Program Notes

Let me state just two things before I go so you won't forget: The South Florida Rock Awards (the third annual) is going to be awesome this year and is going to be December 9. And I've heard a rumor that the sales side of the New Times corporation will be somehow taking part in Miami Rocks, Too! so this is the last time I'll be mentioning Miami Rocks, Too! in this space.

I dig, you dug? I thought Lava Love's first album was pretty cool and well made, but it was their live show that splattered my brains all over the wall. I still have the actual setlist, snatched from the stage postshow and now stored in a vault at Southeast Bank. The Atlanta band is currently in the studio, cutting their second album for Sky, tentatively titled Aphrodesia. They expect pressing to begin this week with a December release hoped for. "The new material is grungier, psychedelic, tinged with regret," says dervish and singer Esta Hill. "I hope that's not the makin's of a sophomore slump."

Wonderland has an in-store slated for Yesterday & Today (Bird Road) on Sunday at 4:00 p.m.

Surely you know the wonders of Blue Note, a record store that actually sells vinyl. Two of the venerable shop's erstwhile staff members have opened their own place, Apples, in the same neighb, at 16336 West Dixie Highway in North Miami Beach. Stop in for rock, blues, jazz, soul on CD, tape, and, yes, vinyl. The number there is 945-6264. (By the way, the reason "vinyl" is italicized is because it's no longer an English-language word, having become foreign to manufacturers and consumers alike.)

Miami Rocks, Too! So I lied.

Club scouts: Forget the Name returns to the scene Friday at Churchill's Hideaway. We shoulda woulda coulda told you this beforehand, but we didn't know: Washington Square's been closed. Just for some renovation, including the wiping out of the back room, where the stage will now be, creating some much-needed front space, just in time for a slew of big acts, beginning with Chickasaw Mudpuppies, this Friday, which is when the club reopens. (Deep breath.) Squeeze's already blazing Wednesday nights scorch through October with Black Janet, Marilyn Manson and the Spooky Kids, the Funk and the Itch sharing a bill, and Lyrics for Lunch with Factory Black. Read those "Club" listings, and if you're really into it, check out "Swelter," too.

The Butthorn of Soul, Butthorn Number One, the Hardest Working Butthorn in Show Business, It's a Butthorn's, Butthorn's, Butthorn's World: Thanks for all your calls. Yes, the Orange Bowl was an outlandish notion. Yes, more people should have bought advance tickets. Yes, Papa's Got a Brand New Butthorn.

Butthorn of the week: Anheuser-Busch's Natural Light beer. Several weeks ago I traipsed to the local Varadero and bought myself a six-pack of Natural Light in the bottle. I got home, chilled 'em, and drank one. Drank another. And another. And the next bottle was only part full. All sealed up, but half empty. I checked the others, and sure enough, two more bottles were on the short side, contentswise. I gulped, thinking of the poor man who died from drinking tainted Pony Malta. So the next day I took one of the bogus beers back to the store and asked if maybe an employee was somehow slipping the cap off, swigging a bit, and carefully replacing the top. No way, they said. So I called Anheuser-Busch out in St. Louis. The nice lady said she'd order the local guy to pick up the bottles and that Anheuser-Busch would test them for tainting, and, by the way, they'd give me a free case to make amends. Cool. I promised to turn over to them one bottle, and that I'd have another bottle tested independently, just in case Anheuser-Busch couldn't be trusted. Oh, boy. After making exactly 956,492 phone calls, I found out that no government agency would test the stuff unless I drank some and died, or at least got very, very ill. Anyway, nothing happened for a while. So I called the nice lady at A-B back, and she said she'd get right on it, and that I'd be getting a free case, and that of course Anheuser-Busch could be trusted. More time passed, I'm talking days here, and then someone from A-B called me. A case of beer would be delivered Monday. Okay. Monday came and went, my grandchildren were born.... I called them back. (I did not mention that I could have saved enough on long-distance phone calls to buy two or three cases.) Sorry, the nice lady said, we'll get right on it, and your beer will be there any minute. I've long since given up on the free case, but I remain curious as to whether what was in those bottles was deadly. An independent lab test would cost a ton of money. By now the stuff's evaporated anyway. Maybe I'll save the residue. For all I know, it could be pure cocaine. Then I'd have a ton of money. Wait, friends, it ain't over yet. I went to my local Varadero the other day and bought a twelve-pack of Anheuser-Busch Natural Light in the cans. Some of the cans were dented. One was half full. Or half empty, rather. I tasted it, hoping I would die so the stuff would be tested and found to be poisoned and I would be a hero for saving so many lives. It tasted flat like water and I didn't die. But I'm about ready to kill somebody.

The media circus: That was some outburst, eh? It's cool. This is the last "Program Notes." I've been recruited by the St. Louis Cardinals. Center field.

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Greg Baker