Cactina, Saturday night. Rat Bastard making up wild stories about a childhood spent pursuing Pacifico beer, forcing me to try it, us emptying the place of every last full bottle before Rooster Head even took the stage. Bartender won't make change for a paying customer, namely my pal Lenny; bro, are we in the right bar? Voidville live is just what everybody kept telling me they were -- amazing and more, guitar and bass riffs perfectly played and placed within the songs, Diane Ward singing the lights out, but the drummer, Randy Blitz, yes that's his real given name, stealing the spot with the best skinning I've seen/heard since Soup Town's last outing. Magnum set by Voidville, only their second full-band performance. You can see them on February 28 at Washington Square and on March 3 with the excellent Natural Causes at Stephen Talkhouse. Watch out, America. And Rooster Head? They suck. Yeah, right. Rooster Head plays again tonight (Wednesday) at the Talkhouse and tomorrow up at the Ambassador.
Has anybody heard a word up about this Miami Rocks thing? Oh, yeah. The other papers in town will soon publish big, goofy overviews, I'm sure, but we ain't having that. We like our hype pure and simple, be there, don't miss it, et cetera. And we like to make life sooo easy for you, dear reader: On Friday, February 19, at Club Nu, the line-up, in order: Barrelhouse, Cell 63, Paul Roub (acoustic), Mary Karlzen, Question Reality (acoustic), Holy Terrors, Carla Hall (acoustic), Demonomacy, Tuff Luck. The next night, it's Le Coup, Snatch the Pebble, the Bellefires (acoustic), Love Canal, Six Silver Spiders (acoustic), Natural Causes, Will Quinlan (acoustic), Rooster Head, and Load. Them's some mighty fine live acts. Be there, et cetera.
What we have here is a failure to illuminate: Tonight and tomorrow Yvonne Brown re-creates the goddess Billie Holiday with help from jazz stars Jon Frangipane (piano), Pete Minger (trumpet), Eric Allison (tenor sax), Danny Burger (drums), Simon Salz (guitar), and Phil Flanigan (bass). It's at the Riverside Hotel in Fort Lauderdale, call 524-0805. Love Canal fires up Washington Square this Friday. Kilmo and the Killers are back for some warm weather and shows Friday at Dirty Moe's in Boca Raton, Saturday at the Inn-Field Pub in Sunrise, and more. Whistling Tinheads and the Volunteers, with bagpipe, happens Saturday at the bar that serves Pacifico.
Didn't we resolve all this crap about censorship? Guess not. Tomorrow (Thursday) at 7:00 p.m. a bunch of cocksu ...brilliant individuals form a panel and talk freely about it. The title of the symp is Triple X Rated: Censorship in the Arts, and the place is the auditorium of the Center for the Fine Arts in downtown Miami. Joanne Butcher will moderate a group that includes artist Juan Abreu, writer Jordan Levin, artist Leslie Klein, Cuban Museum of Arts and Culture exec director Cristina Nosti, and attorneys Ellis Rubin and Jack Thompson. The lawyers get the press: Rubin, like many of his clients, will do anything for a fee and a blip on the teevy news. Thompson sucks. Yeah, right. You aren't allowed to say that. Watch out, America.
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$andy Kane loves Dick, and I'm starting to think she actually likes me, of all people. She has big tits, a decent voice, and a deep comedic panache, and she just got a great review from Jam. She writes to say she enjoyed a feature story I wrote recently that mentioned Samantha Strong, among the top porn actresses on the planet. Ms. Kane says she worked with Ms. Strong in New York, and that Sam danced to "I Want Some Pussy." (Can you say that? Shut up.) Plus this, "Thanx my friend for not being a pussy." Yeah, right. $andy also claims she's writing a new song, "Greg Baker Isn't Here Tonight," which should get her sued by Paul Roub, Zac, and maybe even Todd Anthony.
Sista, sista fuck the mista. Forget pumpin' your fista. Man, I'm still trying to sort out the first single from Professor Griff's new album. Watched the video for "Sista Sista" and that helped and hurt. Too much to think about, and that's really the bottom line when it comes to the Griff-ter. Luke Records is hyping it this way: "A song for black women. A song about black women. Done by a black man. For a black company." Sho' nuff. Luke Records went underground on the black tip after Atlantic dissed the company on a seven-figure -- I mean, seven-fegro -- deal. Not that Griff isn't a free agent after this album, but money ain't it, my good brothers. Somebody has to get this dope out to the masses, and right now Luke's doing it for Griff and Griff's doin' it. Watch out.
I especially like jazz that's juiced by drums/percussion, and Abbey Rader's doing it, mixing Middle Eastern progressions with jazz improvs for the fattest groove this side of Tuesday. Check him out, with Richie Brookens (reeds), David Wertman (bass), and Joe Zeytoonian (oud, percussion) at 2:00 p.m. Sunday at the MidEastern Dance Exchange. Call 538-1608.
Butthorn of the week and the media circus: Dave "On the Money" Letterman. Cheers means nothing to me, and I could care less that its long run is over, but I am worried about fat boy George "Norm" Wendt. What happens to him now? Why do I care? Because the other night on Letterman he showed a picture of himself wearing a Replacements T-shirt and mentioned another of his fave bands, Soul Asylum. Cool, George. Letterman responded by saying, "They're a Seattle band, aren't they?" Yeah, Johnny.