Snack Down

In 1985, Lionel Richie greeted each of his five American Music Awards with an incredulous “outrageous!” That simultaneously started a short-lived phrase-craze among his fans and sounded the death knell for that totally ’80s expression as a hip exclamation among teens. By contrast, Tech N9ne has marked each victory in the Pitch Music Awards’ Rap/R&B category with a newly minted saying. (On April 12, he won his sixth trophy in as many years.) Past favorites include “it’s all delicious” and “it’s all Jesus,” but this year’s model was his tastiest confection yet. “Keep it Keebler,” he told a crowd that was increasingly comprised of fans who had bought tickets to catch his evening-ending set. As onlookers pondered his words, wondering what was sizzling with this new elf-touting slogan, he explained his alliterative utterance. “Everything that comes from Keebler is good,” he declared, and the assembly of Vanilla Wafers applauded while his posse of Toasteds shouted encouragement.

Tech’s live show, filled with choreography but bereft of live instrumentation (the prominently displayed drum set in the background remained untouched) or even on-site beat manipulation (there were no turntables to be found), struck some rock purists as more Cheez-It than tha shiznit. Still, his charisma remains magnetic, and he exudes more energy while seated (as during the reflective number “This Ring”) than many rappers can muster while pacing the stage and chanting “throw your hands in the air” until even party people just don’t care. He might not be attentive to detail (“What’s up, Klammies!” was his outdated opening salvo) or especially family-friendly (after a touching introduction by his pint-sized daughter, who identified Tech as a sweet, loving daddy, he unloaded a profanity-packed performance spiced with dirty dancing), but Tech epitomizes the spirit of local music awards, if only for his hometown-pride anthems. The best of those, “It’s Alive,” galvanized civic pride like no tune since “Goin’ to Kansas City.”

One of Tech’s new jams proclaimed his “Absolute Power,” but even that wasn’t enough to score him a second award in the Best Live Act category, which instead went to gospel-informed garage rats the Gadjits. Unfortunately, the brothers Phillips, who also earned Best Rock Band honors, weren’t on hand to pick up their hardware (the band is touring in Canada), so Stan Henry, the event’s host, came up with a makeshift solution, enlisting officer Rob (puts the rock in) Shorrock of the Kansas City, Missouri, Police Department, for award-acceptance duty. During his first speech, Shorrock earned big cheers with a heartfelt salute to area musicians. He looked like a pro at the podium — so much so that Best Electronic/DJ/Dance winners Namelessnumberheadman asked him, “Will you accept for us next year?”

Namelessnumberheadman’s victory in a category otherwise populated by beat-crazy DJs qualified as the second-biggest surprise of the night, after the appearance of a few Get Up Kids to accept their award for Best Pop Band. Apparently, the Kids attend in shifts; this was the first Music Awards cameo for bassist Robert Pope. By picking up its prize for the second consecutive year, the Kids have proven scene-centered enough to merit local-band attention despite the group’s national scope. And as Pope soon discovered, winning comes with privileges — he and members of Season to Risk, who took Best Metal/Hardcore Honors, lit up backstage, showing blatant disregard for the Uptown’s infamous smoke-free policies. S2R singer Steve Tulipana needed the nicotine to calm his frazzled nerves. “I can go up on stage and take off my pants and spit and do anything when we’re playing,” he said, “but I get so nervous just being up there for fifteen seconds for that speech.” Perhaps looking to spread the anxiety, Season to Risk told the crowd “this award belongs to Descension,” much to the grunted approval of that group’s face-painted black-metal gremlins.

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Few of the artists nominated had ever played at the Uptown before Friday night, save Tech N9ne and Best Female Vocalist Myra Taylor, who played every Saturday night at the venue during the late ’30s and early ’40s. Despite her stunning Showcase performance at McCoy’s on April 5, Taylor didn’t gather enough support to generate a return trip to the stage. Instead, Kristie Stremel pulled ahead in the Awards’ tightest race, a development that surprised the singer/songwriter despite prior success in the category. “I wasn’t expecting to win,” Stremel said backstage, explaining/lamenting her dirty jeans. Liz Nord, singer for Best Punk winners Sister Mary Rotten Crotch, also opted for casual attire. She considered a dress to match her pink-hued hair but decided against it after surveying her bruised and battered legs, which bore the brunt of her Showcase fury.

The most glamorous outfit of the evening might have belonged to one of the players in BCR, who donned a silver-chandelier headdress similar to one sported by Jennifer Garner during a recent Alias episode. (The group also featured a venerable bearded percussionist who seemed to be banging away on the Stanley Cup.) The world-music ensemble joined smooth-talking jazz vocalist David Basse for an upbeat interpretation of “Spill That Wine,” but neither nominated artist would be spilling any celebratory spirits — Best World/Reggae went to ska stalwarts Ruskabank, and Best Jazz again ended up in the Malachy Papers‘ eclectic hands. (Or rather in the paws of Big Jeter/Trouble Junction/Minds Under Cover drummer/weirdo John Bersuch, who took the stage after Henry called him out for his Bono-style shades.)

Except for Tech N9ne, none of the performers took home mantle decorations, a trend that differs markedly from the Grammys’ play-then-win blueprint. In fact, two of the groups (Hadacol and Kill Creek) played after learning their fates, which the former band noted with faux bitterness before kicking into a foundation-shaking country stomper. Dirty Force, a colorfully attired, horn-heavy ensemble who marched through the audience after the presentation of Best Live Act, didn’t win, either, though to be fair, these gate-crashers weren’t nominees or the recipients of even a single write-in vote. By bumrushing the show, Dirty Force earned the annual Ol’ Dirty Bastard award for unexpected interruption — 2001’s winner, Big Jeter, was thwarted this year in his attempt to accept the Gadjits’ Live Act award (and likely raise some hell in the process) when Officer Shorrock stepped out to patrol the podium beat.

For every uninvited artist who performed nonetheless, there were a couple who failed to show despite being on the A-list. The Best Country/Roots/Bluegrass title, as well as the Best Male Vocalist award, went to Rex Hobart, who was holed up in an out-of-town studio crafting his new miserable experience. (His wife, Paula, and frequent soundman Randy Wolf accepted in his absence.) Another no-show was Sonny Kenner Memorial Best Blues Performer title-holder Brody Buster, who, fretted his brother-in-law Dan Dorn, was caught in highway traffic.

Fortunately, Best Folk victor Julia Peterson was on hand, and Ryan Mattes, singer of Best New Band Last of the V8s, was in fine middle-finger-flipping form. Later, the V8s thrashed through an alcohol-addled set at The Pub, having passed the usual appealingly obnoxious stage and staggered into an incoherent stupor. With liquor intake, timing is everything — a few hours earlier, the V8s might have been steady-handed enough to pound out the type of sloppy, jagged-edged rock for which canned-beat-hating traditionalists were clamoring during Tech’s final act. But sometimes that’s just the way the cookie crumbles.