Question Of The Week: Do A Birthday Shot!
You’ve been to a million shows and you’ve witnessed a million dudes climb onstage uninvited. Hey look at me, their expression reads, I’m standing in the spotlight right next to the performers who actually earned it! It’s an efficient way to come off like a dork, all grateful for a momentary thrill and the attention of paying customers — for better or worse. Concertgoers, meanwhile, are left to sigh as the dork puts on his own show within the actual show, up to and including his finale of burying a knee in their faces with a graceless stage dive.
But it’s a different story when you get invited to join the band onstage. That’s fun for everybody; you are seen squirming uncomfortably, squinting into blinding lights, and padding fitfully around a dark stage. Everybody has a mic but you, so it’s with no defense that you absorb zings, insults, and embarrassing compliments. Do you fight it? Hot dog it? Or are you the picture of humility? In today’s Question Of The Week, just smile and wave then get the fuck off the stage!
Inspired by our Axl Rosenberg’s birthday shot onstage with his lifebros in Pig Destroyer, we ask our staff:
From what artist would you accept an invitation to appear onstage for your own birthday salute?
The genie grants you one birthday wish! Choose wisely!
As much as I’d like to have a flagon of mead with Enslaved, I’d go with Deftones. I love them as much today as I did when I was 14, and I have a feeling that’ll continue as long as they do. I also think they’d be a little less intimidating than Enslaved. (I imagine Grutle Kjellson could drink me under the table a dozen times over, and my abs would surely be inferior to those of Ice Dale, the most homoerotic man in black metal.) It’d be a dream to knock one back, pour a little on the stage for Chi, then have them jump into a deep cut like “Fireal.” Frankly, in my second decade of Deftones fandom, I feel I’m owed this!
The Crown. Of my favorite metal bands, they’re the ones that best encapsulate my love of Satan, drinking, and rocking out. I’d pound a whiskey, shotgun a beer, and then go right into the crowd as “Satanist” kicks in.
It’s my birthday, so I’m going to be full of scotch. If someone’s going to be inviting me onstage, I hope that it’s someone as wrecked as me so I don’t look quite as ridiculous: pre-rehab Matt Pike. High On Fire, Sleep, doesn’t matter. I suppose if it were a Sleep show, he’d look at me with bleary eyes and a toothless grin, and pat me on the back then blast into “Aquarian.” If it’s High On Fire, he’d grab me by the scruff of the neck, growl something unintelligible into the microphone, and dedicate “The Face Of Oblivion” to me. Either way, I’d probably stay up there for the whole song, too awkward to say anything, but too excited to stop head banging onstage. Ah yes. Someone build a time machine so I can make this very important dream a reality.
DAVID LEE ROTHMUND
Any artist. That way I could be on stage and people would be like “omg dudes check it out its that guy’s birthday!” Then they would cheer and be happy! Uh oh, but then they’d boil down into an alcoholic frenzy and start throwing cups and bottles and their own shit at me. Nothing like being covered in shit for your birthday. Just one year closer to being dead. And how!
Aerosmith. On their video mega-screens, I’d appear larger than life strapped into a latte-bong and whipped with frilly scarves. I’d swing Steven Tyler around by his legs, execute a wax-assault on Joe Perry’s moustaches, menace Brad Whitford by tapping my watch, then excuse myself to pursue private birthday celebrations with Aerosmith lady fans aged 20-80 years.