“Spark it up, Sparky!”

by JOHNSON CUMMINS

First off, I would like to thank all of the people who responded to last week’s column on the sudden rash of Jimmy Buffett fans known as “Parrottheads.” It was nice to know I’m not the only one who enjoys basking in the banal. Of course, for the more hardcore of us who dare to travel beyond the beige, I have searched out the World Wide Web for the truly God-awful, and have came up with some terrific digs. Do some searches for the Linda McCartney soloed vocal from the soundboard as she warbles through “Let It Be,” truly tasteless celebrity records by Harlequin cover model Fabio or the Ethel Merman Sings Disco record. But nothing would prepare me for the utter stench of Fort Worth, Texas’s YouTube sensations Complete.

These four backwoods lunkheads got their musical calling card in the mid-‘90s, but it was only through a chance viewing on a cable access show in 1997 called “Music Venue” that they would forever live in infamy. The person who happened to chance upon this videotaped performance on a lazy Sunday afternoon was Dave Hoekstra, who quickly phoned the TV station, requested a videotape copy and posted the video online. After 165,000 views of their “hit,” “Hoogie Boogie Land,” Complete quickly earned the coveted title of “the worst band ever.”

GIVER ‘ER WORST: Complete

I’ll offer some credit where credit is due and say the title is indeed well earned. No easy feat, for sure, but it’s almost baffling how bad this band is. Some of the more highbrow comparisons cite the genius of Captain Beefheart’s Trout Mask Replica as an influence, but contrary to the untrained ear, the good Captain had run his band with precision by locking them up in a house for over a year, rehearsing for the two-record set; the form of Trout Mask Replica becomes clear after repeated listens.

I suppose comparisons to the No Neck Blues Band or The Nihilist Spasm Band could be made, but Complete couldn’t give a toss about those artsy-fartsy supply teachers, and perhaps delusionally thought they were actually creating heavy metal like their heroes Van Halen and Judas Priest. Guitarist Peter would change chords in a random order as the rudimentary riffs of bassist “Sparky” and choppy chops of drummer “T Dawg” would make little to no effort to keep up with the changes.

In the famed videotaped performance, Sparky dons a Dr. Seuss hat, while T Dawg appears to be on an Oxycontin nod as singer Curtis Low twirls the mic stand and improvises lyrics like “Spark it up, Sparky!” or “Into the night/I can see the darkness of night.” After repeated listens, the real star of the show is easily Curtis, whose caterwauling has to be heard to be believed. Recent interviews with Curtis reveals he got a perm to resemble his hero Sammy “Davis” Hagar (?!), but it’s his unusual vocal style—with a slight whistle hiding behind his nonsensical lyrics, emanating from the loss of a front tooth—that really sends this into dementia. Trying to describe this stench is truly like dancing about architecture, so just do yourself a favour and stick “Hoogie Boogie Land” in your YouTube search engine, or get your cyber-ass to www.myspace.com/completefanpage or www.cmpt.blogspot.com. You’re welcome.

BRINGING YOU BEIGE IN TECHNICOLOR SINCE 2004…JONATHAN.CUMMINS@GMAIL.COM