Tonight, I’m planning to go see Hammerfall. You obviously know how I feel about Hammerfall.
They’re playing at a small venue called UB’s. No disrespect toward UB’s because it’s a nice local venue, but it blows me away that an international touring band of Hammerfall’s caliber is playing there. These guys sell out stadiums in Europe like clockwork. They have awesome chops, and they put on a great show. Hell, I’ve played at UB’s in my side project, the female-fronted metal band Luminatus (pretty much a cover band designed to expose local audiences to the awesomeness of symphonic metal – you should become a fan!).
Contrast that with Anvil. This obscure, aging, also-ran band from Canada recently dropped into the Phoenix area and had a sellout show at the Marquee Theater. That’s a far larger venue than UB’s – by a factor of 10, at least. Anvil had an early 1980s moment in the sun, then disappeared into obscurity. Then the movie “Anvil! The Story of Anvil” came out. And I admit, I was rooting hardcore for the loveable band of Canuckleheads. But none of that obscures something important: That lead singer/guitarist Lips just can’t sing or play the guitar very well. Rob is a decent drummer, though. The band’s collective ineptitude is pretty plain to hear. No advanced degree from the Guitar Institute of Technology necessary.
But you look at Hammerfall. Its members and ex-members and probably its audition rejects can play Anvil into the ground. Yet they tour America and get booked at UB’s.
What’s the problem here?
The problem is in the mirror looking at us every day. Not individually, but collectively. For some reason, novelty is what interests us. Screw quality. That saddens me.
Sorry, Hammerfall. I wish Phoenix and the United States could do better for you. But know that some of us are delighted that you’re here.
