Opening for Papa Roach? Playing at 10 a.m. on the last day of a festival that peaked two nights earlier – with Dokken? A recording contract with Reindeer Records? You can't argue that these things sound ludicrous in hindsight. What you need to realize is, the ultimate prize being dangled in front of you right now by some Battle of the Bands is going to sound every bit as middling and pointless 15 months down the road. (Read: it sounds middling and pointless to everybody who's not in your band right now.)

You're basically beating up on the defenseless and ignorant.
I'm going to paraphrase my favorite line from the movie Waiting: Winning a Battle of the Bands is like being the smartest kid with Down Syndrome. I'm not making fun of a disease, I'm just saying, wow, you sure did out-rock Tony & The Sharks and PaneSnake and Oktober Bruze. You should be proud. Unless you get beat by a bunch of untalented but extremely popular teenagers, which you definitely might, because ...

If you've been out of high school longer than ten minutes, you're fucked.
That emo combo from Dunedin's got 200 kids and the Debate Club's parents warming up their influential lungs. Where's your cheering section? Oh, yeah – they're working, or away at college, or married. Right on.

Helluva career shortcut, innit?