|
There's
an old cliché that says imitation is the sincerest
form of flattery. In the doppelgänger world of tribute bands,
imitation is pretty much the name of the game. In Like
a Rolling Stone: The Strange Life of a Tribute Band, Steven
Kurutz profiles this curious underworld of tribute musicians—who
they are, who they love, and why they're an acceptable, aspartame-ridden
substitute for extravagant rock 'n' roll circus shows.
It's
not a stretch to believe that at one point in many people's
lives, being a rock star was a central and defining goal.
Whether for fame, fortune, or the sheer ecstasy of being at
the very top of one's leather-pleated, bling-sporting game,
the allure can be magnetic and addictive. Many people outgrow
the urge, moving on with life and enjoying the high art of
spectator rock 'n' roll; others form modest derivations, becoming
a creative entity of their own to be admired and copied. Still
others, driven perhaps by a great love and admiration of a
particular band, find meager success in the unique theater
of simulation.
Kurutz
spends a year on the road in this unique theater with the
constantly-revolving lineups of two of the most popular Rolling
Stones tribute bands in North America: Sticky Fingers, a fully-costumed
imitation self-billed as "the leading international Rolling
Stones tribute band"; and their archrivals, the Blushing Brides,
the non-costumed, "most dangerous tribute to the music of
the Rolling Stones."
In trying
to portray tribute bands as a sort of offshoot of popular
culture, Kurutz also implies that tribute bands are important,
nay, necessary. "Tribute bands are a simulation, but at the
same time they are affectingly genuine; the musicians aren't
guided by commercial interests or a record company marketing
strategy, but in most cases by a sincere desire to perform,"
Kurutz argues. "And tribute bands are pre-tested entertainment:
if you like the Rolling Stones, you will like Sticky Fingers."
The bands
themselves are entertainment at its best, maybe more so than
their real-life counterparts. Sticky Fingers' lead Mick, Glen
Carroll, is interviewed amidst a sea of casual girlfriends,
and he has both an unironic physical similarity to the real
Mick Jagger and a self-maintained website that boasts—among
tour dates and accounts of their international fame—an
employment page. Meanwhile, Blushing Brides' Mick, Maurice
Raymond, boasts one of the more successful tribute bands to
date; his outfit filled arenas and was even signed by a major
label to produce original work. But twenty years later, with
the band still driving around in a beat-up minivan, it's easy
to see that life in a tribute band, even a moderately successful
one, is leagues away from the original. "The essential notion
of a tribute band—that is, something directly inspired
by what has gone before—extends beyond music to the entire
culture. Stephen Colbert is, in a way, a tribute band to Bill
O'Reilly," Kurutz says. "Karaoke is based on the same premise
as a tribute band, as is the popular video game Guitar
Hero, in which players replicate, note for note, famous
guitar solos."
Shifting
focus, Kurutz touches on the expanse of tribute bands outside
the scope of the Rolling Stones. Other popular bands include
Lez Zeppelin, Dixie Chicklets, Limpish Bizkit, AC/DShe and
Hair Supply among many, many others. Kurutz even goes so far
as to argue that Lynyrd Skynyrd, the southern-rock group who
lost the bulk of its original members in a 1970s plane crash,
is no more than a tribute band of itself: different cast,
same songs; what's not to love?
Despite
the highs, lows, and surrealism of the subject matter, Kurutz
comes to only general conclusions about someone whose job
is to imitate someone else. Maybe the love of the music stays
the same, but the lack of authenticity and the inability to
ever attain the real Mick Jagger's level of fame or fortune
are constantly realized as the band shifts from playing 55,000
seat arenas in Canada to frat parties in Alabama. Carroll
jokes about calling Kurutz "The Enemy"—the name the fictional
band Stillwater calls a Rolling Stone journalist in
Almost Famous, but it's not very far from the truth
here. Kurutz is almost snidely brutal in his depiction of
the bands, sometimes admiring but mostly describing them as
if the band members are a subset of desperate housemen devoting
their time to mindless hobbies.
Though
Kurutz allows readers a certain degree of behind-the-scenes
analysis, he also allows it only superficially. Readers are
aware of Carroll's girlfriends and how Sticky Fingers' resident
Keith fashions a headpiece with chunks of his own hair, but
as soon as the content starts making headway—with the
band reflecting on their faux-roles or how they manage to
make money, Kurutz defers to the Blushing Brides or another
tangent topic.
Despite
its jagged edges, Like a Rolling Stone is a fun meditation
on both the strange lives of tribute bands and the transcendental
effect pop culture has on society. Like its subject, this
is not an especially new idea or phenomenon. There's a thin
line on which Kurutz never really chooses sides—are tribute
bands really in the spirit of tribute or are they making a
living from someone else's creativity? In the end, the question
doesn't seem all that important, and maybe not being more
involved in the band members' lives is a gift; there's not
always a lot of rock 'n' roll when you're painting houses
in suburbia.
(July
2008)
|
