THE WORST PRESS CONFERENCE IN HISTORY twas the week before Christmas, we went down to guam/ the money was good but our show was a bomb last december, Ugly Duckling (Official) (the moderately successful, underground hip-hop group of which i am a member) was invited to join The Pharcyde and OPIO of Souls Of Mischief at the west coast invasion festival in guam, a beautiful u.s. island territory somewhere in the middle of the south pacific ocean. upon receiving the request to travel to and perform at such an exotic and tropical locale, einstein, Dizzy Dustin and i were excited to make the trip and curious to know what kind of following we enjoyed in the distant paradise; turns out none. to be fair, this wasnt a huge surprise for me but i did assume a classic rap band like the pharcyde and opio, a veteran m.c. and Hieroglyphics hero, would move customers through the turnstiles but, unfortunately, nobody came, and I mean nobody. what made this somewhat familiar experience particularly frustrating was that it appeared our festivals promoters had put forth serious energy in publicizing the show throughout guam and one would imagine that entertainment competition on a remote island would be marginal at best. sadly, nothing was a bigger draw than us that day. soon after arriving at antonio b. won pat international airport, all of the participating groups did radio and television interviews which were, to our delight, repeatedly aired on local broadcast stations, seemed like a good sign. before the concert, as we were driven through different areas of guam, we noticed many large, well-designed west coast invasion posters hanging on city walls and inside shop windows, also good. in addition to those healthy build-up efforts, we were told that a serious online push was to have taken place leading into the big weekend so as artie fufkin said in spinal tap, they did mass. but the promo event that, we were told, would really cap off the publicity campaign was a scheduled press conference and autograph session which, in theory, would be a chaotic and exciting beatlemania-esque happening; screaming fans, flashing light bulbs and snappy answers to silly questions. pharcyde, opio and u.d. were to address the media one day before the show at micronesia mall, guams largest shopping arena and when it was time to leave our hotel for the much anticipated pubic appearance, we were all a bit curious and cautiously excited about the meet-n-greet. around 3pm oceanic time, a white hum vie, stretch-limousine pulled up at the lobby door which, of course, caused everyone to brake into hysterical laughter before comedically piling into the gaudy, clown-car on steroids like the cast of jersey shore. when our spaceship landed at the mall, we, literally, climbed down out of the limo to be greeted not by overly-excited teenage girls or swarms of rude paparazzi but only the sweltering, jungle heat of the island and a parking lot attendant telling our driver he couldnt park where he was currently stationed. as quickly as possible, we entered the crisply air-conditioned mall and took in the paradoxical holiday décor replete with blaring yuletide music, human-sized candy canes, a miniature north pole express train for the kiddies, artificial snow falling from the rafters and, of course, a massive Christmas tree in the center of the center. set within this magical holiday wonderland was a large stage upon which sat tables, chairs and microphones for the men of the hour to field numerous questions and bless the awestruck guamanians with signatures. as everyone took in the scene, we collectively wondered where our throngs of admirers were gathered and when the press was going to get to the conference. there were no (not one) reporters, photographers or fans present and, somewhat eerily, we got the sense that wed arrived a few hours too early. unfortunately, we were right on time. a tiny ray of promise emerged when ugly ducklings own sweet yet slightly naïve rodney pleasant (einstein) returned from a desperate micronesia reconnaissance mission and reported that there was a line of school children stretched around the building to get our autographs. just then, all dreams were dashed when, in one of my favourite career moments, our friendly but uneasy promoter informed rod that the kids were there to see santa claus, not us. by this point, our only prayer was that the entire debacle would be cancelled and we could jump back in the hummer to retreat to our beachside hotel rooms; no such luck. one reporter did finally arrive and kindly instructed her cameraman to shoot us at a clever angle that would disguise the uneventfulness of the event before we were each sent to the podium like convicted criminals to the gallows. rodney, dustin and i stepped up to the dreaded table first (were the opening act) and as we did, we saw booty brown and opio laughing down at us from the second level balcony while imani stood stage left awaiting his own demise (please see the footage so you can see im not exaggerating). mariah careys all i want for Christmas is you filled the building with holiday cheer while ugly duckling stood on the stage red-faced and confused for what seemed like hours. i dont remember if anyone asked us a question but we certainly didnt sign any autographs and when our turn was over, i put my head down and rushed to the food court to hide among the abandoned trays. strangely enough, this tremendously awkward situation didnt look so bad when i had the surreal opportunity to watch coverage of it on the local news that very evening. in fact, the various group members and i seemed to come across as important, international celebrities but all the media doctoring in the world couldnt save the actual festival which featured more security and concession people in attendance than fans which, despite the importance of safety and food, is a nightmarish showbiz scenario. the west coast invasion was, crowd-wise, the opposite of woodstock although, to be fair, like woodstock, our promoter eventually opened the gates and allowed people in for free. the difference being that during the iconic,1969 music and art fair, complimentary admission was granted because overwhelmingly huge crowds of ticketless hippys begged to be a part of the burgeoning peace movement while, in our case, the people running the festival were merely trying to substitute utter embarrassment for complete embarrassment. as the difficult reality of the situation set in, we did our best to put on a quality show for an under-eager audience of people who were either let in at no cost or actually being paid to attend. when our performance was over, we hopped into the infamous hum vie and got out of there as fast as we could, praying the promoters would still take us to the airport the next day. now, let us never speak of this again. merry Christmas!
Posted on: Wed, 24 Dec 2014 17:00:01 +0000
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