To Be Or Not To Be A Cover Band… Does The Question Even Need To Be Asked?
A semi-frequent argument erupted in one of the local musicians groups on Facebook the other day. The poster, whose name I will leave out for reasons soon to be stated, stated that every cover band in the area had to play certain songs get the crowd dancing. The gentleman in question most likely made this post in parody of a certain mindset, one he no longer has to deal with as he has pretty much retired from playing live for various personal reasons.
You know the songs… “Don’t Stop Believin’”, “Brown Eyed Girl”, “Sweet Home Alabama”, “What I Like About You”, “I Wanna Be Sedated”. Good songs… but way overplayed.
Unfortunately, the mindset he parodied with his post still prevails amongst some people… and boy, do they flip the fuck out when someone comes along and dares to challenge the norm!
Prime examples:
You’re playing alternative rock? How dare you! That shit was supposed to have vaporized along with Kurt Cobain’s brain! Stick to the classics! Unless you can’t play them properly, which is why you’re only playing that three-chord grunge shit in the first place!
You’re playing metal? How dare you! Good luck getting more than a gig or two around here! Nobody dances to that shit! You’ll attract the wrong kind of clientele to our bar!
You’re playing folk? What are you, a bunch of wussies? Wouldn’t your mommy let you have an electric guitar? Did you give up on rock because you’re a loser? Do you think you need to protest something?
You’re playing your own material? What are you trying to do, get signed? How dare you write your own songs! I can’t! I don’t know how and I never tried! Why would you waste the money you could spend on your stage show pressing a bunch of CDs no one is going to buy? Why would you waste the time you could spend learning what people want to hear writing songs no one is going to recognize?
Several years ago, I went to see an old colleague of mine, Rich Hook, who I had been in a band called Fallacy with, play in an area club. Between sets, we got to talking shop and he pointed something out to me: “Back when we were in Fallacy together, every band in the area had completely different set lists: We had our mostly Top 40 deal, Strider were a new wave-based band, Arcangel were doing their glam metal thing, Rogue were doing everything from CSN&Y and Huey Lewis to a straight-faced cover of “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy”. But we all had one thing in common — we all gave 100% every night on stage. Nowadays, a bunch of guys get together in a basement, rehearse about 30 to 40 bar band standards for about a month, rent a PA and some lights, and play a few gigs that dry up rather quickly, they disband, a new group or two forms using some of the same guys, and the cycle seems to repeat itself.”
To make this formula more succinct, it goes as follows: Pick a set list dominated or completely full of “familiar” songs that can be easily learned (or relearned). Have just a few rehearsals. Pick out a stupid name. Get some bookings. Rent a PA and some can lights. Play out a few times. Break up when the money you thought would roll in doesn’t. Not a very good formula for the economy of any local music scene, financially or culturally. Below is an example from a short lived bar band, imaginatively called “Johnson”, that was foolishly and briefly posted to a local club’s Facebook page in January 2014. They made up this setlist thinking they’d be a successful band. They were wrong. By the time the year was half over, they were completely over.
An attitude not dissimilar to the one described by my old colleague pretty much weakened and eventually destroyed the last cover band I was in (multiple emphases on the word “last”). The band started out with a more distinct agenda, but we had a couple of issues along the way. The band had started to come together in August of 2012, and our singer had the bright idea to book a New Year’s Eve gig before we even had a fully stable lineup. Between August and November we went through two drummers, three bass players, and three other guitar players before we had a relatively stable lineup. It was pretty rough going, and while we had a little more two sets of material, once we had a relatively steady lineup it was crunch time — with less than five weeks to go, we threw in a few “common” songs (thankfully, nothing in the exact “Sweet Home Alabama” vein — Southern rock literally makes my blood pressure rise to “high hypertension” levels) to temporarily pad things out for that first set, fully intending to retire them after that show.
The show went very well, with our more “unusual” cover choices going over very well and the few emergency padding songs … not so much.
Then, a few days after our first, successful show, we ended up making two personnel changes again, one forced and brief due to outside chicanery, and the second necessary and permanent because of issues that would have affected the band’s ability to get booked. And one of the replacements turned out to be the nail in the coffin — he was picking out a lot of the same “simple” music every other bar band was playing. Why so? Anxious to get out and play even though we didn’t have our next shows booked until that February? Didn’t he get the memo that we were trying to stand out amongst most of the other generic cover acts in the area?
I found out the answer over the next few weeks: As it turned out, he “liked” to drink. Not in the beer/wine aficionado sense, but in the “I need to drink a six pack before I leave the house, and on the way to band practice I need to buy a whole bag of tallboys of cheap beer at the convenience store, and drink them like water during band practice.” Yeah, the dude was a raging alcoholic. It showed, too. The songs he was picking were ones he felt he could get away with playing while three sheets to the wind.
[Unfortunately — and this probably shouldn’t surprise most people — his chronic dipsomania also had a severe butterfly effect on the band itself, and it didn’t end with band practice or his choice of songs (many of which we didn’t implement). By the time we would be a few songs into the last set of the evening, he would be completely wasted, sitting down offstage or, more often than not, on the floor of the stage or on a chair with his legs spread like a ten-dollar hooker — ruining the entire gig in the process. That horror story is the start of another, future post.]
I ended up quitting that band two months later. After one of those aforementioned disastrous gigs, I told a friend who had been an unfortunate witness to the events, “I think you just witnessed my last ever cover band performance in this area.” And he had. And the band never played a paid gig ever again after I departed — my spot, like most of the rest of the others in the band, became a revolving door, and footage I saw on YouTube of the band after my departure confirmed that without my presence, they were a rudderless ship for their last few months of existence.
Anyone believing that dominating a band’s set with a list of the same old same old cover songs risks a lot of similar circumstances. How do you avoid them? Simple. First, download a copy of the Johnson setlist I posted above. Second, when compiling songs, double check them against that list. If the song matches, do not play it. It’s not worth it. You will not get the reaction you desire from the audience. In fact, you should be basing your cover songs on what you can put your heart behind. When my last-ever cover band played, it was our less common song choices — including a Hüsker Dü cover (“Don’t Want To Know If You Are Lonely”) that surprised and pleased a lot of our audience — that worked. They could tell when most of us were going through the motions and when we weren’t. Playing the likes of “Don’t Want To Know If You Are Lonely” and “Anarchy In The U.K.” (in the proper Sex Pistols arrangement, mind you — not the Megadeth or Mötley Crüe versions with improperly fast tempos and wholly incorrect lyrics) instead of “What I Like About You” and “Brown Eyed Girl” worked wonders. Third, don’t book a gig until you’ve got a stable lineup and an equally stable set list. Fourth, learn new songs all of the time and add them to the show. This is what serious bands do.
And last but not least: Once you’ve started to build an audience with your live gigs, since you’re a serious band with a set list that stands out and doesn’t suck, start writing your own songs, play them out, book a studio (or buy an iMac and set your own facility up, or do a smart combination of the two, depending on your circumstances), and make your own CD. And start playing your own all or mostly original gigs. Now that’s much better than any cover band.
