Song - Artist - Album
Six Feet Under The Ground - Michael Cleveland & Flamekeeper - Life Goes On
Being a professional music critic means spouting my opinion. In fact, after lambasting the popular singer in one of his bands, a bass player friend of mine nicknamed me the Angry Pen.
But I feel bad when someone not wanting my opinion gets ambushed with it.
Case in point, a local cover band opening for a headlining national act this past weekend. After their set, the woman next to my buddy asked what he thought. So, he told her — then suggested she ask me because “he knows a lot about music.”
Well, not exactly. But I know what I like, and it's not cover songs that sound stiff and lifeless compared to the originals. Still, that's no reason to serve up a steaming plate of “you suck”.
It was pretty obvious she was a friend of the band. And once she found out I was a “professional,” she badgered me for my opinion. My other friend would later ask if that makes me uncomfortable.
Yeah, it does.
Because I didn't expect her to gleefully bash her guy with my opinion — with me standing right there — or for her to repeat everything I said to her girlfriend, who, pointing to me as proof, bashed her band guy, too.
Listen, if you've got the balls to actually get up in front of an audience and play, I tip my hat to you. If you're having fun — and with any luck getting paid — who cares what I think?
Unless I'm reviewing your performance, or you (the musician) specifically ask what I think, it's not fair that you get hit in the face with the figurative cast iron skillet of my opinion. Whether or not I think you're any good is irrelevant.
And ladies, you're certainly not helping your boyfriend become a better musician by insinuating that he sucks, just because someone isn't a fan.