2. Authenticity and tribute music performance

To understand how authenticity is constructed in tribute music performance, it is necessary to look beyond the term’s use in popular music discourse to free it of its theoretical constrictions and contextual bias. The contested nature of the term’s usage throughout music history, as well as the apparent need for scholars to define it for use in popular music, is perhaps a substantiation of its malleability. It is for this reason that Bruner (Reference Bruner1994, p. 408) suggests that authenticity should be viewed ‘as a struggle, a social process, in which competing interests argue for their own interpretation of history’. Allan Moore (Reference Moore2002, p. 210) extends this viewpoint, stating that authenticity is ‘a matter of interpretation which is made and fought for from within a cultural and, thus, historicised position’. Hence, while the manner in which scholars apply and define the term has shifted and changed to suit different musical idioms, authenticity is generally understood to be ‘ascribed’ rather than ‘inscribed’ (Moore Reference Moore2002, p. 210), and is dependent on ‘who “we” are’ (Rubidge Reference Rubidge and Campbell1996, p. 219).

Bruner’s (Reference Bruner1994) discussion concerning how modern-day museums strive to authentically replicate ‘historical sites’ is not only a significant addition to discussions surrounding authenticity but also is pertinent to music performance on several levels. Certainly, while the methods and delineations are not directly linked, they have a substantial bearing upon tribute music, particularly considering Meyers’ (Reference Meyers2015, p. 70) assertion that tribute shows are also historical ‘sites’ to be interpreted, and which are loaded with ‘historical weight and depth’. Bruner (Reference Bruner1994, pp. 399–401) outlines four ‘meanings’ of authenticity: ‘verisimilitude’ (how convincing the reproduction is), ‘genuineness’ (historical accuracy), ‘originality’, and ‘authority’ or ‘who has the right to tell the story of the site’ (Bruner Reference Bruner1994, p. 400). This four-pronged approach to categorising the meaning and means of affirming authenticity in historical replication provides a valuable framework in which to consider tribute music performance. It not only sheds light on the multiple criteria that can constitute an interpretation of authenticity but also highlights the previously ambiguous nature of the term’s use in tribute music thus far, where many of the categorisations mentioned above are applied interchangeably or in place of authenticity.Footnote ⁴

3. Authority

The success of a tribute show depends on the relationship between audience and performer, and it is for this reason that the notion of ‘authority’ is of the utmost concern to this research. While this idea is presented throughout tribute music literature, it is regarded generally as a by-product of a tribute band’s commitment to historical and musical knowledge, expressed chiefly through sonic accuracy. Shane Homan (2006b, p. 70) draws on the work of John Fiske (Reference Fiske and Lewis1992, p. 42) to state that tribute musicians and audience members are ‘excessive readers’ who require ‘an intimate knowledge of the songs to satisfy their own and audiences’ satisfaction about the fidelity of the copy’. In this sense, historical accuracy and the emphasis on subtle sonic or historical details give validity to the performers and serve to authenticate them as worthy curators of the historical site. However, Bruner (Reference Bruner1994, p. 400) asserts that it is important to consider the social implications of such a process. He says, ‘The more fundamental question to ask here is not if an object or site is authentic, but rather who has the authority to authenticate’. The acquisition and ascription of authority is an ongoing and generative process that is tethered to the social world and requires musicians to engage in ‘dialogic interplay’ with the audience (Bruner Reference Bruner1994, p. 403).

Individual perceptions and representations of sonic details in tribute music are highly subjective. Such details hinge on the limitations, tastes, and social agenda of who is doing the perceiving and representing.Footnote ⁵ Therefore, each band, whether subconsciously or not, to some extent, performs its own version of history (see Bennett Reference Bennett and Homan2006). Yet, as Homan (2006c, p. 45) exemplifies, many scholars of tribute music consider that ‘the tribute performance, at its centre, is not derived from subjectivity, but objectivity (in search of the perfect copy). The individual tribute musician’s personal and musical history collapses within the broader historical project’. Drawing on Moore (Reference Moore2002, p. 215), Homan concludes that ‘the tribute cannot state “this is what it’s like to be me”’. In contrast, this article suggests that a tribute musician’s personal history is enmeshed intrinsically with the music they play, and thus the outcome of the music’s (re)construction is inherently influenced and limited by everyone involved. While the intention of some tribute bands is doubtless to ‘erase the individual in favour of a faceless franchise’ (Homan Reference Homan and Homan2006b, p. 45), some practitioners feel there is value in accentuating a sense of individuality.Footnote ⁶

This is not to suggest that the aforementioned scholars ignore or are unaware of the influence of personal identity and experience; rather, it tends to be hinted at indirectly and not explored in detail. Andy Bennett (Reference Bennett and Homan2006, p. 28) alludes to the benefits of building rapport with audiences through self-deprecating humour and local knowledge. Similarly, Georgina Gregory (Reference Gregory2013) explores how female hard rock tribute bands challenge gender expectations and subvert the genre’s entrenched masculinist tropes. By performing the repertoire of male artists, female tribute musicians enable audiences to connect with a sense of power and agency through resistance to dominant cultural stereotypes. In this way, individuality and identity generate new and alternative meanings that are both socially expressive and collectively binding. Chris Richards (Reference Richards and Homan2006, p. 116) draws similar conclusions when discussing The Hamsters, a British middle-aged tribute to Jimi Hendrix. He notes that the band reconfigures Hendrix’s music within a British rock tradition, asserting their own ‘musical authenticity’. By treating the music as a ‘“source” rather than as the object of pastiche’, they avoid ‘degrading’ it, and celebrate its relevance in a more culturally viable manner suited to both performer and audience (Richards Reference Richards and Homan2006, p. 116). Straying from historical accuracy does not ‘de-authenticate’ the band but instead imbues them with a context-specific sense of ‘honesty’, ‘sincerity’, and ‘integrity’, terms closely linked to the notion of authenticity (Moore Reference Moore2002, p. 209). Here, authenticity is being authentic to oneself rather than to the musical text.

The studies mentioned above highlight that many tribute musicians often, strategically, or otherwise, locate themselves in relation to the music to resonate with the audience. Instead of solely seeking to project an accurate impression of musical history, some tribute musicians strive to project their own history and relationship with the music to legitimise themselves as ‘truthful’ ambassadors of it. Authority, or ‘who has the right to tell the story of the site’ (Bruner Reference Bruner1994, p. 400), is therefore both a constituent and expression of authenticity. To contextualise the discussion so far, the following ethnographic vignette describes a Smyths performance in Perth, after which I explore the myriad ways in which Graham and The Smyths purposely put themselves in the music.

4. 28 February 2020, The Smyths, Bar1, Hillary’s Boat Harbour

My first physical engagement with The Smyths was on a Friday night in February 2020, at the Bar1 nightclub in Hillary’s Boat Harbour that would prove to be the band’s last gig until the United Kingdom’s temporary easing of COVID-19 lockdown restrictions 9 months later in November.Footnote ^{7 ,} Footnote ⁸ To some extent, the gig signified my first ‘real’ tribute band experience. I had played in a Stone Roses tribute band named The Stoned Posers for nearly 4 years until that point and witnessed many local or Perth-based tribute performances. Yet, none of these experiences seemed to match the calibre that one would expect from a tribute band that tours internationally. For me – and, I imagine, for many people intrigued about the tribute phenomena and its socio-musical implications – it prompted questions such as: ‘How “good” does a tribute band need to be to tour or gain recognition on an international level?’ and ‘What does “good” mean in this context?’ Moreover, the very idea of a touring tribute band signified another level of tribute membership, suggesting that the members are fully committed to one band and tour relentlessly as a means of financial income. This contrasts with many of the tribute bands I had witnessed and played alongside in Perth, who function primarily as social outlets that are prioritised for the recreational benefits of band members. With this performance occurring prior to the commencement of my fieldwork into tribute shows, my instinctual preconception – not so much of The Smyths in particular, but of the idea of a touring tribute band – aligned with many of the more cynical scholarly assessments. It is difficult not to ignore notions of ‘insincerity’ and ‘deception’ that are assumedly involved in a band making a living out of someone else’s music. Nevertheless, due to being a huge Smiths fan since my teenage years, the convenient geographical proximity of the gig, my general curiosity about tribute music, and my interest from the standpoint of being involved in a tribute band, I attended the gig with great anticipation.

The band members came out on stage, swaggering to the raucous drum rhythm of ‘The Queen Is Dead’ (1986) filling the room. It was instantly clear that the act was experienced and musically accomplished. However, any initial enjoyment I was reaping from the live sound was underpinned by an unnerving sensation that I could not quite put into words. In hindsight, and to put it bluntly, the lead singer, Graham, unnerved me. Loping around the stage with his shirt undone, dyed quiff and thick-rimmed glasses, Graham looked, moved, and sounded too much like Morrisey, the iconic lead singer of the band to which I had spent hours listening in my bedroom while reading guitar magazines as a teenager.Footnote ⁹ Sonically speaking, I refrain here from attesting that the band sounded ‘just like the real thing’ as I have never experienced the original act in a live setting. Nonetheless, I will say unreservedly that the band sounded ‘convincing’ and, more importantly, they sounded like a good live band. Considering how accurately Graham was ‘performing’ Morrissey, and how uncomfortably convincing he was as the frontman of one of my favourite musical acts, I admit that the whole situation was somewhat unsettling.

But this was not the case for the whole performance. Graham proved to be an accomplished frontman, with a charismatic personality that shone through the act, inspiring a sense of comfort and relatability in the audience. As the gig progressed, Graham gave glimpses into ‘himself’ and his own life. For example, he mentioned his wife of Irish origin and the torment he receives from her for the United Kingdom’s abandonment of the European Union due to Brexit. He then alluded to how the very man he was portraying is a staunch ‘Brexiteer’, saying, ‘it’s probably best if we all ignore Morrisey’s more recent political statements’.Footnote ¹⁰ Such stories and insights ultimately served to distance Graham and his fellow performers from the band they were tributing and drew light to himself as an individual musician and human being. As the audience got to know him, and as we were gradually made aware that the band members were on an equal footing with the audience in terms of fandom, any sense of discomfort and awkwardness slid away. It was almost the reversal of how a tribute show normally unfolds: rather than the tribute musician intermittently and strategically providing cues and links to feed the audience’s desire and align with their musical knowledge and perception of history, Graham seemed to work backwards in purposely displaying more and more of himself and his situation in relation to the music. As I later found out, Graham’s approach to performance centres around a process in which he puts himself into the music, or perhaps more fittingly, is unable to remove himself because his identity is inseparably informed and constituted by it.

5. ‘More Than a Tribute – The Smiths Experience’

My first correspondence with Graham took place a year after my attendance at The Smyths’ gig at Bar1 in February 2020. He was helpful in organising the meeting, an experience I did not share with all the non-Perth-based tribute bands that I reached out to during my research. I was also thankful that Graham is a self-assured and experienced speaker. He not only employs delicate and sophisticated prose but constructs his thoughts logically, concisely, and imaginatively. I imagine this ability to be almost a social necessity for someone who is the frontman of a successful tribute to a well-respected band such as The Smiths, especially if that band has existed for over 17 years (not to mention the idiosyncratically barbed personality traits of Morrissey that one would assumedly be expected to acquire). Indeed, Graham’s arduous interview with Morley (Reference Morley2011) is possibly a substantiation of the grit and quick wittedness required of a person in his situation. While he stated that many people felt he was unfairly grilled by Morley in the interview, Graham did not hold the same view and saw Morley’s probing as a blunt exemplification of society’s general cynicism towards tribute music. Nonetheless, Graham rose to the challenge with a humble demeanour and seemed to relish the opportunity to portray an alternative viewpoint of the role of tribute musicians in popular culture. In fact, afterwards, he was rather positive about the whole experience, and in metaphorically taking on a temporary role as a union representative for tribute musicians worldwide, felt he had somewhat ‘fended him off’.

To demonstrate how Graham and The Smyths highlight their relationship to the music they perform to conjure a sense of authority, it is necessary to briefly delve into their history. Like many tribute bands, yet contrary to how they are often recognised in scholarly debate, The Smyths grew out of individual original projects, and, even today, the band functions alongside projects that are, as Graham puts it, ‘thriving and very active’. Graham states that this facet of the band’s history and identity is important because it signifies why the band members are involved in the music industry in the first place. Graham says, ‘We don’t do the tribute band because that’s all we can do, we do the tribute band because we choose to, because it’s our passion’. Rather than the tribute enterprise being reserved for those musicians who lack creativity or functioning as a ‘musical apprenticeship’ to develop skills for use within original projects (Morrow Reference Morrow and Homan2006, p. 191), the members of The Smyths choose tribute music performance out of their personal investment and interest in the music of The Smiths.

In divulging the band’s roots, however, Graham almost concedes that they had, to some degree, fallen back on tribute music. Yet, rather than framing this in a light that could suggest a lack of creativity or musical aptitude, Graham emphasises how their circumstances primed the band for undertaking such a musical task. He states, ‘We found ourselves in our earlier thirties with all this energy and nowhere to go with it. We wanted to be a really great live band with all the swagger and swerve of an [original] indie band’. Consequently, the tribute show platform gave the band a medium to harness and express their unrequited musical desires. But rather than sounding like a ‘last resort’, it is more like a calling. Graham’s comments allude to how the band’s musicality, musicianship, and musical experiences are inextricably tied to their performative style, as opposed to the common understanding that tribute and cover-based opportunities serve as means to acquire such musical traits for more purposeful use in original projects.

Being emotionally invested in a particular music artist or style to the extent of wanting to form a tribute band entails taking on considerable responsibility. Graham discusses how, as a fan of the music, a performer not only works to convince the audience that he is worthy of the position he has assigned to himself, but he is also trying to meet the audience’s standards as an avid listener. Such a sense of responsibility is further intensified when the tribute in question focuses on a band with a short yet revered musical career, with Graham acknowledging that The Smiths are ‘almost viewed in a quasi-religious way’. Indeed, Morley (Reference Morley2011) furthers this, questioning if tributing a band like The Smiths contradicts the original ‘spirit’ of the band and the movement. He states, ‘The spirit was originality, newness, creating something new out of the past, [or] interacting with the past but wondering what next. Whereas to an extent you’re interacting with the past full stop’. The perception of a band with such a reputation for originality and ‘newness’ is understandably a theoretical hurdle for a tribute act. Yet, as fans of the music, Graham feels they are appropriately positioned and therefore sympathetic to the demanding nature of Smiths fans:

While there is a technical and musical standard to be upheld in tribute music, there is a certain fallibility of focusing only on the text itself. It is the acquired knowledge through experiencing the original band’s music which Graham emphasises, exemplified by a perceived understanding of Morrissey’s personality. The band embraced a certain responsibility, motivated by and reliant upon a genuine connection to and love of the band and the music. Graham’s use of the terms ‘authentic’ and ‘genuine’ in this context thus appears to serve a dual function: convey the music accurately yet do so with a sincere and truthful understanding and emotional investment in the band and the music.

The duty of being stylistically accurate or convincing while also striving to project musical and personal genuineness is apparently a fine line in tribute music performance. Graham explains the potential pitfalls that tribute musicians face in such an undertaking. He states that:

Graham’s affiliation with the artist he tributes displays a sincere and empathetical nature. Rather than striving for accuracy at the risk of performing a parody or ridiculing the artist, he expresses a desire for his audience to experience and value the artist as he does.

In fact, it is how Graham performs Morrissey that exudes a certain amount of genuineness. Graham does not see the performance of Morrisey as a role but as a facet of his identity, influenced and generated through real-life experiences with the music. Or, in other words, an introspective process rather than striving to ‘play a role’. Indeed, a problematic element of being true to one’s own character is that it can at times contradict the historical ‘accuracy’ of the performance. Graham said:

Here, different meanings of authenticity work against one another to constitute an overall impression of authenticity. Although his performance may waver in accuracy, Graham is ultimately being true to himself and his own character traits. This is reminiscent of Richards’ (Reference Richards and Homan2006) findings, in that by re-configuring the performance through his own personality, Graham is expressing a more sincere performance, being authentic to himself.

Despite the acknowledgement that his performance can at times be inaccurate, Graham endorses his approach and connection to the music by contrasting it against performers who do not share the same attachment to the music. Graham alludes to how he has generated a sense of authority due to his personal experiences:

Graham views his performance as an extension of his personality. He feels his identity and life experiences are intermeshed with the original band to the extent that he is inseparable from it. His personal experiences, therefore, inform an organic approach that other performers may not be afforded, meaning that they can only rely on accuracy alone, which may appear contrived or insincere. Rather than striving strategically to play a role, Graham’s life experiences enable his engrained attachment to shine through his personality.

When tribute artists have only technical proficiency and musical accuracy to hand, they may struggle to connect with audiences and reap the necessary authority needed to fulfil a performance role. Graham alludes to this lack of authority in relation to another, now defunct, Smiths tribute band in the United Kingdom, appropriately named, Other Smiths. He says, ‘A friend of ours went to one of their gigs and said that they didn’t deserve that audience’. The derision of musical competition should of course not be viewed as impartial observations, especially as musicians and bands are ultimately striving continually to legitimise their own positions and practices. Nonetheless, this notion of ‘deserving’ an audience is a strong indicator of Graham’s stance on the significance of authority in tribute music performance. Graham attributes this to the very fact that the Other Smiths lack the vital relationship with the music, which he believes is an imperative conduit for connecting with audiences. He adds, ‘I later found out that the leader of the band wasn’t even a Smiths fan, but a promoter. So, we were everything that band wasn’t, we weren’t doing a tribute for the sake of a tribute’. It is difficult not to sympathise with Graham and perceive a certain amount of insincerity in tribute musicians playing music they are not personally invested in. Considering that a tribute show is ‘exceptional in having fans on both sides of the stage’ (Homan Reference Homan and Homan2006b, p. 78; see also Gregory Reference Gregory2012, p. 138), it is often assumed that the ones on stage should have the necessary requirements to have earned that privilege, and therefore be perceived as an authoritative and authentic voice of the original band and their music.

The success of a tribute show evidently functions on performers and audience members occupying a shared space in terms of taste, personal experience, and musical and cultural understanding. While authority is more commonly assumed to be conjured through ‘mastery and deep knowledge of the music genre (and its boundaries)’ (Homan Reference Homan2006a, p. 3), it can also be signified by perceived personal affiliation with the music. In this sense, imitating the original text too closely suggests an element of ‘sterility’ (Morley Reference Morley2011) as opposed to having ‘life’ or, to put it another way, not invested with ‘emotion’ or ‘feel’. Homan (2006b, p. 74) echoes this sentiment, stating how focusing on accuracy and technical proficiency may lead to some performances being considered ‘too good’. Graham believes that audiences in fact prioritise the tribute band ‘putting themselves in the music’. ‘When I’ve heard about other Smiths tributes, people have said, “It was a little bit too much like the record, there wasn’t enough life”’. However, Graham states that a tribute band must be authorised by audiences to deliver the performance in this way:

One cannot ignore the complexity of this process, where authority is simultaneously authenticated by a genuine performance, yet being genuine is only affirmed and enabled by the audience ‘allowing’ it to happen. Bruner (Reference Bruner1994), pp. 402–3) attests that ‘the professional’s and the public’s view are not independent, for each shape and is shaped by the other, in dialogic interplay’. What is considered authentic, or who is given authority, is not only generated through social interaction but, more significantly, is generated collaboratively between fans of the music, highlighting the participatory role of audiences.Footnote ¹²

Much of what has been said until now may appear trivial without any hard data to back up Graham’s self-validating remarks or, equally, my own subjective assumptions about ‘what audiences desire’. However, having studied the fan testimonials available through The Smyths’ website, it is clear that the processes highlighted above can have considerable weight in the transmission of authority. There is not enough space to list or dissect the many messages from adoring fans of the band and stories of their experiences. So, below I transcribe a snippet of a message from one fan conveniently placed at the top of the list, which I believe accurately captures what I have spoken about throughout most of this section:

Apparent throughout the above excerpt is the strong emotional attachment that the fan ascribes to the original act. Yet, rather than reaping gratification on a purely nostalgic premise, the main pleasure in the tribute experience was the creation of a ‘new memory’. It is not so much their connection to the past and their relationship with the music but more how experiencing the music again has enabled it to generate ‘new meaning’ (Bruner Reference Bruner1994, p. 409). Through social activity, the music is (re)weaved into the fabric of the social landscape, not only serving to perpetuate the band’s ties to the music but also binding them with the audience in the process.Footnote ¹³

The transaction of authority is perhaps better understood here as an act of reciprocal exchange. While tribute musicians must be authenticated as authoritative voices of original acts, for the bestowal of authority to be legitimate, it must come from a place of authority itself. In the example above, the audience member brings to light and perform their connection to the music, generating the required sense of authority to deem The Smyths’ tribute performance as authentic. The fan intimates this by expressing their deep knowledge of specific albums and recordings, their personal and emotional affiliations with certain songs, and their self-attributed ability to recognise musical mastery. This dynamic is reflective of Fiske’s (Reference Fiske and Lewis1992) concept of ‘enunciative productivity’, where audiences actively create meaning through their interpretations and expressions, enabling them to ‘interact meaningfully with peers’ (Gregory Reference Gregory2012, p. 145). It includes singing, wearing band T-shirts or culturally specific clothing, dancing in a stylistically correct manner, and so on. But ultimately, this process is grounded in the expression and recognition of shared understandings and experiences with the music and its historical context (Fiske Reference Fiske and Lewis1992, p. 43). By authenticating The Smyths as a genuine and memorable experience in a public manner, the fans are not only affirming the performance but also validating their own authority and connection to the music. Inadvertently or otherwise, they are actively writing themselves into the overarching socio-musical narrative.

Both the context of a performance and the approaches of a performer have a significant bearing on how meaning is constructed by audiences (Gregory Reference Gregory2012, p. 135). But this notion is also significant for the band members themselves, because even though they are performing the same songs on a regular basis, the musical texts can still develop new meaning. Indeed, an obvious example of this is the song, ‘There is a Light That Never Goes Out’ (1986), which acquired added significance after being scribed onto pavements around St. Anne’s Square in Manchester, United Kingdom, in mourning of those killed or affected by the Manchester arena bombings in 2017 (Fitzgerald Reference Fitzgerald2017). Yet, despite having performed the music of The Smiths on a regular basis since 2003, Graham spoke of how the songs can garner new meaning on a personal level:

The relationship between the performer and the music is continuously (re)constituted and layered with added depth through socio-musical activity. Whether audiences pick up on the subtle nuances of a particularly good performance of a song is not central. What is more important is how the band’s own perception of their authority is reinstated and constantly reinvigorated through the songs garnering added personal significance in situ.

The performer–audience relationship is undoubtedly a significant aspect of tribute music performance. In the interview with Morley (Reference Morley2011), Graham states that the importance of the relationship is not between audience and performer, but between the collective fans and the music being played, therefore dissolving performer–audience distinctions (Turino Reference Turino2008; see also Gregory Reference Gregory2012). He says:

Accordingly, the music is not a text to be performed by musicians to an audience, but a medium that coalesces shared understandings and musical tastes to unite performers and audiences. Some tribute performers may therefore actively seek to connect with the audience by embracing shared experiences and musical affiliations.