Another sect of entertainers takes it to the next level. Not only do they cover others’ music, they limit their performance to the music of one particular group…the music of what one may surmise is their favorite band…or what they hope is someone’s favorite band. A band so popular, beloved and amazing, the audience won’t care they aren’t hearing the original, provided the impersonators are an authentic recreation in sight and sound.
Member of this faction, my friends, are the Tribute Bands.
Typically, the artists being saluted have…um…moved beyond their days of glory, though their flame still burns brightly. KISS, ABBA, Elvis, The Beatles (of course)…they’re all out there, some based here in Indiana. Recently an Alan Jackson imitator crossed my desk, which was kind of odd, since Mr. Jackson is still recording great music and not one I’d consider requiring a tribute just yet.
I’ve booked several tribute bands over the years. You like Poison? Their praises have been sung (or screamed) at the Fair. How about Jerry Lee Lewis? Audiences showed their admiration at “his” shows the past two years. Johnny Cash more your speed? I’ve hired his vocal likeness as well. And lest we forget the Elvis Impersonator Contest, which has become a staple of Indiana State Fair programming, consistently drawing huge crowds and growing each year.I’ve often kicked around the idea of holding a Tribute Band Day on the Main Street Stage but never done it. This year, the idea has been floated around to host such an event in the Hoosier Lottery Grandstand. How fun would that be???
What do you think? Let’s say, for kicks, a Tribute Band Day is scheduled at the 2010 Indiana State Fair. Who would you like to see? Me…I’m banking on John Denver. (Yes, even John has a tributeur.)
Submitted by Bobbi Bates
1985. That’s my brother Eric on the left and me on the right, at age 6. We’re showing off our souvenirs from the State Fair in front of Grandma’s lemon-yellow house. I specifically remember picking out the inflatable sword in hopes that Eric would think it was neat, not because I really wanted it. I’m pretty sure it didn’t work--maybe because the koala t-shirt made me decidedly less cool.
1990. Eric is 12, and stylish to boot. Apparently all the cool kids were wearing their watches on their forearms, and that forearm is gesturing to the best orange muffins in Perry County.
Mom, Eric, Grandma, and me. I remember this moment. We’re sharing an elephant ear in front of the Home and Family Arts Building. Please pay special attention to how my socks match my t-shirt; I worked hard to look that good. I especially enjoy the logo on the right side of the bench—one that is still used today and is familiar to fairgoers.
Dad decided to let us take his picture. Grandma is taking the photo. That’s her denim pocketbook (always a pocketbook, never a purse) on the right. I hate to think we made Grandma hop off the shuttle to snap the picture and then make a run for it to get back on, but I can only assume her lack of home air conditioning made it easy for her to be active in the out-of-doors when needed.








