Huge shout-out to Sars and Mr. Stupidhead. Thanks, y'all.
Wait, this show has adult language? Shit! Awesome!
Previously: Sutton takes to drink. Can anyone blame him? Fletcher says that "this is serious now." Heh. FLICKERSTICK totally dominates in the battle of the bands; Rex says, "We will beat them a-GIN!" HARLOW is sent home. Aw.
Sad montage of HARLOW packing. Amanda is wearing Goth Gown #3, the possibly velvet, purple-y black one, and is pounding water. She holds a glass to her lips the whole time as Rebecca is talking, gravelly-voiced, about how they "went out with a bang" last night and are "in dire need of going home." Is this some kind of parlor trick? Is Amanda throwing her voice? Rebecca jokes that they're "going to go to rehab -- just kidding." No, she's not. Yes, she is. She says they're going to make a record. There's a montage of hugging (even Beastie gets in on it, the hypocrite, and quotes the scarecrow line from the Wizard of Oz), and then Corey says he's glad it isn't them going home. Right -- you still have more girls to bang, don't you? Amanda chugs more water and hugs no one. Brandin calls her "emotional." I think that's code for "rankly hungover and will barf if she has to hug people like Beastie." Rayshele says she's "proud" of HARLOW's efforts. I think that if they had won, Rayshele would have been crushed; there's no cred in success. What if she had to go live on the beach again? That would have been a National Enquirer story for sure. The camera zooms up to the HARLOW van, their beloved "coffin of pimp," and then fades to white. I am going to miss those crazy girls. The sleepy-lidded Ramsey drones on about how "the boys" are glad to have made it to this, the final leg of the tour, and that "there was some mutual respect" between them. Dude, are you high? You guys hate each other. A lot. Go practice your scales and modes and shut up.
Tour Guy assembles the ragged, yawning cast in their stupid semi-circle and gives us the breakdown -- two shows left, and one final Battle of the Bands, before a band can be declared the "winner."
Total tour earnings to date are:
FLICKERSTICK: $6669 (And how cool a number is that?)
SNACKCRACKER: $9684
SOULSUCKER is leading, those pansy hacks. But wait! Even though the winner is determined by who has raised the most money, and ASSLICKER thought they had a lock because of all of A.P.'s pushy salesmanship, sponsor Guitar Center has swooped in like Superman and arranged to give the winner of the BoB $5000! SOULFUCKER's faces fall and shatter. They know they are fucked. They have always lost the BoBs. And FLICKERSTICK always dominates. HA HA HA HA HA! Brandin says smugly of Soulcracker, "There was no way they thought they couldn't win." Corey says, "Whoever wins the battle of the bands wins the show." Rex says, "WOOOO!!" The boys pile into their vans and drive off to Miami. On the highway, SNACKCRACKLE throws ice and shoot bottle rockets at FLICKERSTICK in the name of playful vandalism, but -- come on. They want to win. If FLICKERSTICK dies in the process, hey, they can live with it. Corey, behind the wheel, screams and throws the horns. He isn't scared.
In the SHITCAKE van, Sutton clings to his hopes that his shitty band can somehow win this thing. How come they never show them actually smoking the crack? They so obviously do. He thinks they can draw three hundred people to the BoB venue and get their votes. This is their strategy. Dude, has that happened? Ever? In your whole career as a musician? Could it now with camera crews following you around? But it still hasn't? Give. It. UP. Bob still clings to the hopes that they can keep selling CDs and still win. Sutton isn't down with that. Plus, he knows there is no chance in hell they can sell $2,500 worth of CDs in a week. Knowing when you're beat can be a good thing. Just try and enjoy Miami, boys. Unclench a little. Maybe have a drink or two, Sutton.
That fucking Will Smith song plays as we get a montage of the Miami skyline, hotel facades, and girlies dancing. Of course, SHITLICKER goes right to their venue, which is a smallish, red-tableclothed blues bar. They aren't happy with this. Yeah, there is clearly no blues influence in their "music." Hell, they probably don't listen to any records made before 1977. What arrogance. Sutton comes over with a newspaper, says unironically, "Check it out," and suggests they bag their venue and go to the venue where the BOB is, the Culture Room in Fort Lauderdale. Tools.
FLICKERSTICK loads into their venue, which looks like a totally respectable rock dump, and play, even though it's Saturday and their booked gig is on Tuesday. It looks like one of those "practice gigs," when you play to, like, no one but get to run through a set regardless. Dominic says this will help them get ready for the BoB, because blah blah blah they-have-to-win-it-cakes. The crowd is into the band, and they scream and "woo."
SNAILTRAILER is happy at the Culture Room, which is a neon-encrusted Home Depot-ish club. A long-haired metal band plays, and Beastie calls the joint "total heshin'-aggression." Has he ever been laid? Didn't think so. The whole band walks around and smokes and grins, as if kissing everyone's ass will help them win. No one in the club pays any attention to them. Sutton thinks they "can appeal more to the general audience" of the CR than FLICKERSTICK could. And that would be the first time on the whole tour that this has happened. A coup. And they say they feel "a glimmer of hope." I start to feel the joy that will come when those hopes are dashed and SOULCRACKER is crying big fat salty tears and go home to no fanfare or accolades. I could be wrong. But I'm not. They go and kiss the owner Greg's ass. He looks totally Goth, not rock at all, but they try and tell him how rockin' they are and shit. Dude, they should have told him how much fucking merch they sold; a club would respect that more than anything. They're in business to make money! Which is not the case with many musicians. Nonetheless, Greg says, "Now you're in a rock room." This night of the week, anyway. Beastie gushes, "It's so nice to be home." Shut up, Beastie. Show me a band with two lead singers that doesn't suck, and then you can talk. Two words: Air Supply. That could be you and Sutton, except that Air Supply had hits. Anyway. Greg lets them set up and play a little that night. I hope he didn't cut any of the other band's set time, but hey, it happens. SOULSHITTER plays to about fifteen people, two of whom "mosh" weakly. Cut that weak shit OUT, people. Did you do that to Bad Brains in 1983? No? You were listening to Air Supply back then? Then don't mosh now. Ramsey says they need to "polarize [them]selves from FLICKERSTICK, to appeal to people that would only like us." Okay, those people? Live in your imagination. No one only likes you. No one. AP says, "We rock harder than them." Then he says, "Not." No, really, I heard him! The song they play is called "The Sound Of Losing." That's what all their songs sound like to me. The ten people clap, and Beastie says, "If we lose, corporate yuppie rock will continue to reign supreme." Dude, what radio is he listening to? What charts is he looking at? Last I heard, hip-hop and rap-core were the big-selling records. Do Bret Easton Ellis and Jay McInerney have records out now? What is he talking about?