By Michael E. Miller
By Ryan Yousefi
By Kyle Munzenrieder
By Sabrina Rodriguez
By Michael E. Miller
By Carlos Suarez De Jesus
By Luther Campbell
By Kyle Munzenrieder
The media "stars" are the worst, mostly because I don't get to be one. My admirable colleague, Todd Anthony, however, gets a song written about him, performed live at Washington Square recently by its authors, Paul Roub and the one-named Zac. "Todd Anthony's Here Tonight" references a bunch of the man's articles in a local weekly, summarizes life at the Square, and features this chorus: "He's all right/He'll even spell your name in the paper right" along with lyrics such as, "If nobody shows tonight/A thousand people will read it in the rag tonight," and, "It ain't a whole lotta glam for a newspaper man." Zac says the song began as a joke, a take on name songs, but after he played it for Roub, the latter thought it would work as a full song. Roub's currently writing a middle part to add to it, and Sony will surely buy it and release it nationally. It's moving stuff, folks, set to a groovy acoustic melody. "All the lyrics choke me up," adds Zac.
The rally's on for heart-attack victim, medical debtor, and long-time country star Karl Victor. This Sunday at Sonny's Stardust Lounge in Fort Lauderdale, Freddie King, Josh Noland and Vision, the Orange Country Band, Johnny Parks with the Nashville Expedition, Sonny Scott with the Stardust Band, and others will perform, big-ticket prizes will be raffled and auctioned, a pig will be roasted, and so forth. Proceeds will help pay Victor's bills. An album of Victor tracks, Precious Memories, will be released soon by Empire Records. For more info, call 800-452-3262.
Do what I tell you becos I half a newspaper column: They call it Gothic Grunge, but I won't. Killing Season (Washington Square tonight, Wednesday) sounds mighty promising, whatever you call it, on their new one-song tape ("Dollhouse," inspired by one of singer Dave Diaz's paintings), and you'll be reading more about this band real soon. For now, check 'em out. Big Love brings their big show to Washington Square, along with Egypt, this Friday. Forget the Name might hate me, but I gotta love them, and I command that you go check 'em out acoustic next Tuesday at Stephen Talkhouse. And a week from today, next Wednesday, Rooster Head (ZenCon Pain lives) unveils an exciting new stage show (think visual effects) at Squeeze.
This biz be booming, and if you, too, wanna be a weasel, check out Steve "Pacman" Pachter's seminar, which begins February 17. I've seen Pac in action, and he knows enough about the biz to know not to eat all the shrimp, especially when the lead singer for the band whose party it is is positioning for the platter. Pachter also worked as an exec at majors and handled all sorts of big stars. You can save $50 off the registration by signing up early. Call 722-6797.
Last time Murphy's Law played Broward, a riot broke out. This week, on Monday, the band plays at the Edge for the Hardcore Ball '93, joining the Itch and Load. Children, behave.
Butthorn of the week: Banks. From the Miami Review comes this fine item about Joel Channing, who bought some property in Palm Beach Gardens from a company called Monogram, which was in financial trouble. Citibank filed foreclosure action against four properties in Channing's Crystal Bay at BallenIsles development, listing them in something called a lis pendens. Whoops. Monogram no longer owned the properties, Citibank had no right to foreclose. Such a move, the Review notes, can "cloud title, scare off buyers, and certainly attracts the kind of publicity owners do not want." Things have apparently been worked out, Channing says he won't sue, but I love the quote from Citibank attorney Robert B. Smith: "Things just got crossed up. It was through inadvertence." I hope I got the details of this screwup correct. If not, it must be inadvertence.
The media circus and pet corner: A new twist in animal exploitation that doesn't hurt a soul. I suppose. You seen this? Cat trading cards. No, not like those DEA drug-dog trading cards Kirk Semple wrote about a few months ago, the ones honoring famous dope-sniffing canines. These are high fiction products, the creation of a Houston company called Purr-fecto. The company has made up an entire baseball league full of fantasy players that are felines. Teams like the San Francisco Cheshires and Miami Breakers, players such as Calpurnia and Amigo and Paris ...okay, it sounds pretty stupid. But: baseball (and other) card collecting is the new national pastime, and one-third of all American households have at least one cat (including the new one on Pennsylvania Avenue).