Battle of the bands
If American Idol has proven anything over the last five years, it's this: Desperate mobsters, killer housewives, paranormal castaways, and whoever else Hollywood's highest screenwriters can dream up hold no candle to the spectacle of a dozen talented but not particularly original nobodies trying to karaoke their way to life as a talented but not particularly original superstar.
Given that whatever magic resides in this particular quest has been successfully extended to dancing, modeling, cooking, business tycooning, and fashion designing, it was only a matter of time, of course, before someone decided to take the concept even less farther afield. Thus, Fox's The Next Great American Band.
There are twelve bands campaigning to win our votes on Band, and just as on Idol, they seem to have been cast not because they are the 12 best unsigned bands in America, or even the 12 best unsigned bands that showed up to Band's auditions -- but rather because, when, combined with all the others, they feature something for everyone and thus at least offer the potential to capture a mass audience. Like Donny and Marie, Band is a little bit country, a little bit rock 'n' roll, and just for good measure, a little bit big band and a little bit adult-contempory too. And, unfortunately, a lot of mediocrity.
In time, perhaps, if Band proves it can deliver platinum futures in the same way that Idol can, the show's producers will be able to get the variety they seek without having to compromise on talent. Currently, however, the show's in its Justin Guarini phase. With their punky schoolgirl looks, for example, the band Rocket is designed to appeal to adolescent Avrils and dirty old Ramones fans alike -- too bad their lead singer's voice should be put in detention for life.
In a similar vein, there's Light and Doom, a tweenage wasteland quintet of metal tots who seem determined to invent their own new genre: Shampoo rock. In five years or so, they'll probably be a pretty good Metallica cover band; right now, their major selling point is that they look like Hanson auditioning for a L'Oreal commercial as they toss and whip their long, thick, shiny tresses during their performances.
There's also some more technically accomplished bands too, like the kick-out-the-jams funksters for the Lord, Franklin Bridge, or the heavy bluegrass trio, The Clark Brothers, who attack their mandolins and violins with the ferocity of Angus Young.
And just like that, the tried-and-true formula of Idol takes effect: Will the more talented bands overcome the greater marketability of their rivals? Or will they become this year's Mandisa?
Compared to Idol, Band isn't hitting on all notes yet. Of the three celebrity judges, only Dicko, an Australian knock-off of Simon Cowell, is a suitable facsimile, lacing his vitriol with moments of genuine wit. Goo Goo Dolls frontman John Rrzeznik, alas, is not nearly as endearingly idiotic as Randy Jackson, and Sheila E. is far too coherent to fill Paula Abdul's tiny, addled shoes. But even Idol needed a few takes to get the exact sound it wanted. (Remember Season 1 co-host Brian Dunkelman?) Band won't ever be the reality TV equivalent of Nirvana. But the reality TV equivalent of, say, Stone Temple Pilots? Sure, why not?
A frequent contributor to Las Vegas Weekly, Greg Beato has also written for SPIN, Blender, Reason, Time.com, and many other publications. Email Greg at [email protected]