by Casey Rea
As the late Conway Twitty once sang, "Hello, darlin'. Nice to see ya. It's been a long time..."
Married life is going great, but we still haven't quite figured out what happens next. Besides getting good and gone, that is.
Went to see Cccome?, Activists/Dictators The Cripples and Tell No One (etc., etc.) at Burlington Factory Studios last Saturday. It was pretty fun — we got to relive our nuptial glory with our man Jebson. Some fella gave me the "Paulie G.," which is what we call the dismissive click-and-trigger pull of one's thumb and forefinger. You know, like a gun goes boom? Not sure what he meant by it. Say, duder, if you're reading this... What's up?
Hipster kids keep getting younger, and I keep getting older. Skip a few boho shows and the next thing you know the faces have changed. Well, some of 'em, anyway.
Spent today arguing about the validity of Steely Dan with some of my compatriots on the Dusted listserve. The thread was originally about whether or not Wilco equals dad-rock, but it quickly turned into a discussion about the musical worth of Messrs. Becker & Fagen. I think you know my position on such matters.
I also listened to this James Kochalka podcast today. Some truly funny stuff in there.
But wait, there's more: I taped another segment of my ongoing BS session with DJ Charlie of The Point FM. Tune in tomorrow morning at around 8:20 a.m. to hear me make fun of John Mayer for being a cheese-ass, then praise his guitar playing in the same short sentence.
Our pals in Carrigan — including the soon-to-be-self-exiled Daryl Rabidoux — are playing at Club Metronome on Wednesday, April 11 with The Static Age and Drive the Hour. Carrigan recently got a nice capsule review on AbsolutePunk.net. Not that they're punk or anything
I'll be talking with our resident experimental music superhero Greg Davis on Wednesday for what's looking like the cover story for the next issue of Signal to Noise. Shit... that means I have to figure out stuff to ask him... Any suggestions?
OK — class dismissed.