Camouflage jeans can't hide that ass

I went to Mercy Lounge on Saturday night to see My So-Called Band play. They do all 90's covers and since Nashville as a whole is a town of musical imitators instead of innovators, this played over very well. Don't get me wrong, I knew what I was getting into when I decided to go: $3 cans of PBR, drunk chicks going "WOOOOOOOO!!!" and wearing those fuckin' annoying headbands that indicates that they want to talk about running but in reality can't pronounce the word "Saucony", and an uptempo mix of mid-90's alt rock that I still enjoy. I know they're a cover band and that's why it was ok. The "imitator vs. innovator" thing still stands. Take that, Music City! I'm gonna preface the rest of this blog [Can I do that? Sure! Why the hell not?!] by saying that I really like My So-Called Band... with the lone exception being their cover of "Wonderwall" which was kind of boring but everything else was spot-on. How's that for a backhanded compliment? Oh, snark, thy name is Stephen!

I rather like Mercy Lounge, though. I don't go there very often (I've been there maybe six or so times since I've lived here) but it's got fantastic sound, great sight lines, and it's almost guaranteed that someone will trip and/or fall on the little tiny (and wholly unnecessary) ledge in front of the bar. So even if you hate the band that's playing, the chances of you being entertained are still better than average.

Can ya' get a sense of where I'm going with this?

The show started about an hour and a half late. This is Nashville, after all. About 10:30, the opening band took the stage. They were called The Mary Nails. This is what they look like:

Again, it's Nashville, so shit that looks like this plays pretty well. In another case of assonance, it's a case of image over imagination... and using the same letter! How about that?! Let's take stock of what we're looking at here:

* A white guy in a skinny tie trying to be David Bowie. This is a mistake. There is only one Thin White Duke.
* Two chicks. This works in a band (i.e. Heart, The Breeders, L7, The Fastbacks, etc...) when the women can actually craft melodies. These two ladies of the night stage can't. Coming up with the occasionally crafty line in a song (like, for instance, the title of this particular blog post) is a step in the right direction... but the way to hell is paved with good intentions. And the way to musical El Dorado is paved with the same. Maybe these broads are on to something here.

*The guy 'playing' keys in the background. Almost didn't notice him, did ya? I will say that this picture does not do his shirt justice. The gold lame' [writer's note: I'm not too sure how necessary that accent mark is] shirt didn't come across in all of its unbuttoned and sparkly glory. This guy looked like a douchebag, sang like a douchebag, and danced like a douchebag. He was the Holy Triune Spirit of Douchebaggery. Almost makes him sound like a character from The Lord of the Rings. I can see it now... Fighting Gandalf the Grey with his Ten Point Power Sword and his Plus One Korg is Douchey the Gold. I realize that sounds like the top billing a title card fight and not very Tolkien-esque. I'm just a marginally talented dude with a keyboard, so what do I know? I'm kinda like, well... Kinda like Douchey the Gold. OH GOD!!!

Yesterday, Karen and I were talking about this band. She mentioned to me that someone else had said that The Mary Nails sounded like the retarded version of Scissor Sisters. To me, Scissor Sisters sound at least marginally retarded so The Mary Nails have got to be full retard. And if I've learned anything from Robert Downey, Jr., it's that you don't do cocaine, wander into your neighbor's house, and then fall asleep in one of their beds. If I've learned two things from Robert Downey, Jr., it's that you never go full retard: "... there was Sean Penn in ‘I Am Sam.’ He went full retard. Left the Oscars empty-handed. You went full retard, man. Never go full retard."

If any of the members of The Mary Nails happen to be reading this, I'm going to leave you with this: if you're not going to take advice from me (and it's doubtful that you will), please take it from Robert Downey, Jr. He's much more successful than any of us and I'm sure that's what some soulless music endeavorers such as you appear to be really want. Or, you know, you could just stop altogether. That would solve the problem pretty easily.