Whatever Happened To The Guitar Heroes?

Two of the more licentious Guitar Hero groupies, no doubt riddled today with venereal disease
Two of the infamous Guitar Hero groupies. Today they are no doubt riddled with venereal disease.

Can it really be a decade since Guitar Hero first came on the scene and completely reconfigured the cultural landscape as we know it? Not quite, it’s only been nine years but we’re struggling for features.

The release of Guitar Hero in 2005 was the logical conclusion of the democratization of music at the turn of the century. Bands going big on Myspace used to be cool, but by ‘05 it seemed exclusive and snooty. ‘La-de-da, you can actually play your own instruments, well done you’ve got genuine talent’ etc.

Guitar Hero was the much needed cure for those who wanted to get on in music without musical accomplishment getting in the way. But to rephrase Radiohead, anyone can play Guitar Hero (but who exactly would want to?) Well I was there, at the start, when the movement was germinating this side of the Atlantic and all the art house snob wankers on the South Bank and at Q magazine declared it would never catch on. They weren’t half wrong. They were fully wrong.

In 2007 a bunch of us were sagging school and buying cigs when Fat Gaz invited us round Chez His. Honestly, I wasn’t keen because his Mum had far too many cats. But we went anyway and it just so happened that in his sitting room, over by the fire place, leaning against his off-off-white sofa, was one of those shitting cats. And next to that cat was a Guitar Hero guitar. And next to that was another cat.

None of us had seen anything like it.

‘What the fuck’s that, Fat Gaz?’ I boomed. I was even more detestable back then.

‘Yeah, what the fuck??’ Jimmy chimed in, pretty much reinforcing the wonderment I had just expressed.

Without further ado, Fat Gaz flicked on the tube, booted up the console and proceeded to send a shockwave through the the musical, neigh, political status quo. He absolutely nailed the lead guitar for Hotel California on medium mode, whatever that was, and it was bloody brilliant. We couldn’t leave even if we wanted to.

It was on that very day, in that room, that the group called Nameless was formed. As owner of the game, Fat Gaz naturally became the band’s front man despite his utter lack of singing ability and charisma, conventional or otherwise.

The rest of Nameless assembled (literally) around Fat Gaz: Jimmy on bass, Red Reg on guitar and Jody Miller on the drums. Jody Miller. I could only watch on, dumbstruck, as the fittest girl in our school mastered the intricacies of the 4/4 beat on some plastic pads. Could she play the fills? No, not really but that was the point. Well it wasn’t the point but God- it was Jody Miller, you know?

The one time Jody did complete a drum fill properly she was so overcome with animal power that she dropped her sticks, marched me outside and snogged me so hard against the wheelie bins I had a groove in my back for a week and a half. She didn’t even know who I was. I was just the first person she saw and I wasn’t complaining.

I did have a bit of a moan about the back though, but not to her face. I took it out on my little cousin Terry instead.

laurence-hartje-riyad-kalla-playing-rock-band
That’s not Jody. She didn’t have a beard or glasses.

Nameless went from strength to strength, sweeping up all the accolades worth bothering about including the much coveted Band Hero award for (Don’t Fear) The Reaper, the brackets of which have always intrigued me.

Jimmy, who’d been trained in classical Spanish guitar, sold his family’s Alhambra in order to concentrate on the Playstation bass and swore never to return to real guitar, acoustic or otherwise. It really was a time of staunchly drawn battle lines; there was an iconoclasm and cultural conviction that the current generations can only dream about.

Meanwhile Red Reg was carving out his own unique style. A self-professed ‘fret wanker’ with a tendency for launching into a knee slide at any opportunity, his now much imitated manner of playing became known as Double Whammy².

The pieces were falling into place.

Rocking Out
Rocking out.

7 years on from the band’s formation, I spoke to Jody Miller about the glory days. She now has her own air freshener company and she’s got a family too.

‘I can remember the night we got spotted,’ Jody tells me, wearing a Christmas tree car freshener as a necklace, ‘We got spotted by Jan, the old Czech man from next door. He leaned over the fence and told us to turn it down.’

‘And what did you do?’

‘We turned it up.’

This was symptomatic of everything the group stood for. Red Reg (now just ‘Reg’) agrees. ‘The older generations didn’t understand us, and we liked that fine.’

I asked Jimmy for his favourite thing about the group and he stroked his chin for 20 seconds before exhaling loudly and asking me to repeat the question.

‘Oh I know- it introduced us to cool bands. Thanks to Guitar Hero we knew at least, and at most, one song for all the good bands. People would say ‘You know the Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs?’ and I’d go ‘Yeah: Maps’ and look at them like they’d just asked me something offensively stupid.’

They all clam up when I turn my attention to their touring days. Suddenly, they no longer want to recall. As an eyewitness to the hedonistic escapades, I can see why.

The night they dragged the gear round to Timothy Steel’s basement, the entire band was up till quarter to one in the morning, hepped up on Dominos and Sprite. So was I of course, but I didn’t have to play in front of three other people. You wouldn’t have known it either: they were note perfect on easy.

‘It was almost as if we were so worried about seeming bad, or a bit hypo, that we pulled it out the bag’ is Reg’s assessment of the bewildering Steel basement gig.

Equally as raucous was the New Year’s Eve shindig at Jimmy’s Nan’s in 2009. Just as Nile Rogers and Bernard Edwards were denied access to Studio 54 on New Year’s Eve 1977, Clara Waits had made it quite clear that if any of our gang came near her party she’d batter us all personally. The band turned rejection into art, and that night Fat Gaz sung a particularly doleful version of Mr.Brightside that will never be forgotten. Finally, somebody was speaking up for us, the disenfranchised youth (me, Suzie Manning and Tim Steel).

It's All Over Now?
It’s All Over Now?

As good as that New Year’s was, I knew the wheels were coming off the wagon. Fat Gaz was no longer in full control of the band. In the end, it was Jimmy who left Nameless first. He was quickly followed by Jody who got hitched to the son of a local business man. Remembering the sudden collapse of the group, Fat Gaz looks as sad as the night he howled out Mr.Brightside. His conclusion: ‘Jimmy quit, Jody got married. Should have known we’d never get far.’

When I raise the possibility of a reunion all four of them are forthright with their doubts, from Jimmy (‘The moment’s gone. The world’s moved on.’) to Fat Gaz (‘Think the disc’s scratched, mate.’)

Perhaps it’s for the best. Cut short in its prime, Nameless’ musical legacy is assured and arguably unsullied by the commercially motivated comeback that is so commonplace these days. But still, I can’t help but feel remorse that the once virile magic of the note highway has merged with the irretrievable distance of memory lane, never to return to cultural centre stage. Good night to the Guitar Heroes.

 

Ten Ways To Look GREAT This Summer

 

  1. Change Society’s Perception Of Beauty

Contrary to some common beliefs, beauty is not timeless. So, chill- you’re not ugly, your face is just out of fashion.

Fun fact: in Victorian England they liked their ladies’ skin ghostpale and their men to have rasta hair covered in flour. This goes to show nobody knows what will be the next big look.

On the other hand it can take hundreds of years for the way you are to be considered ‘okay looking, I guess’ or ‘acceptable if only to end a dry spell.’

Long wait, folks, but no pain, no gain.

 

  1. Move Somewhere That Accepts Your Kind

Can’t wait for the sands of time? Then leave your family and follow me, cultural diversity!

There has to be one society out there that won’t stone you on sight, right? Emigrate there.

For instance, in the former and future USSR it’s kitsch to be an obese male in order to totally signify wealth, power and security from government brutality.

 

  1. Accessorize Well

Why not purchase a plot of land on the moon, frame the property deeds and wear it as a medallion?

Animals in bags? Stat. A dog’s a little obvious though- try a marsupial. Fill a bumbag full of jelly, pop it in, zip it up and get out there. Double stat.

Or, if you’re going for the mysterious vibe, look no further than smoke bombs.

Meeting a blind date? Smoke bomb.

Diamond Anniversary meal? Smoke bomb.

Desirability perfected.

 

  1. Hire An Entourage

But whatever you do, don’t acknowledge them. Play it cool this summer.

Choosing the right entourage is tough. Dance troupe, yes. Band of dirty street urchins, no. Shakespeare’s gone, get over it.

 

  1. Frequent A House Of Mirrors

When you find the mirror for you, you’ll know. (Tip: it won’t be the fairest of them all.) Communicate only via your chosen mirror. No exceptions.

 

  1. Camouflage Yourself

Out of sight, out of mind. Now you’re invisible people are bound to ease up around you and enjoy themselves. Like a good sport officialatorée the less you’re noticed, the better you’re doing.

 

  1. Get Enough Beauty Sleep

For you this probably means hibernating until next summer. OMG summer is so close, guys!

 

  1. Date An Apiarist

Beauty is in the eye of the bee holder so why not date one? Since they keep bees as their livelihood they probably haven’t met people yet, so they’ll have nothing to compare you to.

Better yet become an apiarist yourself and take full advantage of the amazing apparel. Mesh on your face and white all over, amateur spaceman chic is so hot.

 

  1. Reincarnate

A touch metaphysical, we know, but trial and error could be your best bet. I am so excited for summer right now.

 

  1. Achieve Inner Peace and Contentment

For you this means giving up/resigning yourself to your miserable excuse for existence. Summer!