In last week's Houston Music Fight Club, we pitted six of Houston's brightest-shining musical diamonds against one another in a sort of cruel Internet death match. The only blood drawn was the dark crimson blood of laughter that...yeah, we need to work on our metaphors. Anyhow, we came up with three more semi-local celebrity cage matches. We hope that this actually catches on in real life, so that one day it can be sold to pay-per-view for the rest of the world to gawk at. Finally we will have an excuse to shave our arms and use those roofies we scored the other night. Bryan Jackson Vs. Jacob Calle
Anyone paying attention to these two will know their relationship has been volatile. A few months back, Jackson, the Bon Scott-esque lead singer of Black Congress came under scene fire for allegedly "borrowing" some vinyl from local auteur Jacob Calle. A fight was scheduled to be held at the Graustark Bridge over Highway 59 at 4 a.m. one night, but obviously nothing materialized. In a real fight though, who would win? Jackson was recently interviewed for Free Press Houston, where he described a litany of extracurricular activities that would make R. Kelly blush and has forever tainted the movie The Color of Money for us. But pooping in a pool table and penchant for "face meat" doesn't make you Chuck Liddell. Calle, on the other hand, is only vaguely threatening. His life exploits, which Rocks Off can attest to from growing up with him in Pearland, are anything but sane. But he's not a fighter by any means, more of an affable prankster along the lines of a French aristocratic court jester. Winner: Definitely Bryan Jackson. As a live performer fronting Black Congress, he's like a drunken bulldozer. We would hope after the fight that the two men would heal their wounds and start a cult somewhere together where they could teach their followers to burn things down and jump over said burning things on bicycles. That's something we could get behind for sure. Beau Beasley Vs. Justin Nava
When it comes to bearded guys with thinning hairlines, we have an extremely soft temperament. We are people just like our hirsute brothers and sisters, just wishing to fly on wings of Pantene-scented locks like the rest of the world. But alas, wish in one hand and shit in the corner pocket of a pool table and see which one gets filled first. Other than being short-haired, bearded, archetypal bears, Beasley and Nava have almost nothing in common musically. Beasley is in like 17 bands, at least one of which was probably started when we began typing this blog, and whose debut seven-inch will be out of print by the time you finish this sentence. Nava is the lead singer of The Last Place You Look, a hard-edged modern rock band that never heard a hook it didn't like. He also makes coffee for some of the biggest rockers to hit town while working at the Starbucks in Midtown. He made lattes for Green Day a few weeks back when they hit town. Size-wise, they match up almost perfectly. They both look like they work out, so it would be bloody as hell, one of those Rocky-style jobs where faces get all distorted. If we had it in the parking lot near Ripcord, we could charge admission. DIY all the way, suckas. Winner: Beasley, but only because we could grab hold of Nava's beard. That's like the Achilles Heel for all bald guys because it's the only thing we have draw attention away from our chrome domes. That coupled with how scary and alluringly menacing leather can be, Beasley wins the day. B L A C K I E vs. Bun B
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Old-school Houston rap against new-school Houston grime, what could go wrong? Pitting the former Bernard Freeman up against the former Michael LaCour could quite literally split H-Town in half comic-book style, like the first time Superman "died" when he fought that dude with that douchebag Doomsday. First off, you can't fuck with UGK. What Bun B did with the departed Pimp C is still unmatched. Respect will forever be given. Go back to all of those records and find a flaw, we dare you. What B L A CK I E has done with a drum machine and some samplers and an army of cabs is ridiculously catchy, like a one-man punk band. Both dudes hail from chemical cities, with Bun B out of Port Arthur and B L A C K I E constantly repping the refinery skies of La Porte. Would this even be a fair fight? Bun is a big fella, and B L A C K I E is wiry and quick. He even jumped into his own pit during Summer Fest a few weeks back. But Bun could probably look at someone sideways and their faces would melt like that dude in Raiders of The Lost Ark, ya know? Winner: Bun B by a mile, but the rewards that us the listener would reap after the battle would be epic. No doubt they would make up and record an album with Cop Warmth backing them both. An album so amazing that people would move to town just to say they lived in the same area code where it was recorded.