I had a friend in high school that could play anything he wanted.  While the rest of us struggled around our fret boards, John (not his name) could hear a song once and be able to play it. From day one his bass seemed to be merely a four-string extension of himself. In the nearly 25 years I have been in and around music, John is one of the few musicians I have known in my life who I can say is truly gifted.

And I hated him for it.

After high school, I kept in touch with John in our unsaid contest to see who would eventually become the rock-and-roll star we all dreamed of being. Given his innate musical ability and pleasant demeanor, even I had to concede that he had a better shot than I did. Everything that I could do with an instrument came only after weeks, months and years of diligent effort where as John could dance circles around me without even breaking a sweat. My only advantage over him was that I wanted it more.

I got a call one day from John and he told me that he landed a gig on a cruise ship playing top 40 covers. He was pretty excited about the opportunity having toiled in a series of going nowhere and nowhere fast bands in the cultural abyss that is Northern Virginia and he thought that this was the first step to bigger and better things. “Not only do I get five bills a week, but room and board is free and I get to drink all I want,” he said, obviously thrilled. I was happy for him as I knew he wanted to travel playing music, but the thought of playing, “Too Shy” by Kajagoogoo or, “And We Danced” by the Hooters three times a night to middle-aged vacationers seemed like a torture out of Dante’s Inferno to me. I told him as much and he replied, “It’s just a gig to hold me over until I get my own thing going.”
Problem is, he never did get his own thing going. He became a jukebox. Over the next couple of years, he languished in the cover band circuit playing whatever was popular to a soul sucking parade of drunken frat boys, housewives and yuppies who couldn’t hear “That’s What I Like About You” by the Romantics and similar overplayed hits enough. In the process, John became an increasingly volatile alcoholic. His playing became increasingly erratic and he drifted through a series of groups before serious health issues relating to his drinking forced him into retirement. The last time I talked to him he was going to AA meetings religiously and was looking into the possibility of selling insurance. He hadn’t touched his bass in years.

I always think of John when I see the ever-increasing number of cover bands playing these days. What miserable lives of quiet desperation these cover/tribute band players must lead. To have the merit of your musical existence judged solely on your ability to mimic music written by someone else is a fate, creatively speaking, worse than death. Sure, I’ve seen great cover bands and weekend warriors bash out hits with glorious results, but as a career, I don’t know which is worse; the artistic lethargy that makes musicians settle for life as a parrot to make a living or the audiences’ troubling need to hear only what they have heard before. Both scenarios are equally disturbing as they imply that both performer and listener alike are mired in an apathy that music is supposed to help you rise up from.

The cover band phenomenon represents the sickening allure of a culture settling for less

And besides, being you is a much more worthy pursuit than being a good imitation of somebody else.

chris,
I very much agree with your POV, the sad thing for some bands that play all originals is the club owners then to want something that is easy to label & sell to their crowd. 
So i encourage poeple to get out & support your local talent, (shameless plug here) the Octane Saints are back playing w/ a new drummer Scott Schuppert @ the Triple 3 bands for $5.
best,
cindy

He could have ended up as a waiter or an internet radio disc jockey…

Yes, that is a fate worse than death. Proof of that sentiment can found here:

http://rvanews.com/2008/09/the-bopst-show-episode-23/

And when considering this column, always remember that whatever gets you through the night, it’s alright, it’s alright…

There’s no shame in playing other people’s music. Doing it allowed me to go around the world twice, be on late-night TV, pay off my student loans, and make many interesting friends. It was being stabbed in the back by my own band that made me never want to even look at the bass again.

Sad.

Although things could have been much worse for “John”.

He could have ended up as a waiter or an internet radio disc jockey.

Anybody that gets paid to pay music should be thankful though I would bet any amount of money that you would prefer to play those gigs playing your own music. Still, I’m glad to hear you can pay the bills with your fret board though. Lord knows it ain’t an easy trick to pull off…

What is your band’s name?

Hi Chris,

I enjoyed your article; however, you’re only looking at cover/tribute musicians from one perspective. You’re assuming everyone has the option whether to write and perform your own music or perform someone else’s.

I’m a 44 year old (young?) male, professional, married (20 years) with two children. I also play rock guitar in a “tribute” band. In my opinion, I’m way past my prime to try and go out and build a following around my own music.

Playing in a tribute band is more like a hobby, a hobby that let’s me travel the world (I’ve performed all over the US, Japan, South America, etc.) and make a little money doing it! How many people can say their hobby pays for itself, or even allows them to pocket a little extra coin? We perform at some of the best venues in front of 1000’s of people who get “caught in the movement” and have a GREAT time enjoying music (and seeing a show) performed by their favorite band (sort of).

Only 5-years ago I thought my music career was over. Now I’m a “Rock Star,“ albeit only on the weekends