My Battle of the Bands: the Final Round

Well, for starters, let’s clear the air: I didn’t win.

I took second runner-up–somebody’s clever way of saying third place. Somehow, though, I feel like the big winner, and if you’re interested, I’ll explain why.

First, let me say this: LP Stiles–the winner–went all-out and put in a fantastic performance. You can watch them in my featured video. To my taste, their musicianship was the most impressive, though improvisational jazz fusion isn’t for everyone.

There were those in the audience who tossed out epithets like “elevator music” during their set, but those of us who are into instrumental music appreciated their consummate ability.

I personally appreciated not only their ability, but their humility. I had a very good conversation with those guys about how this particular battle of the bands didn’t feature any of the ambitious hamstringing or vicious one-upmanship of others we had been in.

Secondly, LP Stiles has been playing together since 2006, and Black Horse Motel, the runner-up, has been at it over a year.

My band, which placed third–a placement which was met with shock by members of the audience I did not know–had been together, at the time, for a whopping 26 days. I met my bass player two days before our first show for a single rehearsal. That shaky beginning took us to the final roundabove a  band that has played with P.O.D., not to mention the cream of the local crop.

No shame in that, right?

Anyway, the evening went well. A crowded house waited boisterously as Bride Dressed in Black, April Mae and the June Bugs, and Ang and the Damn Band battled for the last remaining slot in the four-band final.

In an utterly shocking upset, the June Bugs continued on, leaving Ang and the Damn Band and Bride Dressed in Black to return to South Philly and Washington, D.C., respectively.

After that, we got down to the nitty-gritty. I’d been selected to close the show, a real honor for my crew, but also a knockout punch in many ways. It was after 9 when Black Horse Motel took the stage with their Mumford and Sons-y folk mantras.

They left a lot of sweat and emotion on the stage, and the crowd that stood swaying to the relentless thump of their music stood testament to the nearly religious effect that band has on their diehard fans.

It was 10:10 when LP Stiles began the set that would leave them victorious. At that point, in the audience, I began to count proverbial chickens and realized how hard the night would be for me. LP Stiles played the requisite six-song set all the bands were allotted–but their songs weren’t three-minute pop ditties.

Thus, it was after 11 p.m. on a Tuesday when the Michael Chance Band took the stage. We had a respectable crowd–and a boisterous and determined crowd, featuring many who had seen my band play before, and not a few members of my family.

They were those who came and sat through everything for the sole purpose of being there to chant “Michael Chance! Michael Chance!” while my band set up behind the curtain. I sure feel like the night’s winner when I recall that I’m the only band that got the immortal rock concert chant.

I got lighters, too, later in the set.

In any case, the half-hour that followed was a dream and a blur for me. Sometimes, up there under the lights, with the sweat stinging my eyes and the coiled metal of the guitar strings adding callouses to my aching fingers, I lose myself and fall into the Universe, or something esoteric like that.

Whatever happens–whether I see God or become one with the Universe or just space out–it puts me into a place where I’m not myself, and on the night of the final, my band went there with me.

We clicked for the first time, really clicked. Everyone felt the difference, including the judges.

“You sang your heart out. You sang for your life, and it was really amazing,” said one judge.

"Tonight, whatever happens, Michael Chance is king,” said another.

See why I feel like a winner?

Still, when Rena Sinakin came forward with the tallies, it turned out that I was second runner-up. Some king, huh? In a fierce competition with 16 bands and a judges panel made entirely of musicians, I’m not upset in the least. I’m proud of everything we accomplished.

Oh, and while I’m at it, we raised a serious bit of dough for the schools. The donation tables were piled high with instruments, and the cash drawer was stuffed. All of the bands came away with new fans and new friends. Very fluffy stuff. We all talked about it. We sounded a little…Brady Bunch, actually.

It was odd. I’m used to a different scene, where the most likely scenario is that someone will draw a male sex organ over your band’s name and laugh about it while cutting you down every time you turn your back.

Instead, when LP Stiles was announced as the winner, the first thing their saxophone player, Max Swan, did was thank the bands and myself–by name–for making this battle of the bands the friendliest competition of his life.

Mine, too. See you guys out there in the real world. I'll be the one under the lights.