It’s a giant contest, more than 200 bands tried and we got in third place. Should we be so happy? But not. No happiness because we performed on stage like scared kitties before bath time. Seriously, If I was judging the 12 finalist bands over that night I would tell Balba to go back to the drawing board. We had already performed live dozens of times, so what were we afraid of? Well, I guess nobody is ready to be judged. At that point, it was completely clear to me why it’s a sin. Don’t judge anyone, never, you gonna make the judged feels like shit. And don’t forget to smile all the way down, you shit.
There was a sortition to reveal the cronogram, and we would be the sixth band to play that day. Well, 6 is my luck number, half the way of the contest, probably the best scenario of the afternoon / evening.
The first band did their best. And it was very good stuff, but cover songs. Deep inside me, I knew covers and versions wouldn’t be enough to beat us. Maybe a cover of ourselves, that would be a triumph, but nobody would be that brave. I tell you this because I always have these thoughts in my dreams, people making covers of our tunes. I’m pretty sure this day is about to come.
Second band was simply wonderful, Made in Rock, I felt so embarrassed, how could we face those rock monsters? Can we play after these guys? Third band, great gig, fourth band, wonderful gig, fifth band, time to go backstage. Dude, a lot high level musicians, and now it’s our turn. Deep breath, keep that smile on your face, you shit. Applause, 5th show is over, we head to the stage, the roadies act like the mechanic on a pit stop, in a matter of seconds, 20 or 30, it’s show time.
“And everybody is on the run”. Dig melodically spells One Man Army to the curious crowd. As a magic spell, song was finished. Can’t remember further details, because Lou’s guitar was so freaking loud and unconfigured, that made me mad.
So, second tune, Ma Chère Marie. There was no mistake, this is a butter commercial song, everybody loves. So, at the very intro, Lou once again makes me mad, playing the solo absurdly out of tune. That’s it, last place tonite, there was nothing else we could do to change that game. Another song I can’t remember the in between, because of that madness.
What a Spectacle Needs? Yeah, that is the name of the third and last song of the evening. That title was a slap on our face, what the fuck we are here to? We are here to shine, to reach the top of the world, to deliver our message to billions. And if we do believe on that, we should offer to the crowd what a real spectacle needs. No more miserable times, time to explode, to dance, to scream, to tell everyone, mainly the judges, we’re for real. Now I remember, the audience was dancing and faking the lyrics on their lips, there was a immediate connection in the air, like nobody could leave the venue anymore. Sadly, it was a 10 minutes presentation and we were forced to disappoint the insane crowd, announcing the end of that show.
After all, wasn’t that bad, at least one third of our musics was audible, and we could return safety home as the last position band. But we still had to take the torture of watching the other 6 outstanding bands.
Ok, final verdict, judges on stage and mic is on. Érika Martins (Penélope), Fred (Raimundos) and Guto Goffi (Barão Vermelho). I had a inner hope, but wouldn’t tell nobody. Before their announcement, they spoke about being real and genuine. My inner hope got bigger. So was time to face the truth: “In third place…” The announcer always makes that ridiculous and annoying silence before sentencing something he already knows, cause he is reading on the paper. But meanwhile, his distraction betrayed him, as his lips were clearly shaping the B phonetical shape. We were the only band starting with a B, but do we deserve? “In third place… BALBA”.
Insane clapping and screaming takes the saloon. Everybody tell us it was a great performance, the other bands tell us they knew they wouldn’t win no more because we were there. Suddenly, all the black and white become colorful. Time to realize we are very, vey, very happy with this result. Even though we think we ruined all in stage, people loved us. The moral? Don’t push too much over yourself and be as real as you can, the rest are fake details.
Cheers. Dav Obadia.