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
Oh, great, now I'm getting complaints from readers because I'm not babbling self-referentially and taking up valuable space with my meaningless meanderings. You're angry because I've been dispensing with the endless blah-blah-blah that generally makes this column about three times longer than it needs to be. Ya gotta understand, partners and pals, that I work for a giant corporation with editors who demand that we troublemakers mainstream, downsize, and act a little bit professional to keep the big bucks pouring in. Calling Wayne Huizenga the antichrist, as I did recently, is inviting a lawsuit. (Okay, I actually wanted to call him a fucking jerkoff, which definitely wouldn't have gone over.) But hey, all this is nobody's business because I work in a glass house. Plus I'm stoned. And if you think my editors hate me, and you hate me, you should hear what people in the music industry say about me. Beyond hate.
Who do I think I am with all this gibberish, Hunter S. Thompson? My brother Chuck hated the coly two weeks ago when I just shut up. But he hates everything I write. And little Stevie Weavie, too, who bitched that I wasn't wasting enough valuable space. That's why I flabberjabbered last week about f-words. "I'm pissed," brother Chuck says, "'cause I can tell you're pissed. Who are you pissed off at?" Wrong. I love the whole world (except Wayne Huizenga). And what does Weavie say about the f-words? "Not ph-balanced." Hey, Steve: Phuck you, too.
All right, so I'm not Hunter Thompson. At least I have his fax number out at Owl Farm. I even have the first page of the rough draft of his new book, due out any minute, I think A the book not the draft. I sent him a fax asking him to correspond, and another threatening his life, but so far no word from Woody Creek. So why don't you try? Fax Hunter today at 303-923-6891. This is about you, not me.
Knock, knock, knockin' at the Nocturnal Cafe: Tonight (Thursday) you got your Purple Mustard spilling some acoustic (the full band plays Reunion Room on September 1). And Saturday you've got your Mood, which is Dania Morris's new band.
More good music on teevy. The Danny Jessup Show, Cable TAP Channel 36 on Saturdays at 10:00 p.m., presents Milk Can this Saturday and Jim and Jonelle the following week. Milk Can will play four songs and reveal the secrets of the universe.
Backwash, Notch Above Kafka, and God's Wounds play the Button South on Sunday.
Better catch For Squirrels tomorrow (Friday) at the Reunion Room or Saturday at Rose's or Sunday at the Talkhouse (the last with the Goods and the Holy Terrors). After that the rockin' rodents hit the road for the Children's Academy Tour (named after their van, which they bought from...yup). They'll play 80 shows in less than four months, all the way up to Boston and as far west as Seattle. Their new EP is Plymouth. The van's a Ford.
Bulletin, Tuesday, August 16: Stevie Nicks announces the cancellation of exclusive South Florida appearances of her Street Angel Tour at the Kravis Center on September 23 and 24.
So what ever happened to Little Nicky and the Slicks? They're now called Sandbox Romeo, and they play Tobacco Road tomorrow (Friday). (If you don't know, go.)
So what ever happened to Zombie Birdhouse? They're now just Birdhouse, have made a couple of lineup changes, and they'll be in town to play live at the Talkhouse on September 9.
A lovely post card from Carla Hall. She's been out in New Orleans, playing shows and working on new songs for a possible November release. She'll be back.
Time for the Midsummer's Nite Screem (their spellings, not mine) at Squeeze. Tomorrow (Friday) Phil T. Rich hosts the annual event, with the Goods and Colors of Illusion.
The Colour Junkies, whose new tape is Tinted Addiction, play the Sanctuary up in Boynton Beach on Saturday and the Edge on Wednesday.
Butthorn of the week: He's gonna zing ya. Don't blame me when he does. H. Wayne is about you.
The media circus: My wife has a brilliant plan for the chamber of commerce folks. Save all the rafts for the next Coconut Grove Bed Race.