Evan Kremin - A Legend Of Guestian Proportions

A few Saturdays ago I went to a club here in New York called Snitch. My buddy Joe had a friend playing in a battle of the bands there as part of something called the Emergenza Festival, and we decided to go and offer some support. Now, battle of the bands type gigs are high up on the list of things I hate a lot, but I am really happy I went that night.

First of all, Joe's friends were great. Which was a relief. It would have been so uncomfortable talking to them afterwards if I had hated them. But it turned out that they played the kind of music I love (singer-songwriter/alt-country-ish stuff), and did it well.

But the highlight of the night was the side-splitting laughter caused by the group before them, The Evan Kremin Band.

You really had to see them to believe them. Or I should say him, it was all about Evan himself. Before the show I noticed that there were a line of "Evan Kremin" CDs lined up along the top of a corner booth, wrapped in a cellophane bag with a little box included. And there were lots of CDs, possibly hundreds since there was a huge bag with even more of them. But more on that later.

When they started, we noticed that there was an old couple standing in front of us close to the stage. They were obviously Evan's parents. That's another thing to hate about battle of the bands contests, too many biased family members show up.

From the opening riff it was obvious that this guy listened to waaaaaaay too many power ballads in the 80s. The dead give away was the god-awful lyrics that were nothing more than a series of strung together clichés, and the hilarious rock star posturing by a guy pushing (maybe even past) 40. Throw in the guitarist, who looked about 50, trying to do his best Jimmy Page impression, and you had just a hilarious sight. And the range of songs would go from sounding like Journey to Great White to Poison to, believe it or not, Michael Bolton.

And such deep lyrics like, "I'll sing the songs I've never sung, I'll do the things I've never done, I'll sow the seeds I've never sown."

And, "If you reach into a fire you're gonna get burned"

There was also a song, the name escapes me, where he kept singing about rats in a maze that was bringing on laughter and gag reflexes from me simultaneously. It was a song that could have competed for the title of Most Cliché-Ridden Song Ever if it weren't for the existence of Poison's Every Rose Has Its Thorn.

I had the hardest time holding in the loud laughter, what with his parents standing right in front of me.

He ended his night, thanking everyone for coming, telling everyone to give it up for the Emergenza Festival, thanking his wife for doing the CDs (aha, she's the big-haired middle aged woman shilling those out) and generally acting like the headliner, even though this is a battle of the bands. He introduced the last song, called Monsters Under My Bed, wasting no time and getting to the clichés right in the song title.

It was the performance of this song that really solidified the feeling that I had found myself in the middle of a real life Christopher Guest movie.

Evan, an aging, pudgy, almost mullet-headed, struggling front man of what could probably be a really decent wedding band (for those suburbanites who like those bland top 40 cover bands to play at their weddings) if they would stop doing his songs, fancies himself to be a major rock star. To call it delusions of grandeur would be an understatement.

He jumped off the stage during the performance of Monsters and walked into the crowd to sing straight at a girl for a little bit, and then point and scream/sing at a guy in the audience. Now I'm losing it (along with the girl he was singing at) and am just openly laughing because I can't help it. And I'm so happy at this point I got to see this, because just when you think that the characters in Christopher Guest's movies are too far over the top, you get to see living proof that they're not. It was beautiful.

Somebody really needed to tell this guy that you can't get away with rock star moves unless you actually are a rock star. Bono going out to sing to a girl is cool, a chunky middle-aged nobody from Jersey doing it is creepy.

And to top it off the song had a dramatic pause toward the end. The music stopped like the song ended, but the band kept a dramatic pose. A smattering of people were clapping like it was over, and Joe leaned over and said, "wait for it." And there it was, they started back up to finish the last chorus, and then ended the song with Mr. Kremin singing London Bridge Is Falling Down in a high voice to a fade-out. Oooooh, how dramatic.

Of course they won that night.

It was decided by audience vote, and from the looks of all the hugging Evan did after he got off stage it appeared that, along with his family, all of his old high school friends were there. He had definitely done a great job of stocking the audience. This poor guy really thinks that the path to a record contract and rock stardom is getting your friends to vote for you at a local battle of the bands contest. It would be sad if it weren't' so damn funny.

You might think I'm being a little too hard on the poor guy. After all, he is just trying to follow his dream, as unlikely as it is to ever come true. And I would agree, except for the fact that the only things more over the top than his over-wrought, clichéd lyrics, are his gigantic ego and shameless self-promotion.

The ticket I had for the night seems to have come through his allotment of tickets to sell. It had a sticker slapped on it that said, "THE EVAN KREMIN BAND LIVE AT SNITCH!!...Don't be late...your vote could be the one that made the difference." You've got to be kidding me.

And then there was his wife and the CDs. She was going around the bar after the set shoving them at anybody and everybody, "Did you get a CD? Here, I've got one for you." Oh goody, just for me?! I did take one, jut so I could get a laugh and to find out what was in the box that was wrapped with it.

I opened it, the outside of the package said, "Thanks for your support!" Inside the box was a miniature Magic 8 Ball. On the side opposite the answer window is was he Evan Kremin logo like on the CD cover, along with his myspace address (you really should check that out, it's got samples of his overwrought, cliche-riddled songs). And above the logo was the line, I kid you not, "The Answer Is In The Music..." I was laughing the whole subway ride home after seeing that.

People told me I shouldn't rip on the guy in my blog. Or at least don't use his name because it might hurt his feelings. And I thought about that, but hell, if his friends won't tell him his music sucks and he's never going to be a rock star, at least someone should write it. Now he may or may not see this, I'm just a dude with a blog, not a paid rock critic or a published writer. But something tells me he googles his name a lot.

I really decided is was OK to rip on the guy after checking out his myspace site and reading his description of himself. He truly is a legend in his own mind. Here are a few highlights:

Birthed as one of Bleecker Street's truly protected children, Evan Kremin has been mastering his craft on this legendary New York music strip since 1983. As a compellingly gifted singer, songwriter and musician, Evan was quickly adopted by club owners and industry professionals as Bleecker's own "favorite son".

As an independent, original artist Evan Kremin has matured into an "authentic rock reward".

His performances are invigorating - as he is not shy on warmth or sex appeal. It is Rock and Roll with all the quality and authenticity you would expect from a great performer. Hollywood can't make artists like Evan Kremin...they can only aspire to find them.

Remember, he wrote this about himself. And what the hell does "authentic rock reward" mean anyway?

Can you think of anybody who deserves to be made fun of more than this? I mean, besides George Bush.