By Rebecca Bulnes
By Laurie Charles
By Chuck Strouse
By Lee Zimmerman
By Laurie Charles
By Falyn Freyman
By Hans Morgenstern
Even more encouraging for the band's prospects is the involvement of well-connected manager Max Borges, formerly of MARS Music's foundling record label and before that of the National Academy for Recording Arts and Sciences. "Max has a fire under his ass, and I don't want it to ever go out," says Smith. "We're ready to eat marshmallows." To prove the point, Borges announces gravely that a major label is financing a Shufly demo, and others have shown interest.
Deflating Borges's solemnity, Coogan yells, "Here come the crack and the hookers!"
Sharpe leaps up and pulls off his leather jacket to display a "Shufly" tattoo across his upper back.
"Now watch us break up tomorrow," worries rhythm guitarist Mandy Rua, adjusting his Grumpy the Dwarf baseball cap.
"This is a band that is not going to go away, record company or no record company," insists Sharpe, shaking his jacket back onto his shoulders.
"We will work our asses off," pledges Smith in mock seriousness. "Mine is almost completely off."
Worried that the interview is getting out of hand, Rua interjects, "Everyone can relate to Scott's lyrics." Then he recites: "“I feel, I feel, I feel wonderful/I fall, I fall, I fall everyday.' Everyone feels like that."
"It's all about turning yourself inside out," explains Smith in true seriousness.
But Coogan doesn't want anyone to get the wrong idea. "We're not here to educate anybody, to teach anybody or cure the ills of the world," he clarifies. "We just want people to come in and have fun. No confusion. No thinking allowed."
In rapture out on the Lincoln Road sidewalk later that night, the teenage girls are happy to comply.