When 98Rock announced several weeks ago that bands interested in the one remaining local slot at this weekend's annual Livestock festival would literally have to fight for it, many assumed, and not a few fervently hoped, that the whole thing was a hoax. Rampant speculation erupted within the heavy-music scene. In rehearsal spaces, at shows and on the always entertaining yet often irretrievably stupid coffeestain.com message board, band members, friends, and grammatically challenged little kids debated. The most outspoken arguments were decidedly against the idea of providing Bubba the Love Sponge's morning show with cannon fodder in exchange for a shot at a short a.m. Livestock set. The competition was loudly denounced as demeaning and exploitative, while statements praising it, defending it, or announcing intent to enter were few and far between.
Still, 6 a.m. on Friday, April 19, found a boxing ring erected behind The Coliseum, a Largo nightspot, with 16 bands (and five alternates) registered as contenders. That so many wound up entering should surprise no one — a slot at the festival has long been considered a feather in local groups' caps, no matter how they get there.
"It was kind of joke," said drummer Mike Holt, representing the Bradenton band Signal 76, of their decision to enter. "We don't go out for a lot of this kind of stuff, contests, battles of the bands. But we said "screw it — if we get picked, we'll do it.'"
So does he see this sort of thing as exploitation?
"Of course it is!" interjected an enthusiastic female eavesdropper. "But it's for LIVESTOCK!"
About half of the 150 or so onlookers were there either with a band, or with the radio station. The other half were, in all likelihood, lured more by the promise of a live Bubba broadcast or simple public violence than by any attachment to local music. All in all, it was pretty much exactly what you'd expect for a crowd willing and able to devote a weekday morning to amateur pugilism and FM shock-jockage — in other words, Livestock in miniature. Bikers, off-duty bouncers, mulleted tradesmen, lost-looking businessmen and various young women meandered about, eyeballing the numerous cops and hooting for the meatier thuds emanating from the ring. One young man in hospital scrubs eyed a beer tub wistfully, possibly awaiting the 8 a.m. legal serving time and a quick cold one before heading off to perform a little heart surgery.
The initial one-round bouts passed quickly; by around 7:30, the field had been reduced by half. As boxers, the entrants made great musicians. An artful demonstration of the sweet science this was not, but most of them appeared to be putting fun above punishment, and nobody really went all psycho on an opponent. Ryan Pasco, frontman for Result of Abuse (formerly Puddin' Hogs), looked a bit more experienced than the rest of the field. He knocked John from Final Chapter's tooth loose — never get into the ring with braces — and moved on to the semis. Holt, having been dubbed "Big Bird" by the announcer, also progressed. Bubba and his cohorts commented less on the fights than they did on the Miller Lite girls.
Megalablatta vocalist Dean Pskowski won his semifinal round in about 34 seconds by giving some guy from The Bastards a good one in the face, upping the injury tally to two broken noses and two dislocated shoulders. Holt threw in the towel after a couple of minutes in the ring with Pasco.
Then it was time for the main event. Both vocalists are more than 6 feet tall and weigh around 200 pounds. Both dispatched previous contenders with relative ease. But, like Christopher Lambert says in Highlander, there can be only one; Pskowski gave out late in the second round, and Pasco emerged victorious.
"I didn't expect to go all the way," said Pasco, who took the extra step of visiting a boxing gym in preparation for the event. "It was fun."
Last year, his band was invited to play Livestock on the strength of their abilities. This year, he had to pound on fellow scenesters, some of them friends, in order to do so. Pasco was well aware of perceptions that today's contestants are just cogs in 98Rock's publicity machine, but figured that hard choices are part of the ladder to success.
"At first, we didn't know if I should do it. There was a lot of criticism of the bands (involved) going on," he said. "But any publicity is good publicity. You gotta do what you gotta do."
Runner-up Pskowski had similarly mixed feelings about the whole shebang.
"I would have preferred a musical battle of the bands. This doesn't show or rely on the bands' talents," said the vocalist. "Nobody would be here if it wasn't for a shot at Livestock."
Some 40 minutes after the main event, Bubba had to be reminded on the air that Result of Abuse had been the winner.
Personally, I think the whole thing shows an infuriating lack of respect for Tampa Bay musicians and their craft on the part of 98Rock. I should know. I've disrespected various elements of the scene regularly (God, some of you have no sense of self-deprecation), good-naturedly and otherwise, and I'm appalled. It's hard to imagine the conversation over at the radio station — "Why let "em do their thing, when we can get 'em to fight each other on the air?" But some bands will always go for it, because they see the alternative as nada, zip, zilch — a missed opportunity. It's tough to put much blame on those groups that decide to participate; being in a band myself, I'm well aware that sometimes tough choices have to be made. If every band in town had boycotted the event, then it wouldn't have happened, but in all likelihood there would be at least one less local slot at the next big 98Rock hoedown. And every available position would go to groups with the foresight, the savvy, or the friends to ingratiate themselves with the station. You can't blame those guys much, either. They're just trying to get ahead.
We shouldn't be too hard on bands still struggling to make an impact on those who choose a dubious chance over a nonexistent one. Nor should we get bent out of shape that some bands envision the Liquid Lunch circuit as a road to bigger things.
What we most certainly should do instead is take a good look at a radio station that hasn't had a local music program in years but has taken the time since then to ridicule Bay area bands on its morning show, and has turned yet another opportunity to show the scene some love into a publicity stunt for its own gain. And we need to decide for ourselves whether or not we want them doing us any favors.
Just for the record, Livestock 12 takes place April 26-28 at Zephyrhills Festival Park. For more details, log onto www.98rock.com.
This article appears in Apr 24-30, 2002.