We made five stops last night and they all had one thing in common: they were packed to the gills. I found this amazing, the sight of the tiniest of dive bars like the Painted Lady and Whiskey in a Jar and Kelly’s just totally banging. And people everywhere seemed really, really happy. I...
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How can I put this? In Detroit there is Deastro and there is everybody else. Randy Chabot has gone to the next level. I realized this last night. I’m not talking about quality but about commitment. About courage, really. Because let’s be honest, the rest of us are just hiding — underneath layers of...
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I had trouble making sense of things last night. The evening just didn’t want to stay linear. Maybe that’s what happens when you sandwich your brain between the beers and boom of a Blowout music fest. Or maybe the Majestic complex really has magic in it. I don’t understand, and I suppose I just...
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(Had to do this in two parts cause the blog editor is being naughty.) Damon, on the other hand, took it slower, didn’t do anything mainstream for a while. He made All the Pretty Horses, Rounders, The Talented Mr. Ripley. Stuff like that. Eventually he stumbled into the Bourne franchise, but that was out...
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Before I begin, can I just ask: when did rock get so punctual? I have yet, in three days of Blowing it Out, to not walk in a band I came to see mid-set. Punctuality is just not part of the time-honored code I live by. When I roll I don’t just roll DEEP,...
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I vote yes. Yes to Millions of Brazillions and the furtherance of sexy sludgy rock’n'roll as a national pastime. I vote NO to candidates A, B and C and flaccid political theater in general. But yes, yes to any band that updates its love of Dinosaur Jr., Jesus Lizard and Urge Overkill by damaging...
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