Squid Roe: Don’t Feed This Mess. Please, Don’t.
Today’s post is from our friend HIM.
I am going to bypass the usual discussions about Skid Row. Not going to talk about Sebastian Bach. Not going to discuss the soap (it’s a thing, I bought it, look it up). Not going to talk about the coffee (also a thing, never bought it, don’t look it up).
And you can pick and choose your favorite pre- and post-Sab singers: Fallon, Sollinger, Theart, Grönwall, Hale, Harnell, and Halford (he sorta’ counts). Do what you want. Doesn’t really matter.
But I am going to talk about this Sweetwater thing. Let me put it bluntly: Skid Row needs to stop. Now. Just stop it. You are sullying your good name and you are actually making a joke of what it means to be a band and/or an artist. (See post from early February: “Are you the next singer of Skid Row?”)
First thing readers should do: go to the Sweetwater site. Just take all of that in. It is an amazing place. It is filled with awesome stuff. Then go to the Skid Row specific page. Take that in too. This is the next chapter! How many chapters are we into this book that they are writing about themselves? I lost count. But I also want to stop and ask you to fully grasp the heartthrob hottie that is their place-card Sales Engineer. He is right out of a stock photo yummy display from New Jersey!
Here’s the thing. The auditions that are being posted on other sites whiplash from self-aware parody to self-assured confidence to unaware sadness. Good on them for getting a moment of fame. But in service to what, exactly? Some of them are bona fide singers. Some are not. And some are in on the joke . . . if the joke is actually funny.
Thing is, this isn’t funny. At least to me. Sure, it gets Skid Row some clicks and attention. But it does nothing to dispel the notion that this band is chugging hard into more obscurity by being so obstinate about “their path.” Notice that the last comment gets dangerously close to discussing something I am not discussing.
So, I will say this: you finally lost me with this pitch, Skid Row. Any semblance of being in it for the love of the music went out the window. And you forced us to watch a bunch of people beg for their supper (even if some of them were winking). You were once a better band. And you once took the high ground. Now? This is about as palatable as your “Slave to the Grind” coffee.