So I really ripped and snorted and threw my horns around about the Spring Rally yesterday. I was completely torqued off, so you can just file it under Angry TFG and forget about it if you want. But I’ve thought about it a little bit, and realize that I might have come off a tad strong about the metal-heads. Let’s get that out of the way first and foremost, shall we? As a man who’s listened to everything under the sun, I have no business bitching about a form of music. While it has been some years since I stood next to the Marshall stacks with my devil horns in the air, there was once a time when I enjoyed that guitared-up sound. I never quite got the growly voice deal, but I grew up with Robert Plant’s little-girl falsetto singing me to sleep through my Radio Shack headphones, OK? Point being this, as long as you’re out paying for live music, you’re my buddy and my pal, and I’ll mostly buy you a beer. I might buy it long-distance with a credit card, because honestly, son, I’ve done been through the metal/punk mixer and I’m not interested in doing it again.
No, what gets my back up the most is that the FW Press, through their advertising and marketing, made it seem like the bands I wanted to hear were co-equals with the thrashers. And they weren’t, not by a long, long shot. They were stuck off on a smaller stage about as far as you could get from the main stage, under an awning. Even that would have been semi-OK, as they did have a hot-dog / beer stand right next to it, with trash cans and everything. The problem was this: from the time I got there, to the time I left, the volume of sound from the main-stage, chock full of metal, absolutely overwhelmed the bands on the second stage. Literally the only time I could ENJOY these bands was between acts on the main stage. The rest of the time, it bled over so badly that it became a joke to the bands trying to perform. The sponsors of that stage couldn’t even get a word in edgewise over the deafening sounds of metal.
So, here’s the deal. FW Press needs to decide what they want to be when they grow up. Blues, rockabilly, metal, Americana, western, fill-in-the-blank. Doesn’t matter. Not even if you want to mix all that up and throw it out there like a big old gumbo and expect people to deal. Because, most of us will, you know. Even the families pushing baby buggies will find a quiet corner during the 45-minute death metal set. But somebody over there needs to learn to respect #1, the musicians doing the job, and #2, the fans coming out that pay the freight. That’s why I was so damn mad I could have chewed nails last night — the lack of respect. I’m not passing judgement on the music or the musicians who play it or the fans who like it and come out to see it, but I’m Guns of Navarone pissed at the planners.
Having said that, of course, yours truly would like to see Panther City embracing the music that made Panther City famous. My hometown of Dallas hasn’t the first clue about what they are or where they came from, and it shows. You, on the other hand, have a built-in advantage, even if you screwed it up royally this weekend. By giving Thrift Store Cowboys and Rose County Fair and 1100 Springs and Scott Copeland short shrift, you missed an unbelievable opportunity to work that advantage. Maybe all that alternative paper baloney went to your head, I don’t know.
And having said that, I hope it was a success. Live music is what it’s all about, and FW Press deserves a small golf-clap, even from me, for at least attempting to put something together for the good people of Panther City. Next time, though, give ol’ TFG a call about scheduling.
