Monday, July 14, 2008

Hey Bay B 4/1/08

"Don't you remember you told me you loved me, baby? You said you'd be coming back this way again, baby. Baby, baby, baby, baby, oh baby, I love you. I really do." Superstar - The Carpenters

"Babe, it's time we give something new a try. Oh, alone we may fight so just let us be free, tonight. Through the storms and the light baby you stood by my side and life is wine." No I in Threesome - Interpol

I have never in my life called another human "baby" with a straight face.

If someone seriously referred to me as such, an ambulance would have to be summoned as I would probably be locked into fetal position and stuck in a permanent fit of laughter to the brink of dehydration.

I've been called several versions of "babe" and that doesn't faze me at all, but "baby", I don't know, it feels about as natural as having gargoyle feet might be (imagine the socks for such a thing and sandals would be OVER).

It's not so much that it smacks of pedophilia as it just sounds all gold jewelry and moustaches to me. The whiter you are, the worse it is. I think if you're Goth and say it, you get ex-communicated or something, I've heard.

In the context of song, it totally works, but it's never been a tool that I've opted to use. Some obviously pull it off better than others as it's textbook in most soul type of songs, but a rarity in "Modern Rock". At least by my count.

Despite it's use of "baby", I LOVE "No I in Threesome" by Interpol. It's been in heavy rotation on my IPOD for over 6 months and I never tire of it, EVER! I could give a shit about the lyrics on this one (I'm not a threesome kind of girl and don't aspire to be), but the melody, the music, the arrangement - all FLAWLESS right down to the rasp in his voice that you know is revealing the 57th punch in of the day. He could say "baby" throughout the entire song and I would still be floored by it.

Obviously, it's not always about the words, it can't be. The Brandenburg Concertos would never stand for it and neither would I.

"My first name ain't baby, it's Janet. Miss Jackson if you're nasty." Nasty - Janet Jackson

I'm Not Human, I'm Just Stuck in One 3/30/08

Are perfect strangers only perfect because we don’t know them yet?

Isn’t it great when perfect strangers say perfect things? A rarity, I know. It’s almost sad too.

Am I the only one that thinks the actor Owen Wilson is the blonde doppelganger of Trent Reznor (Nine Inch Nails)?

Does anyone else with lengthy thumb nails have trouble texting? Thumb nails double as guitar picks and under the chin pet scratchers, they are of value.

Why aren’t dental floss containers recyclable? I had an eco fit and tried to use "Tom’s of Maine" floss since it has the proper stamp on it but damn man, it practically leaves behind the makings for a hammock in your mouth(it shreds btwn your teeth). I’m an obsessive flosser, I will even floss after a cup of tea so I feel a smidge guilty about using enviro-pissy floss.

Too bad there is no such thing as "mental floss", oh wait, that’s vodka.

Currently listening :
Porcupine By Echo & the Bunnymen

Callously Call Us Callused 3/28/08

Usage Note: Do not confuse the adjective callous, as in Years of dealing with criminals had left her callous, with the noun callus, as in I have a callus on my thumb. Also, do not confuse the verb callous, which means "to make or become callous," with the verb callus "to form or develop hardened tissue." -

Last evening I had quite a few conversations with several different people. We discussed a variety of things, MUSIC (bien sur), heartache (I heard three tales of woe and told my own), synchronicity (man, I had a ton of coincidences happen later in the night, WEIRD), and RISK, which sort of factors into all of the above mentioned subjects.

RISK is defined as "exposure to the chance of injury or loss; a hazard or dangerous chance", which is pretty damn negative if you ask me. Aren’t you also exposing yourself to the possibility of personal gain, healing, and happiness as well? Is there a different word for that angle of RISK? My fogged up brain can’t think of one at the moment, so pardon me if one is available and I overlooked it.

There is an underlying defeatism that we’re taught from day one and it’s been sold to us under the guise of protection, but in the end it’s our worst enemy. It can be so limiting that we even feel the need to speak of RISK in hesitant terms, mainly to not look the fool or "jinx" things, if you will.

It’s strange how people often grip so hard to what they believe are statistical outcomes.

When you choose music as a career path, you are met with many a furrowed brow and no matter how talented you are, you will always be asked what "plan b" is by some buzz killer. If they don’t know anyone that makes a living that way, it’s just out of their scope of thinking. These people truly suck. They itch when they hear phrases like "reckless abandon" and they scowl from the inside out at the mere hint of passion over reason. They have lifetime subscriptions to complacency and are fixated on tea bagging oppression. Guarantees are absent in any profession, one car accident can affirm that.

There are no guarantees in love either. My one friend is clearly smitten with someone, but it’s a long distance thing and it seems like there is this careful propriety of how you even can speak about it, which I don’t get. So what if it’s risky? 95% of the people I know/knew that got involved in long distance relationships are married and happily so, and I really can’t fathom divorce ever factoring into their futures. 95% of the people I know/knew that got together under what is deemed "normal" circumstances are earnestly awaiting divorce papers or are vigorously anticipating the death of their significant other.

I didn’t bring my version of statistics to the table, but I told him to make a fist. Then I told him to open his hand. You can get scarred on either sides of your hands but the inside of an open hand is fleshier, more prepared for injury, and can even build up calluses for protection.

Anyone who plays a stringed instrument remembers the razor-like pain you experience when new strings first meet soft, virginal fingers. The ears’ demands must be met so the hands must persevere. Eventually, calluses form on your fingertips and there is a sweet numbness that is brokered between you and the strings as long as you remain committed to the pressing.

Calluses won’t form on the outside of your hand, though, so if you are more of the closed fist kind of person, you’re fucked(unless you wear boxing gloves the rest of your life). Fists are really only necessary in two instances: fighting and bizarre sexual acts that I can’t get my mind around. Try picking up something with your fist, it’s not very practical is it?

Open hands invite experience despite the consequences, and maybe those unclenched fingers can tickle RISK a little, whether it’s in dealings of the amorous or in doing what is meaningful to you.

"I Wanna Hold Your Hand" was the first song I ever heard, in my recollection. Nobody writes songs about holding fists.

Currently listening : ABBA - Gold: Greatest Hits By ABBA Release date: 21 September, 1993

Under the Coverz 2/22/08

I’m extremely picky about cover songs, it’s music snobbery protocol that all musicians follow, I imagine. Nothing brings out the arms-folded-across-the-chest stance more than when an original band whips out a cover tune.

Whether it’s a tribute to your influences or a way to show off your "chops", as it were, the choice of cover is very revealing. When playing out, I always made sure the covers were of something unexpected like The Sex Pistols’ "Pretty Vacant", or "Do It Clean" by Echo and the Bunnymen which is older and somewhat obscure to most people. Then, of course, you have to occasionally go with relevance by doing U2’s lesser known classic "Running To Stand Still" after a heroin addict steals a PA system from your practice space (it happens).

One of the best live covers I ever witnessed was Supergrass doing "Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In)". Phenomenal.

Most live cover blunders are forgivable, but when one RECORDS a cover, oh I shiver just thinking of what can only be described as audio STAINS that some bands have offered up under the guise of "modernizing" a song.

Recorded covers of The Beatles’ songs should not be allowed without my approval. You can’t ever do The Beatles better than they did, EVER! It’s sort of sacrilege to let your tiny pea brain consider that you can even attempt such an endeavor. I’ve heard some recordings that don’t entirely piss me off (Candyflip’s dance version of "Strawberry Fields Forever" comes to mind), but I stand by the premise that outside of the former band members themselves, only George Martin can update their work via the studio.

If I ever hear of anyone redoing "Hung Up on a Dream" by The Zombies, or the Stones’ "Child of the Moon", I will most certainly be personally overseeing their sadistic execution - leave PERFECTION alone!

I threw up a little in my mouth when I heard Sia’s version of Radiohead’s "Paranoid Android", not only did it feel "too soon", but it also emanated the desire to slap that Anna Nicole-like vibrato right out of her quivering throat. Who allowed this? If only there was legal recourse one could pursue when their eardrums are violated thus.

Ok, so yeah, a cover can make people really hate ya, but it can also make someone respect you a little too.
This was the case with Pearl Jam, whom I’ve never been a fan of but I stumbled across their live version of "Throw Your Arms Around Me" by the Hunters and Collectors. It’s an old song that I really, really dig, so PJ gets semi-props for that one.

Covers of The Velvet Underground’s stuff have most always been alright with me, especially Nirvana’s rendition of "Here She Comes Now". I completely lose my shit every time he hits that higher octave bit. The build up...I wish I knew some compliments in Italian as I feel that language would properly exude more passion in describing it.

Obviously, Hendrix did Dylan just fine. Radiohead can do whatever they want and I’ll probably lick it up, geeze… there are so many great ones, I couldn’t possibly get to them all here. I’ve put a few on my profile play list, Ben Gibbard’s version of "They Don’t Know" is awesome. He must’ve been spying on me because I play it that same way, fucker! Stephen Malkmus (of Pavement fame) also did an ok version of my favorite Dylan song "Ballad of a Thin Man", it’s on there too.

The cover you do is a layer you put on a work that was considered finished by somebody else at some point, so don’t leech, it’s much more admirable to add something. Take a sad song and make it better. =)

Currently listening :
VU By The Velvet Underground Release date: 25 October, 1990

Needle and the Damage Done 3/19/08

Nope, it’s not about the infamous Neil Young song.

I had some blood taken a couple of weeks ago and I went in for the results this afternoon.

I hate needles, I hate blood, and I especially HATE pain of any kind. I know some people get off on pain, but I definitely don’t ride that bus. Tickle? Yes. Slap? Hell no! I’ll take some tenderness with a drop of gentility, thank you very much.

OK, the phlebotomist who had previously removed my life flow was awesome. Mosquitoes are more invasive, so kudos to her! Unfortunately, the results revealed several vitamin deficiencies and I had to get an IV of what is called a "Meyer’s Cocktail". Cocktail? Yes. IV? Oooooh nooooo.

I was a little more than perplexed, as the nurse who was going to stick me had an undecipherable, deep southern accent and she could not stop hacking. One false cough during her quest for a vein could land me the lead story on tonight’s local news - "Distraught IV victim beheads pregnant nurse with her IPOD but SAVED THE BABY! See how she did it at 11!"

I would have a better chance at discovering true love at a KKK rally than this woman did at finding a vein. I didn’t cry but my top lip disappeared as I started to tell her, through my oh so clenched teeth, that I needed the smallest needle they have. SIZE DOES MATTER in this case. She assured me this was the smallest and proceeded to stab at me with the finesse of a three year old making mud pies.

"Weelllll," she drawled, "lets try the hand." OMFG I’m trapped in "Hellraiser Part DUH: The Hick’s Revenge"!!! YOUCH!!! It was in - we thought.

I sat back and got lost in Damian Kulash’s voice until something felt weird.

"Hey, should my hand be all cold and sting-y and making me feel the need to chop it off?" I yelled.

A vehement wall of "No’s" shot back as some other nurses rushed over to stop the beginning of what looked like a very unhappy hand about to give birth. The needle wasn’t in right and was shooting fluids under my skin and they had nowhere to go so they just sat around stinging and swelling until further notice.

New nurse said she couldn’t understand why OLD nurse didn’t use the smaller needle. I then requested a pen so I could begin my suicide note.

She started over on the other arm, THIS time with a children’s needle (insert every expletive known here).

It was in and she ordered me not to move, as if THAT’S what happened. I didn’t move, as hard as that is when one is listening to "Oxford Comma", instead, I mentally plotted to relocate to Austria. It just seemed like the thing to do.
The physical pain was over, finally, and I would take it any day over the mental pain you get with heartache and loss. Luckily, I’m not dealing with anything like that right now and I’ll try to remember that next week when I have to go back for the next one. UGH!

Currently listening :
Oh No By OK Go Release date: 30 August, 2005

Paper Plane Evolution 3/13/08

In my last entry I briefly touched on how what a song means to you can evolve depending on the circumstances you hear it in.

For instance, the song "Paper Planes" by M.I.A., which I heard out dancing and my first thought was "Oh great another song about some gold digging whorebag". I didn’t yet realize the lyrics were about hustling in general, not just another deadbeat chick playing some fool for his money, as if that makes a huge difference.

The next time I heard it, I was dancing with Dan the man and yapping about how it clearly ripped off The Clash’s "Straight To Hell" and anyone who knows me knows I’m a little rabid about The Clash. The song was growing on me a little, I’ll admit, and for some reason I pictured Mick Jones and the late Joe Strummer being ok with it’s, shall we say, "usage" of their back catalog.

Being blitzed the next time I heard it made it more fun, plus I was dancing with blonde Robert (I met him thru Mark, who I thought was great but I get the impression he would rather drink a gallon of West Virginian trucker’s pee than be in my company). Blonde Robert is fun and friendly, it’s no shock that whenever I see him, some young chippies are all over him.

I finally downloaded the damn song and was playing it in the car when Candy, her husband Py, and I were on our way out. I’m not all into UFO’s but I swear we saw something ablaze in the sky and it wasn’t a shooting star. I have no clue what it was but it fell to the ground slowly, looking sort of like a detached wing of a plane that was on fire and reluctantly descending to earth only because it had nothing better to do. I checked the news, but nothing.

The last time I danced to the song was with this guy, whom I’ve referred to as "Perfection", and it turns out he has the IQ of a staple gun. =(

I know exposure is more likely the reason most people can even stand half the songs that are out there and this particular song doesn’t warrant any special attention as it’s shelf life is definitely limited. It has no brain licking lyrics or brilliant guitar work, just a good beat and enough character to lay some memories on. It fills in for when the great songs are taking a break as it’s hard work being a classic. They need some occasional time off, I suppose.

The soundtracks of our lives can’t always be meaningful, but it’s interesting to see where a piece has taken you, good or bad.

Currently listening :
Clash on Broadway By The Clash Release date: 08 February, 2000

Keep Your Eyes Ahead 3/12/08

I was in the other room last night when I first heard "Keep Your Eyes Ahead" by Helio Sequence, and from that distance I mistakenly thought it was Ian Brown, who is the former lead singer of the much cherished (at least by me), but now defunct, Stone Roses.

I dashed to the source, got informed, and was a bit surprised as I had previously thought HS were sort of a fly by night computerized band. They definitely made a better second "first impression" on me and I really dig that.

I love it when I’m wrong about something in a good way, you know where you think something sucks but it’s better than you thought? As opposed to thinking something is better than it actually was, which usually applies more to people stuff than music. A song is rarely misrepresenting itself now is it?

A song is a song is a song, you get to decide what it is for you, and hopefully the meaning will remain incorrupt or get even better with every occasion you attach it to.

I’ve had songs ruined for me though, as one should never play the good stuff for someone you are into until you are SURE (as much as one can be). I soured a good batch of songs that way, but I’m optimistic that I’ll get them back somehow, someday.

I was out last night and the DJ played "Are You Gonna Be There?" by the Chocolate Watchband (one of the greatest band names EVER) and aside from one other person I used to know, I’ve never met anyone that even heard of ’em let alone played ’em out in public (at my goading of course), so that was cool.

I was listening to a great 60’s tune whilst getting my highest score ever on a great 80’s video game (GALAGA). Puts a nice new spin on the song, I’d say.

Sometimes I’m pretty easy to please =)

Currently listening :
Keep Your Eyes Ahead By The Helio Sequence Release date: 29 January, 2008

Amino Ass-Head 2/2/08

I live on the Gulf Coast of Florida where we have two seasons: HOT and not-so-hot. The former has been aptly noted as "hotter than two rats fuckin' in a wool sock" and upon first hearing this colloquial expression, I laughed for about 5 days straight. Despite the fact that I've lived in Detroit, New York City, and Washington D.C., I've yet to see two rats knocking boots in any capacity.

Once HOT kicks in, you can't forget to put "car sunglasses" on over your dash especially if you have a black interior. I, of course, learned that fact the hard way as I drive a manual (yep I'm cool like that). I don't believe in the existence of any kind of devil, but grabbing a sun scorched gearshift would, I imagine, be akin to manhandling Satan's junk. Youch! Live and learn.

When the transition of our two seasons occurs, allergens are flying high and I get all sneezy, real charming I know. I tried the otc allergy meds but I'm super sensitive to any kind of medicine, even the children's dosage. It's like opposite world for me with that shit, "non-drowsy" instantly drops me but the stuff that usually knocks people out has me bouncing off the walls and makes my heart a bit wonky so I often explore the alternative medicines/vitamins.

L-Arginine really alleviates my allergy symptoms, it helps a myriad of things; stroke, heart stuff, circulation, AND sexual dysfunction. Yeah man, if you can't jump your pump, this is sort of the Viagra au naturelle and it works on chicks too!

I was unaware of this fact when I first took it 'til I found myself all mouth agape at the Publix bag boy when he asked if I needed help taking my ONE bag of groceries to my car. I was seeing with the "drunk's-eye" view you get when feeling overly friendly on cocktails, but I was completely sober. I'm not a mouth breather so I knew something was amiss. I reeled my jaw in off the floor and bolted home to read up on this amino acid further. I've since pulled back on the dosage but do find myself thinking "How you doin?" more often than I used to.

Probably what it's usually like to be a guy ay?

Currently listening :
An End Has a Start By Editors Release date: 17 July, 2007

80 MPH Here Instead of There 2/8/08

I saw Batman and Catwoman making out an hour ago while Corey Hart yelled at me all the way from 1985.

Perfection bumped into me and I never saw it coming. It kept it's distance because I'm highly allergic but if prompted, I could sketch every detail on even the most undeserving canvas.

My eyes are still fighting with my brain on a daily basis and nobody wins. A great haircut centered atop the perfect sentence could make an attempt at brokering peace, if I believed such a thing existed.

Someone pinched my drink that contained any hopes of such a belief. The same elixir that hijacks my inhibitions also hoists an inpenetrable wall at a later date, yet to be determined.

Everyone else seemed to be so ecstactic but all I could think of was that MIA was ripping off The Clash and Linkin Park apparently have assumed that U2 never wrote "With or Without You".

This whole Goldilocks thing isn't working out for me in a disco setting. The food's the same but from different galaxies and I always feel like I arrived too early or too late.

Invisible or so unique that no one can see it? OR so common that nobody cares?

Currently listening : We Are Pilots By Shiny Toy Guns Release date: 17 October, 2006

Infantus Scream-A-Saurus 2/5/08

Why is it that everytime I go into a store there is an inconsolable screaming child?

Everyone around me was like "Geeze what's with that kid?" with slight concern eminating from their curiousity, whereas my immediate thought was "I've got condoms somewhere right? Oooh are those too old by now?"

The Infantus Scream-A-Saurus seemed to be powerlocked within my earshot no matter where I went in the store.
Mind you, I was already irritable because I couldn't find any chocolate that didn't contain milk and I was mentally sending out a big "FUCK U" to potato chip manufacturers for putting wheat in "Salt N Vinegar" chips. WHY???? WHYYYYYYY???? 2 more months of this no dairy, no grain/gluten thing may be the end of me yet!

All I needed at this point was some gum snapping bitch behind me in line at the register yapping at full volume on her phone about stuff that'd make anyone's ears eject copious amounts of spurt-quality blood.....

SHE arrived like it was part of some sick plan. The Yowling Gum Snap-A-Saurus. Where was Scot Blakely when I needed him most?

10 deep breaths subjugated the urge to stab her and luckily my cashier zipped me through free of complications that might involve "management".

One should never shop when they're hungry.

Currently listening :
London Calling By The Clash Release date: 25 January, 2000

Fake Plast Politics 1/29/08

I used to care about politics but now ambivalence has saturated my views to the point that I'd rather witness my own autopsy than even think about the presidential race this year.

Once in a while I call up my old aunt on my dad's side, which is Ojibwe, as we have two governments to yak about (American and American Indian). Our tribal shit is just as corrupt as the regular American government only on a smaller scale.

Anyways, I once asked her "Can you imagine actually really liking our president? Can you imagine ever having someone in office that you really back and believe in and you can't wait to hear them speak? Can you imagine trusting and respecting the elected officials in any capacity?" She was laughing so hard that she couldn't even gasp the air needed to negate the query posed to her.

Mistrust in those who sit in or run for office is just expected now. We can't imagine it any other way, nor do we even bother to try it seems.

I can't say I look at any of the candidates and feel anything. I'm an independent voter but I registered as a Democrat when I moved to Florida so that I could have my say in who facilitates the next train wreck '08.

Whoever takes the nod for the Dems is going to lose to either Mit "Magic Underpants" Romney, McCain (who is old and will die in office if elected), or Rudy "911" G. As a former New Yorker I can honestly say that before 911, everyone HATED Rudy that lived there. Any putz in office would've done what he did in 2001 so if people vote based on the fact that his bad comb-over just happened to be at the right place at the right time, eh I can't even get my hackles up enough to finish that sentence.

Today when I go to the precinct to play virtual voting (by the way my tribe purchased electronic voting machines in '03 and within two days found 10 different ways to hack into them. We went straight back to paper before you could say "Ohio"), I guess it's down to 3 candidates.

I feel nothing for Clinton. As a female, part of me wants to go there for a lark but alas I can't bring it for her. Edwards should've been the candidate last time, but now his star is too dim to be taken seriously and he has the charisma of a run-on sentence.


It would be great PR for the U.S. if he's elected because of his name alone, but because of his name, he can't possibly get elected - voters are that superficial and paranoid of anything remotely close to sounding like "Osama" as you well know.

I respect the guy and when he speaks, my skin doesn't crawl. Experience? Fuck it! That monkey in office now is about as capable as Kid Rock (Sorry Kid) so that isn't an issue in my line of thinking. Obama's too idealistic to get anything done, more than likely, but I'm idealistic too.

Ron Paul should run as an independent, but that will still ensure the Republicans get the catbird seat again so it's frivolous to even muse over.

At this point we are all going through the motions without any real hopes or expectations so it's easy to see why people don't even bother with this vapid process to begin with.

Currently listening :
Goo By Sonic Youth Release date: 15 June, 1990

Jet Lag Gemini 1/14/08

There was less than nothing to do tonight soooooo click click click...Creative Loafing. I swear I heard a tumbleweed go by when the page came up.

Live music please, no cover bands....anyone????

Sundays are just not the day for music in this area being that most of the people below the Mason Dixon line are more prone to being plopped in front of what they refer to as "The Game"...unless of course there was some sort of Monster Truck Rally or Nascar event going on.

This could not thwart my plans, there had to be people that don't watch "The Game" right? (Nothing against the humans that do, just not my thing).

I saw that three bands were playing at the Orpheum in Ybor City (that's where all the clubs are in Tampa for those of you not familiar with the area): Jetlag Gemini, Lady Radiator, and Red Light Green Light respectively.

Never heard of 'em, so on to Myspace for a quick sample.

The bands seemed allright. They all had lots of hair to flail around onstage so if they sucked live, at least there would be that. All ages show - doors at 7? Nahhhh really? Well we (me and my friend Angel) didn't arrive til 9 and yikes, they were actually serious about the 7 o'clocky clock thingy.

We caught the last song from Red Light Green Light, a band from Jersey.

They sort of came across like some young Rabbis aspiring to be Linkin Park, some serious beardage going on there but great energy and very, very tight.

I can't imagine it was easy to be that energetic when the crowd consisted of 6 people plus members of the other bands playing.

Frankly, I was shocked there weren't more people (at least 7 geeze). These bands are on indie labels, and yeah I had never heard of 'em but shit does being signed mean anything anymore?

At least they were loud enough to drown out the sound of yet another tumbleweed bumping through. That's always a plus.

Jet Lag Gemini was next and unbeknownst to us, last. Gemini is my opposite sign, but I will forgive them - haha my friend Tom is a Gemini so some of them don't suck - really, it's true.

JLG remind me a bit of this band Prime Stk from Sweden that I like. Sort of this poppy sound with obvious "hard rock" subtleties. The guitarist clearly has his eye on becoming the next "Slash", but lucky for him he looks a thosand times better.

JLG are in their early 20s and they look it, but play like pros, I swear the guitarist threw his Les Paul in the air and it was still playing a riff on it's own, like he was willing it to or something. I won't lie and say this band is typical of what I buy, but it was great to see a band with a guitarist that can really fuckin' play.

Remember when "guitar hero" actually meant someone that could play a real guitar so intensely that your teeth were dancing in your mouth against their will? Well someone clued this kid in on that, he knows where the nuances go. He's a little too high end (like Slash) for my preference (John Squire and of course JIMI HENDRIX), nonetheless, he rocked the house and the meager few in it.

They don't look like a Jersey band, in fact I think 2 of em are from the Czech Republic and the singer is from Russia, but no accents Slavic or otherwise. The drummer is all American Italian and just the sweetest guy totally working that mini fro of his.

They were spot on and full of infectious vigor. Even if you hated them, you'd like them if that makes any sense. The sound man was a little lost but they persevered through 6, yes I kid you not, 6 songs. Dang, I remember getting pissed on if we didn't play more than 10 songs and these guys thought that was all she wrote, shoulder shrug included.

At their "merch" table were tip jars. Wow times have changed. I didn't see one for JLG but the bass player pointed to his pocket so I went the way of those that frequent Mons Venus (scary strip club in Tampa that has been there since before women could vote is my guess) and stuffed the dollar near where his future children may spring forth someday. In return I was given a black rubbery thingy that looks like some much needed item that fell off my car but is, in fact, a bracelet with the band's name on it. I'll keep it in my celica- just in case.

The oh so groovy bass player introduced us to the drummer and he told me they were from Mahwah, New Jersey. We mostly just yakked about other drummers. He mentioned Mitch Mitchell, which just does my heart proud, and it was no surprise as his kit was set up in a similar fashion, as was his hair, god love him! (Oh wait, agnostics can't say that can they?)

All in all I really liked the band live, the singer is great and they do some cheesey Jersey stuff that will crack any seasoned musician up, but you will laugh with respect.

As we dragged our feet towards the exit (it was only 10:15 and apparently all ages shows have to be done by 11pm because of some curfew), the guy at the door mournfully asked how we had heard about the show in a manner befitting a funeral director.

I shoved all of my 94 pounds at the door and chuckled "Does it really matter man?"

The door clanged behind us and a gust of wind presented us with the last tumbleweed, oh wait no it was some drunk chick who wanted to know if we could spare some change.

Ahhhhh Tampa.......