The sound of 'music'...

OK, so the social thing isn't going as well as I'd planned. But then, what did I expect? To say I'm out of practice is a slight understatement.

Last Friday, I attended a party. As the evening went on, and one awkward moment lurched into the next to help turn the night into a memory that will take me years to suppress, the party became the audience for a deafening Queen tribute band.

Although 'Freddie', sporting one of the strangest moustaches I've ever seen, missed the occasional note, it was no big deal. But that all changed when he launched into I Want to Break Free.

Was he reading my mind or what?

With every amp in the place turned up to an ear splitting 11, you just knew he wasn't going to hit those notes, even with a pole vault. And what was the deal with the moustache? Stetching from mid-cheek to mid-cheek, it defied the laws of physics.

As the party season gets underway, we enter the time of the tribute band. I still recall that New Years Eve four years ago when I was tricked into attending a 70's tribute night. As a matter of fact, 70 also turned out to be the average age of the band members.

Really, blue rinses and glittery spandex don't mix. It's just wrong.

And eerie.

I still recall the keyboard player wearing flares, platform shoes and a generous helping of 'Deep Heat'. When it came to Hi Ho Silver Lining, the roadie had to run on stage to help him to his feet.

Although sometimes touching on the cheesy, sometimes the cringe-worthy, I think the world would be a duller place without the tribute band. Their enthusiasm is contagious, their dedication overwhelming. To call some a tribute band is a gross injustice; those who have seen Musical Box on stage know exactly what I mean.

Tribute bands may be corny. They may even be off key here and there, but long may they continue.

'Freddie' was pretty close last Friday night when he said, "It's a kind of magic"...