But nothing can ruin a bar faster than a shitty band. Here I am, hoping to simply enjoy a night out at a bar when you have to go and play there and make me pay $5 to listen to you squawk out the type of crap that if it were on the radio I'd change the channel. It was a nice touch to have a nu-metal equivalent to each one of your band members, however; including the blonde-tipped frontman, the chubby latino gutiar player, the guy with the six long braids and the bass player who doesn't wear a shirt and jumps too much.
You made conversation with my friends impossible. It sickens me that by my mere presence at that bar, my begrudgingly donated five spot is encouranging you to make more music.
Oh, and having the sound on the singer at a lower volume than the rest of the band doesn't make you anything like Tool.