Ah, Springville Art City Days. A glorious celebration of Utah small-town pride, kettle corn, and inflatable obstacle courses that look like lawsuits waiting to happen. For one shimmering week, the streets overflow with joy, face paint, and people with too much backstory for a five-minute conversation.
It’s charming. It’s wholesome.
It’s everything a town like ours could hope for.
Except for one thing.
That dark, distorted corner of the festivities where hope goes to scream into a cheap mic and feedback echoes for miles. Yes, I’m talking about…
🎤
The Battle of the Bands.
An event that promises music and delivers trauma. Every. Single. Year. And every single year the dude in a wheelchair can’t play the double bass because they forgot to build a side walk to the band stand.
🎸Let’s Meet the Lineup
1. The Classic Rock Revivalists (With Boundary Issues)
Fronted by a man named Rick or Chuck or Mick, wearing a shirt open too far and pants too tight. He’s living out his 1983 garage band fantasy — still convinced he almost made it. The rest of the band? A rotating cast of young musicians he’s “mentoring,” which is code for “playing Van Halen covers with teens who were born after Napster died.”
You know the type. He opens every set with “You guys ready to ROCK?!”
And then proceeds to absolutely murder Sweet Child O’ Mine.
Like, legally.
2. The Indie Girl Who Hurts Beautifully
Her name is probably Rain. Or Indigo. Or something that sounds like a candle scent. She has the voice of an angel and the stage presence of a TED Talk on trauma. Between songs, we get anecdotes like:
“This next song is about the time my hamster died and I realized no one really stays forever.”
Then she plays a hauntingly beautiful ballad that makes you question your own childhood. And then she tells us her ex is in the audience. And then she points at him.
And then she cries.
And then we cry.
3. The School of Rock Kids
These kids rip. Like, actually talented. But they’re also in open competition with each other because some urban legend says there’s an A&R guy from SubPop in the audience. (Spoiler: There isn’t. That’s a dad in cargo shorts.)
Every guitar solo is played like it’s the final round of Mortal Kombat.
Drummers are flinging sticks.
Bassists are doing jumps they definitely didn’t rehearse.
And the lead singer has a wireless mic and the ego of a Vegas magician.
It’s both exhilarating and deeply exhausting. Like watching caffeinated eagles fight over a Fender.
4. The Youth Group Praise Rockers
This group appears to be a real band until song two. That’s when the trap is sprung.
“We wanna talk to you guys about a different kind of rock… the rock of our salvation.”
Next thing you know, you’re clapping along to a three-minute sermon backed by acoustic chords. They try to baptize a fog machine. You’re not sure if the keyboardist is weeping or just sweaty. Either way, you now owe Jesus $10 on Venmo.
5. The Homeschooled Osmonds
Dressed like they’re on the cover of a 2007 Sears catalog, the family band rolls up with matching vests and alarming confidence. There’s the fiddle prodigy. The beatboxing cousin. And a dad who doesn’t blink.
They perform an original called “Stay Away from TikTok (It’s a Sin)” and then close with a kazoo-led rendition of Carry On Wayward Son.
They are met with thunderous applause from exactly three aunts and a pastor.
🏆 But Wait — The Scoring System!
You thought it would be judged by musicality? Performance? Originality?
Absolutely not.
The battle is determined by a panel of local high school factions:
Three jocks in sleeveless shirts who judge on “vibes,”
Two goths who hate everything except the one ska band that played ironically,
And a woman named Carol who thought she was at a chili cook-off.
It’s like watching The Voice hosted by your worst cafeteria memories.
The crowd boos when their favorite doesn’t win. A baby cries. Someone throws a churro.
🚨 The Grand Finale: Carnage at the Crosswalk
As you try to leave, emotionally battered and musically bruised, you step into the crosswalk. You feel the hope of escape.
But this is CityFest, baby.
Some local real estate agent on their phone plows through the crosswalk in a Ford Escape. Seven people go down. It’s unclear if they’re dead or just stunned by the finale of Freebird.
A commemorative balloon floats into the sky.
Rick the rock mentor yells, “WE LOVE YOU!”
Rain cries into her loop pedal.
A goth starts CPR.
✨ In Conclusion…
The Battle of the Bands is a spiritual test disguised as a musical event.
You will lose songs you love.
You will gain trauma from songs you didn’t even know existed.
You will witness both the rise and fall of mediocre dreams in one humid afternoon.
But hey — the kettle corn’s pretty good.
See you next year.