I haven't seen it yet, but apparently I'm quoted saying nice things about the Goods (what's not to like?) in the new issue of Spotlight. I deduced this from a private, confidential note sent to me by the boys. From John: "Thanks for the kind words in Spotlight.... Thanks for being the gadfly. Thanks for Kurt Cobain, even if you were wrong. You know what rock and roll is, so I'm glad you like us." From Tony: "Hey boss, have a Bud; [or bud, he writes in all uppercase] and a good time in the highlands." From Jim: "Thanks for the support over the years, it means quite a lot." From Elvis: "Rock on, T.C.B." Brazil trippin' tonight (Thursday) at Tobacco Road, where saxophonist Raul Mascarenhas and guitarist Mario Adnet y Banda perform at 9:00 p.m.
Arlan Feiles is a piece of shit. Sloppy Joe was slated to jam at the Cafe Bacala open mike the other night. He was tuning up, then went outside to fetch Ben Peeler to sit in with him. Apparently the organizers thought he wasn't ready, and by the time Joe got back, they'd let someone else go on before him. Someone named Arlan Feiles. Someone who paralyzed the room with an acoustic reading of "In God's Country." Someone no one wants to follow. Anyway, I was informed in the strictest confidence and off the record that Saturday is Arlan's birthday, an epic occasion to be sure. Natural Causes play that night at Stephen Talkhouse with Gainesville sensations Big White Undies. The following night at the same venue, Arlan joins with Rene Alvarez to present a songwriters' workshop. And all seriousness aside: Happy b-day, brother.
Humberto Ramirez and the Jazz Project perform tonight (Thursday) at Rose's as part of the Billboard International Latin Music Conference.
The greedy, monopolistic conspiracy to rip you off called Ticketmaster is conducting a national-music showcase. Bands in a few dozen cities will be selected to perform live before record-biz hotshots. (Admission to the show itself, skedded for later this summer, will be $5 plus a $23 service charge.) You want to send your entry form and cassette to Ticketmaster Music Showcase, 3701 Wilshire Blvd., Los Angeles, CA 90010 or call 800-800-3232.
Butthorn of the week: Not to step on the turf of Jen Jenny Jen, but this week's dis goes to Deli Lane Restaurant, per my colleague and friend Mary, who had a, um, not-too-pleasant experience there. "I've been lethally allergic to peanuts all my life and I'm more than a little careful in my effort to exist somewhere between the extreme of acute paranoia and self-endangering carelessness," she explains, digging out of the computer files a story from eight years ago about a woman who died after inadvertently eating peanut butter. Mary went to Deli Lane for a late supper and a beer, and, she says, it nearly turned out be a last supper. "I ordered the 'pasta with tomatoes sauteed in basil, olive oil, and garlic with balsalmic vinegar.' I took one bite and it was pretty obvious to me something was wrong because the inside of my mouth started puffing up and I immediately recognized symptoms of an allergic reaction." Turns out there was pesto, apparently made with peanuts, in that there pasta, even though that wasn't mentioned on the menu. If she'd known that, she wouldn't have ordered it A even killer pasta isn't worth dying for. After a quick trip to the hospital, Mary slept for fourteen hours and seems to be okay.
The media circus: I hear that WVUM-FM, the UM radio station and the best alternative outlet anywhere near here, is refusing to air PSAs for the school's Hemp Awareness Council. Spread those butthorns like peanut butter. Remember, pot doesn't kill people. Life (or lack of it) does.