Wannabes. Shoulder to shoulder staring at a video game with toy guitars behind a toy drum set.
It is simple enough. There are no advanced tactics, like strafing, from first person shooters. No complex combo moves. You don’t even have to jump or eat magic mushrooms. That hasn’t stopped Rockband 2, and games like it, from stomping out faux sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll on gaming consoles across the world.
For those who haven’t seen the game, it is a modern version of the player piano. This time around, however, there is more interaction and a video game console sitting in judgment. For each instrument there is a scrolling set of color coded buttons sliding down the screen. On your chosen controller, you match the drum head of fret button to the color on the screen. Then you either strum it (guitar and bass) or pound it (drums) to unlock each beat of the pre-recorded song.
As artificial as that setup is, I knew one thing nearly all musicians agree on. Bud. If I’m pretending to be a rock star, I’m surely getting into the right frame of mind. After gearing up back stage, it’s show time.
With that you see the first sparkle of Rockband 2. Where most games, especially console games, trade on subjugation, Rockband is about excelling. And more than that, excelling as a team. With a little herbal encouragement, teamwork steps up and you are in a fucking band. Are you bass or guitar?
You might not be rocking all day and partying every night, but you feel something. The crowd swells. They sing along as you pound out the beat. Suddenly, you are grinning ear to ear while wailing out Bon Jovi tracks in your living room. That’s right! Music you wouldn’t be caught dead with on your ipod is your gateway to illusory stardom. White Wedding starts and everyone’s lip snarls just a hair. Is it mockery or reverence. Maybe it’s both. In either case, what was a lark of a party game for the straight edge turns out to blaze brilliantly.
And not in the way that every song sounds better with a nip of the bud. Sure, Rockband is all music, so it is bound to be better. The stoner shift in this case seems much greater than a simple auditory upgrade. It is a forced march into the twisting goo that makes a some random notes into a song. That siren’s call becomes the Uncontrollable Urge. With a couple of companions you really feel something similar to what I remember when I played live shows. Words fail, but, if someone has enough overdrive, they can raise that dinky plastic guitar to the rock gods and save me. For now I’ll just have to watch the crew from A Comic Book Orange meow the Smashing Pumpkins.
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