By Michael E. Miller
By Allie Conti
By David Villano
By Jose D. Duran
By Michael E. Miller
By Allie Conti
By Kyle Swenson
By Luther Campbell
Frank "Rat Bastard" Falestra came out to watch our basketball team (formerly known as "New Times" but dubbed "Foghat" this season) play the other night. After the game my wife spotted the Ratboy, and I told her he was our new coach. Rat: "If I was your coach, I would've lost my voice by now screaming at you guys." Gee, thanks, Falestra. I guess that's a pay-ya-back.
Not long before, Rat had sent me a fax announcing that Harry Pussy's twelve-inch on Siltbreeze sold out even though it's still being pressed A the order was bought up for distribution and more orders were advanced. At the end of the fax, Rat added this sarcastic postscript: "See you at Churchill's Saturday. Right."
Right, Frank. I admit that I haven't seen a live rock and roll show in weeks. Somebody's gotta find time to write this dumbass column, you know? By some miracle of conveyance -- don't ask me -- I made it to the Church on time that night, and got a real payback. On-stage were the Goods. This is the first time I've seen this new band live, and they're pretty good, especially the drummer, Elvis. And then I remembered why I used to go to rock and roll shows all the time, then I remembered why I bother with this b.s. you're reading, then I saw the future, again. Charlie Pickett. With stalwart Marco on bass. With Randy Blitz taking over drums. And with a remarkably fit-looking, sober-seeming John Salton, the greatest guitarist I've ever seen live, and yes, I've seen Clapton and the rest. The house was packed with top local musicians and even a couple of critics, including NT contributor Jim Murphy and author Jeff Lemlich. I think I incoherently screamed out a few requests that the band smartly ignored, but seeing Salton at this level, in this form -- backed by the impossibly powerful rhythm section and fronted by the impossibly legendary CP -- was too much for me, so after the set I went over and spit "pla da reglatr song dint ya not?" Salton sat down at a table with an acoustic guitar and played a personal, solo encore. I'll never forget it.
And about that Harry Pussy: In the "Raves" section of the June 16 issue of Rolling Stone appears Miami native and Sonic Youth genius Thurston Moore's cultural recommendations. (Yes, Rat, it is a shame that Sonic Youth and stories about their new album were likely bumped from the covers of Spin and Stone for special tributes to that dead Seattle guy.) Of nine items, only three of which are about records, one was this: "Harry Pussy: A group from Miami Beach. I got their record in the mail. Anarchistic noise freak-out stuff that I think is really cool."
Sir Bo has announced that this Saturday night at the Church, it's the Francis Ford Falestra I'm So Terribly Sorry to Say Broward Rules Festival, sponsored by Jam, XS, the Rag, Blockbuster Entertainment, and Ticketmaster (be sure to call them for tickets and other info). Harry Pussy will perform, along with a stellar lineup including Snatch the Pebble, Exploited USA, and Kreamy 'Lectric Santa UK. You'll be there. Right?
Nuclear Valdez plays tomorrow (Friday) at Reunion Room, then heads to Puerto Rico for a couple of shows with Urge Overkill.
Happy eighteenth to the Musicians Exchange (see "Calendar" for more).
Next Tuesday Cafe Bacala (at Blue Steel) debuts Where's John Cage? a performance piece by Seven. Sloppy Joe, Zac, Diane Ward, the ubiquitous Rat boy, and maybe even Rene Alvarez will be on hand for what promises to make the great anticomposer turn in his grave and spew gaping heaps of whipped cream. Beats silence.
Over at the Breadbox studio, Choke Hold is finishing up a four-song cassette, Mindflux and Mindloss (apparently two separate bands) are beginning projects, and the Budda Briefcases are also doing time.
You can get funked up tomorrow (Friday) at Squeeze with Raw B. Jae and his posse.
Reggae monsters Phoenix Uprising are in town for Miami's best street festival (Goombay, in the Grove, a floataway dream vibe of pumping sounds, including Junkanoo bands, and killer food and warm peace, taking place this weekend). The Uprising will also celebrate the release of their new album and perform a live show, tomorrow (Friday) and Saturday, respectively, at the Hungry Sailor. I hate to use this word lightly, but I must: Irie.
Natural Causes has broken up. Their last show is tonight (Thursday) at Stephen Talkhouse, after Steve Forbert. Cha. The truth is, they're just gonna take a little break (two weeks if they're lucky) before returning to the live realm some of us know as heaven.
The sugar-cane soul, hut rock, stomping blues et cetera of the Shack Daddys (featuring Groove Thangs remnants Kilmo and Bonefish Johnny) can be heard at Rose's tomorrow (Friday).
Wayne Huizinger isn't the only one taking a dump on the precious and irreplaceable Everglades. The sugar companies have for years been pissing in your water and all over what's left of the wildlife out there. Tonight (Thursday) at 101 W. Flagler St. environmentalists and sugar reps A including U.S. Sugar V.P. Malcolm Wade A will talk about the raping of the swamp. The brawl begins at 7:00. Immediately following, EarthStage will present A Matter of Life, a multimedia piece by Darby Hayes, which will be reprised on Saturday and Sunday at 3:00 p.m. Be there or be a toilet.