Top 5, All Time Favorite... or so

I just watched High Fidelity for the first time in a long time.  Ah, John Cusack.  No one does strung out better.

High Fidelity is all music and lists.  So many lists in that movie.  My favorite list (although not itemized and only a list of 3 instead of the movie's standard "Top 5 All Time Favorite" lists) is Jack Black's character's 3 band names at the end of the movie: Sonic Death Monkey, Kathleen Turner Overdrive, and Barry Jive and his Uptown 5.

My friend Patrick has a similar "problem" deciding on a band name.  In his last 3 shows he performed as Skinny P and the Destroyers; Skinny P and the Birthday Bash; and Skinny P and the Handicaps. (See My Talented Friends Part One.)

Band names are fun, but so darn hard to choose.  You want the name to reflect the music, but also the personality of the band members while making sure that it is memorable and of course, clever in some groupie-procuring way. 

Do you remember being asked how many kids you wanted when you yourself were a kid?  Your answer would be directly correlated to the number of baby names you thought were cool.  "I want 6... Peter, Parker, Posey, Punxsutawney, and Bob."  If I could start as many bands as I have cool names to name them, I would have 4 bands:

1. The Sister Karamazov
2. Fifths and Giggles
3. Color Me Wicked
4. Whole Notes from the Underground

Originally, I had 5, but the 5th was "Tequila Mockingbird" which I thought was so clever.  Yeah.  It turns out that there are bands, restaurants, bars, and design companies with the same name.  Not so clever after all.  Thanks a lot, Google.  I was feeling pretty good about myself today.

Brother Sal & The Devil May Care

This is perhaps the most delayed post of all the delayed posts in all the blogs in all the world.  I first saw Brother Sal & The Devil May Care weeks ago.  I jaunted down to the Piano Bar one Sunday night in October to find Mr. Brother and his blues-meets-country band delivering their "warehouse gospel" to the many delighted souls crammed into the bar. 

I knew immediately that I wanted to tell the world (or, you know, the two of you that read this blog) about my new discovery: Brother Sal, the ivory-tinkling, husky-voiced troubadour from Virginia.  However, as the two of you know, I did not.  I have gone to see Brother Sal again since that night in October I still did not write about it. 

Here's the problem: I just get too damn busy having a good time. Too busy reveling in the melodies and effect of the songs to pay attention to the titles and specific content so I can accurately detail them here. Too busy dancing to adjust my camera settings, so I end up with blurred pictures like these:

{ The ghost-like figure on the right is Michael Starr, an amazing fiddler.  His fiddling deserves its own post. }

Brother Sal has a gift.  A gift in which my ears and my bootie delight.  However, as with all gifts, it comes with a curse.  Well, a curse on this blog anyway.  His gift disarms and distracts until I am left with only memories of good times and warm impressions of the experience.  I suppose as the South did to the North, I will have to cede to the old adage, "Details be damned."  That is an old adage, right?

So, there you have it.  A half-assed review of a full-assed band.  Full and round and firm. As all good asses should be.  I'm speaking metaphorically, of course.

http://www.facebook.com/thebrothersal1
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P.S. Brother Sal performs every Saturday and Sunday night at the Piano Bar.

P.P.S. I still need suggestions for my Drunk v. Sober comparative!  So far I have LACMA, reading, writing, and running.

Cover me. I'm goin' in.

Last night Dan, a few of our east coast friends, and I ventured into Penuche's, an underground "dive" bar in Concord, NH.  I feel I should be honest and tell you that it was for the third time this week.  Last night when we got to the bottom of the stairs we were told there was a $3 cover.  This launched a series of word bubbles in my head straight out of SNL's Really!?! with Seth and Amy.  $3 is not bad, but I thought I had left cover charges behind in LA. 

Too many bars in LA charge a cover at the door simply for the privilege of spending your money inside - no entertainment, no nuthin'.  Many times when you are paying a cover to see a band, the bar or club keeps all or most of the money made at the door. Often when I play shows with my band, there is a cover - usually around $10 - but my band and I see none of it.  The music scene is so vast and competitive that if you are not amenable to the terms offered by a venue, they will easily and speedily find someone who is.

Last night I could hear that a band was playing inside, so I silently hoped at least some of the cover would go to them and paid up.  A little while later I was voicing my umbrage at the cover to one of Dan's friends who lives in the area and she delivered the refreshing news that the guy taking money at the door told her all the money goes to the band.  How refreshing!  Good for the band and good for Penuche's.

P.S.  I know it's a blogger's obligation to bring a camera everywhere to document everything.  I have no problem complying with this during the day; however, for some reason when night falls and I have a drink in my hand, my lens cap stays on.  After 3 nights at Penuche's, this is the only photo I can produce:
 
I'll work on that.