By Trevor Bach
By Francisco Alvarado
By Trevor Bach
By Michael E. Miller
By Allie Conti
By David Villano
By Jose D. Duran
By Michael E. Miller
A bit of trivia as we relax and reflect. Last week we exulted Professor Griff's new one, mentioning in particular the lead track "Phuck the Media." We've just obtained an advance demo (although we already had the finished release). On the demo, the song "Phuck the Media" is titled as "Phuk the Media." Thank god for editing (or is it editting?). Meanwhile, the editors at The Hard Report, a radio-industry bible, found space to mention the fiercely dedicated hard work of yours truly and my partner Todd Anthony. The publication mentioned that "a Miami weekly newspaper ... that caused a stir by printing a review of a fictional new Bruce Springsteen album ... is in trouble again," then went on to quote liberally from Anthony's recent (fictional) interview with Michael Bolton. And the mag added this: "Bolton's record company got New Times to print a clarification the following week indicating that the 'conversation was not real.'" Sort of. The clarification appeared in this column and mostly made fun of the concept that anybody could've mistaken Anthony's adept skewering as some sort of serious reportage. A friendly flack at Bolton's label was most thankful that I would endeavor to ridicule, er, I mean, clarify, the matter, because Bolton's manager was apparently in the process of slashing his wrists with a sharpened CD of Timeless Classics.
A couple of weeks ago, reflecting on all this, I found myself watching the inaugural bawl on teevy. Now, I've always felt that Todd Anthony has been way too hard on Michael Bolton. But I let him have his say because I respect Anthony's views, and besides all I knew about Bolton was that I'd heard him rape "Dock of the Bay" some years ago. On the screen, there was Bolton, all glittery and tuxed, wreaking sonic havoc on Bill Withers's "Lean on Me." Hmmm. So Bolton's playing Bayfront Park this Saturday. My editor's office faces the stage of the amphitheater from across Biscayne Boulevard. I have in my hands a Remington BDL with scope. I've got Bolton's crass hair in my crosshairs...
...but I can't pull the trigger. Michael Bolton doesn't deserve to die. And he doesn't need Todd's belligerent verbiage. Bolton deserves something worse. (The preceding conversation was not real. Bruce? Don't even ask.)
Box scores: The Mr. Stock and Mr. Poe Show A or is it The Mr. Poe and Mr. Stock Show? A is back. Tune in cable-channel 35 today (Wednesday) at 3:00 p.m. (or tomorrow at 9:00 p.m. or Friday at 9:30 a.m.) and see the famous duo grill another famous duo, the Fabulous Flying Barries. That would be John Barry and Dave Barry, who are not related in any way other than that they're both employed at that other newspaper in town. John Barry used to be a copy editor until New Times honored him for his work on the "People" column with a "Best of Miami" award. The Herald immediately switched him to feature writing. (We did not get a consultant's fee.) We have no idea who Dave Barry is.
Co-host of the above referenced program Mike Stock is busy promoting the first in his folk series concerts, Carrie Newcomer this Friday at Stephen Talkhouse, and correcting that "confirmed" Greg Brown date, which is March 13 and remains a reason to live. By the way, I think we'll set a record for Browns in concert this year A Greg, Bobby, Charles, and Savoy all have shows coming up.
And black, too. All month WINZ-AM (940) will be airing Black Expressions, vignettes about prominent African-Americans (god I hate that term), their contributions, their roots. The segments air each day at 5:38, 10:38, and 1:34 a.m. and 3:38 and 8:34 p.m. Finally the media responds. Did we mention that these shows are exactly one minute in length?
Word in the dungeon is that those fab slashers from upstate, Gen and the Genitorturers, have signed a deal with I.R.S. Congrats, and bust a spleen, kids.
One of the songs by Tribal Dogs, "Deep End," has been picked up by a pilot show for ESPN. The boys are slated for a Talkhouse gig tonight (Wednesday) and have an album in the works.
Just say show: Swyambu plugs in at the Plus Five tomorrow (Thursday). This Saturday's a biggie at the Unitarian Universalist Society (7701 SW 76th Avenue, South Miami) when Linda Davis, Paul Roub, and Mary Karlzen play live at 8:00 p.m. Picture This takes the stage at Rosebud's next Monday.
Butthorn of the week: The owners of the Miami Heat. You can't get angry (unless you're a South Florida, which is to say sunshine, fan) at any team for losing. But the Heat aren't just losing. They've fallen apart and nobody's making much effort to reassemble the pieces. First step is to dump coach Kevin Loughery. How ironic, and telling, that a year ago John Lucas was coaching a semipro team right here in Miami and is now a certifiable bet for Coach of the Year after taking the San Antonio Spurs over the top and making them the current number-one team in the league. The Heat shoulda hired Lucas when they coulda. They still should.
The media circus: Speaking of the Heat, the ice-cold B-ball team is helping WSVN-Channel 7 insinuate itself into the brains of season ticket holders. Channel 7, whose nightly news show has lately been saving us money on the rental of Faces of Death tapes, appears in a special promo video sent to Heat fans. The logo pops up. Subliminally. It's bad enough that Channel 7 manages to show a man shooting his wife to death in a cemetery, an L.A. riots stoning of a truck driver, and a police maiming of a guy named Rodney King A in one program, but now, it appears, the station is using the insidious method of subliminal mind intrusion to ingrain its spotty image on Heat fans' brains. Sick.