Pull up a chair. I have something to tell you. There is a band called Silversun Pickups and they are really good live. We just saw them at Live Nation’s showplace in Philly, the Fillmore. If you get a chance to see them in your town, you ought to check them out.
One of the amazing things about live rock is that it is happening all around you all the time, and it doesn’t really cost that much to partake. Well, unless you want to go see Roger Waters (why??) or some other big-named stud. If that’s your groove, you better start thinking things like “do I want a new kitchen or do I want to see Roger Waters?” Because the big time acts that play arenas and stadiums want to suck every entertainment dollar you have and put it into their pocket so that they can fly around in private jets and drink Dom Perignon with their corn flakes. They are the entertainment equivalent of The Man - they want everything from you.
And then there is us. The great majority of people who simply want to shake their bones to some good tunes, enjoy a beverage or two with their Lipitor, and not get robbed blind for nose-bleed seats in an acoustically-crappy arena. That is where bands like SSPU come in. They are happy to drive around the country in beat up old vans so that they can go on stage and get their crowd rush. Maybe they hope to someday play football stadiums, but maybe not. I don’t really wish for a lot more material stuff than what I have, and I know tons of people like me. So maybe they are satisfied with a good life that allows them to make a living by playing music. That sounds a lot better than grinding it out for The Man.
Whatever it is, they continue to headline venues like the Fillmore, or the TLA, or Union Transfer. They hardly cost more than $40, oftentimes closer to $20. In the audience, you get close to the stage so that you can see their faces, you don’t sit in a stadium seat and watch them on some jumbotron, and you get free (well, maybe) parking that is close to the venue. Sure, sometimes that parking is in places where you suddenly find yourself being a huge supporter of the 2d Amendment, but hey, it’s kind of cool to park in a dark and scary place filled with broken glass, and live to tell the story.
Wait a minute, I thought I was writing about SSPU and you distracted me. I’m ready again to write about them. Nah, that’s a bluff: I have to write first about their opening act, Minus the Bear. (Where do these people come up with their band names anyway? Does everyone swing by Colorado for a few weeks of heavy doping and then go “Aha! I have the perfect name for a band! Minus the Bear!” and the other stoners go, oh, wow, man, you’re right that is perfect.) Minus the Bear is a band from Seattle, and they were (a) a good musical match for SSPU, (b) a well-rehearsed, good sounding band with enough material to get them through a very respectable 45 minute set, and (c) sporting a silly name. Here are some pictures:
I know virtually nothing about Minus the Bear, which is why they invented Google. I have learned that this group has been around since 2001, and has 6 albums and 4 EPs out. Holy crap! That’s more production than tons of bands. Their music is probably best described as indie rock, meaning it is rock, but has elements of experimental stuff like electronica thrown in. They have two guitars, a bass and a drummer, plus a dude who dances around and looks down at a pre-programmed computer thing the entire time and calls himself a “keyboardist.”
Their songs are instantly catchy and the hooks are quite sizable. You can grab hold right away and have yourself a good time. That’s what we did, and we all agreed, using a mind-meld called “group think,” that this band is pretty good.
But there’s almost always a gap between the opener and the headliner, and this show was no exception. Silversun Pickups took over the ample stage at the Fillmore and simply cranked out a very lively, very solid 1.5 hour set that had us all smiling. And this on a Sunday evening when Philly’s football team was crushing some wannabes from Dallas.
Let’s get out the essentials. SSPU is a quartet based in Los Angeles, a small city with large silicon and botox deposits, located on the West Coast. They include Brian Aubert (guitar, vocals), Nikki Monninger (bass), Joe Lester (keyboards) and Christopher Guanlao (drums). Only one guitar? Yup, and I still liked them. They are super-indie, with driving rhythms and ethereal, spacey effects jammed together around catchy hooks. Aubert has a high voice (I thought it was Nikki doing most of the singing, sorry, my bad), but it’s pure and tonal. They are good musicians, and they take their craft seriously.
At first, I thought that Aubert was some sort of diva as he kept getting a roadie to help him put on his guitars. But then I noticed that there was something wrong with one of his arms. Turns out that he fell off stage during a previous show and broke his arm, but he still figured out a way to play guitar and move about the stage. We all thought that he was grimacing at times, but he kept right on playing and moving about the stage. Man, if that’s not a “show must go on” kind of professionalism, I don’t know what is. Instant respect.
Nikki is cool, too. She hops about playing the bass and driving the beat, and has a nice manner. Like a lot of women in rock bands, she performs in a dress. Cool, right? I always thought women looked fly in dresses, and Nikki does for sure.
SSPU ripped through their best songs – Pins and Needles, Circadian Rhythms, Panic Switch, Lazy Eye – and had the joint jumping. Aubert has a fun stage presence, and his banter was about perfect, short and sweet, but funny and informative. He looked up at the balcony sections and asked them to keep engaged in the show and “not go all VIP on us,” and then he turned to the floor crowd and said that the floor was where it was at. WINNER! I’m not much for the VIP types – one side was actually ok with about half of them standing, but the other side featured a bunch of duds, all seated and looking like they were watching the latest Marvel comics barf movie. You know, dead look and the twitchy hand grabbing the phone to see if someone, anyone, had texted them in the last minute. I used to be a VIP – Very Intoxicated Person – at many shows, and I’m basically done with all that stuff. Here's a picture of your typical VIP crowd:
Enough of the VIPs. How about what was really happening? You mean there was a CONCERT on that stage?
I got some good pictures of the band, but I didn’t press my way up to the front like I usually do. The Fillmore is kind of big, and I was with a group who were reluctant to face the crush. I hope you like what I captured anyway.
Onward and upward. I don’t have any shows this weekend as I’m gorging on turkey instead, but oh man, next weekend is going to be trouble. I’ll pop some other worthy and classic stuff up in the meantime, and you put your computer on “sleep” but don’t log out. You’re not going to want to miss a damn thing here at BRP. Take a nap, I’ll be back. In the meantime, check out the SSPU website
Fill me in on who you have on your musical list right now. I’m outta here for now.
Oh, speaking of gobbles, VT won its in-state rivalry game with UVa for the 14th year in a row, and finished the season at 9-3. If they win their bowl game, never a gimme, they could put up back-to-back 10 wins seasons and finish in the top 20 yet again. Let's Go! Hokies!
Rock on, envious ones.
Yo, I’m back and so are you. I’m in the midst of my end of the year music run. Show number one digs way back into the classic rock archives. In the words of the cheesy cult movie The Warriors, can you dig it?
BRP readers know that I love the Queen in Wilmington. It’s a great venue: good sight lines, great acoustics, and a cool half-restored look that features a beautiful large dome on the very high ceiling. Plus, it’s super easy to find cheap and close parking (always a plus from my cheap-ass point of view), and the bar is in the back and out of the way. If there is a band coming to the Queen that I want to see, I’m there.
Along comes a notice that Cheap Trick is playing the Queen. Whoa, wait a minute, this is a small venue, holding maybe 400 people. Why is a Rock ‘n Roll Hall of Fame band playing the Queen? Hell if I know, but I scooped up a few tickets and was gone.
Cheap Trick has been around forever. Blasting out of Illinois, they came onto the scene in the 1970s, and hit their stride with the Live at Budokan album. You know the famous tracks: “I Want You To Want Me,” “Surrender,” “Dream Police,” “Ain’t That A Shame,” “California Man,” – and they played them all. There are 3 of 4 original members still touring (Rick Nielson, Robin Zander and Tom Petterson), and the band has played more than 5,000 live gigs. They gotta be great, right?
The band has some well-tread stage stuff going on, from their outfits to their instruments. Nielson, who has always struck an onstage pose as a bit of a weirdo, has over 400 guitars and he brought out some doozies: check out this 5 necked thing that must weigh a ton. And yes, I have the pictures to prove that he used at least 3 of those 5 necks.
But silliness aside, the band was just average. Sure, I enjoyed some of their tunes quite a bit, but they also played “Heaven Tonight,“ a snoozer and loser from way back that sucked the energy out of the crowd. And while the crowd got into it at the end, there was a delayed recovery from “Heaven Tonight” that lead to a lot of standing around and craft beer drinking rather than rockin’ and jammin’. Hey, CT, your crowd is a bunch of baby boomers – unless you are packing a defibrillater in your bag of tricks, you better play some loud and snotty rock to keep this beta blocking crowd going.
There was no opening act, and Cheap Trick, being old as the Earth themselves, came out right at 8. They played a whopping 1.5 hours, so we left at 9:30. I was on the highway and back home before the 10 o’clock news was done. Seriously? That allowed me to give The Man a full and unblemished day on Friday. That’s terrible!
Would I recommend seeing CT? Nope. If they are at a festival or opening for another act, sure, go check them out. But they demand a premium club price, and they are just average as a live act. I’m not faulting the effort, but there was no spark or charismatic blast that simply made you scream for more, more, more. And no defibrillater, either.
Still, I do love both “Surrender” and “Dream Police”. They are rave-ups and have clever lyrics (Mother told me, yes she told me / I’d meet girls like you / She also told me stay away / you’ll never know what you’ll catch). After all these years, those songs still work for me. Bitchin’ rock ‘n roll works here at BRP again and again. And again. So if you want to learn more about Cheap Trick, because they are worth knowing about, here’s the website link: http://www.cheaptrick.com/
Are we ready to move on to bigger and better things? Thankfully, yes, and I just so happen to have a pocketful of tickets for a bunch of other upcoming shows (and some boxing, too – hey, It’s Philly!). I’m also all over Spotify, wasting tons of time developing the perfect play list, like I’m the John Cusack character in High Fidelity. I’ll have plenty more to share in the upcoming days. But if I don’t see you before Thanksgiving, have a good holiday, rub the kids heads and pretend that you like them, and eat until you plop on the couch and “watch” football with your eyes closed and drool draining out of your mouth. And then get up and go see some live rock ‘n roll!
It's tough being a rocker of a certain age. Rockers don't live forever, and in fact, many die young. The latest to go is Malcolm Young of AC/DC. He was only 64. He died of dementia. Damn.
If you're a regular reader of BRP, you should know that I'm a huge AC/DC fan. AC/DC is the perfect rock band: unforgettable guitar riffs, great lyrics, signature vocals, and rock 'n roll attitude everywhere. They are in the Rock 'n Roll Hall of Fame, have sold over 100 million records and are the inspiration for tons of musicians.
I can't say that I'm a student of the band and know everything about their inner workings. I've read that Malcolm was a co-founder with brother Angus, and that he and Angus were the two creative forces responsible for their songs. I assume that is all true, and it's high praise. Their songs are iconic within the rock world.
I can say that as a fan of rock, it's a sad day to have Malcolm no longer with us. I know that people can't live forever. But at least the great rockers have recordings that they leave behind that allow us to continue to enjoy their legacy. Bon Scott died a long time ago, and AC/DC continued with Brian Johnson on the vocals. But now Brian can no longer sing, Malcolm is gone, and Angus is getting old. Bummer.
I've seen AC/DC a few times. I've seen AC/DC tribute bands. I've watched their videos. I've listened to their songs over and over, sometimes in my car at very high rates of speed. They are unforgettable within the world of rock. I don't know how they continue, but I'm glad that they existed.
I'm sad to see Malcolm gone. And I thank him for the songs that he left behind. I'll listen to them once again. I hope you do, too.
When it comes to live rock ‘n roll, I go for the music, the spectacle, the passion and the thrill. For me, when an artist combines great tunes, sonic punch and a rollicking stage act that is visually compelling, well, that’s a damn good night. Simply having a great front man can carry a band – think Rod Stewart with Faces, or David Lee Roth with Van Halen. Anyway, it happens and when it does, it’s magic. But it’s not easy.
Sure, there are plenty of bands with great songs but somewhat less than compelling live shows. You know, bands that basically just come out and play and seem to believe that is enough. I’m thinking bands I’ve seen over the years like Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers, The Cars, The Jayhawks, Squeeze, Teenage Fanclub, Bad Company, Collective Soul, Steely Dan, Elvis Costello, and many others. Don’t get me wrong – these are fine shows and I enjoyed them, but they weren’t the shows that you talk about years after. And I think most bands that give a shit fall into this category – good, not great, rock ‘n roll shows.
Then there are bands that come out and grab you by the throat and don’t let go all night, blowing you away with their stage presence or outrageousness, but that don’t have the catalog of songs to carry them to the highest levels. Ever see The Tubes, The Bravery or Foxy Shazam? If so, you know just what I’m talking about. Great stage shows, but less than great songs.
And then there are those that have both. Great songs and performances that entertain you to the hilt. Some do it with overwhelming passion, like the Clash, Springsteen, the Allman Brothers and the Who. Others do it with theatrical productions worthy of Broadway, such as the Rolling Stones, AC/DC, Queen, and Coldplay. There are great bar bands who feature charisma galore and confidently know that they are going to walk into the hall and just blow you away. NRBQ, the Bottle Rockets, The Darkness and Ash are examples that fit that bill. And then there are those bands that simply have it all: great entertainers, fantastic songs, rollicking crowds and stage presence galore. You know I’m talking Low Cut Connie, right?
But there are also bands that are just undefinable on stage. They are ahead of their times, doing something different, or breaking a mold that others will exploit for years afterwards. The Ramones. Iggy Pop. Bowie.
What to make of Protomartyr then? This is not your typical rock band and not your typical rock show. I’m not sure if they are great or not. I certainly think that their songs are unique. Punk and heavy metal soundtracks matched with lyrics that aren’t sung exactly. No, they are spoken word songs. Some bands do this for a living – basically writing poetry that is matched up with background music and the “singing” is an afterthought. Dylan, anyone? But Protomartyr is not poetry. These are song lyrics for sure. But because they aren’t really sung, they are sort-of given the poem-backed-by-music treatment except that the music is really, really good. And the song lyrics themselves? Sometimes they are just spoken and sometimes they evolve into chants of anger, sarcasm, despair or simple clear-eyed reality. And often, a particular key phrase is spoken over and over as the song cascades, shifting the meaning of the words and the emotions associated with them as the chant goes forward. Protomartyr is not for everyone.
Their show at Boot ‘n Saddle on a recent Friday night was typical. Boot ‘n Saddle is one of the more unique musical venues in Philly. It’s a two-roomed club, with a cheesy but somewhat fun western-themed bar up front full of hipsters, and then a “venue” behind a vault door in the back. The venue has no bar, no restrooms, no accoutrements of any kind. It is simply a rectangular room with a small stage up front. The stage is elevated about 2 feet off the ground. The room is about the width and maybe double the length of a typical suburban two-car garage. Sporting decent acoustics, it holds about 150 people, making it an intimate space that gives off the vibe of a basement. It’s kind of cool.
Most bands that are worth a damn play larger venues because they can make more money. The Boot is for up-and-coming or no-name bands trying to find an audience. And also for bands like Protomartyr who are talented but clearly not into this for commercial acclaim. I love bands like that – “yeah, if we make it, great, but if we don’t, that’s cool, too, because this really matters to us.” Don’t you wish you felt that way about you do for The Man every day?
Protomartyr has no roadies – they set up for themselves – and they don’t sport rock music typicals, like costumes, pyrotechnics, call-and-response-fist-pumping lyrics, or guitar heroes. But they are fantastic musicians making complicated and technically challenging music that is really well done, and then letting Joe Casey’s lyrics lie on top of that musical mass. I have to tell you that Alex Leonard, the drummer, is perhaps the best rock drummer I have seen all year. He is great – playing really complicated percussion rhythms and never missing a beat. He is unbelievably good.
Joe performs in a business suit sans the tie. He looks like a middle-aged insurance salesman or something, particularly when he is standing up on stage swigging the last of a can of beer and then looking at the crowd with his paunchy gaze. He is Everyman. Yet he’s not. Because he then snarls and spits out these chanting and challenging lyrics. He doesn’t sing them. He recites them, then turns them into mantras of emotions. I really like them, but I haven’t quite figured out why.
The crowd was what you would expect. A bunch of weirdos like me. Seriously. Who are these people? Why are there some dudes with closely cropped hair and huge beards, standing next to women with gray and blue streaks in their otherwise middle-aged hair styles, bumping up against regular looking male millenials who could have just put down the joystick on their Play Stations? Why were some of the women in skirts like it’s a sock-hop or something, while others are dressed all in black showing off cleavage like Elvira? An odd mix? Damn, right. And I think that all goes back to the band – who and what the hell are Protomartyr? What are they up to? And why do I see them whenever they come to town, dragging along some poor soul so that I’m not alone in my quest?
I don’t know where to put Protomartyr in my categories of rock shows. I clearly like them. I think they are on to something, but others may never grab the mantle and run with it. Maybe they are just too ahead of their time or maybe there will never be a time that adopts them. That happens in rock, too. Bands that are experimental sometimes start a movement, but more often, they fade away and remain cult classics, the musical equivalents of films like Zipperhead. Give Protomartyr a listen. Play them a few times. If you don’t like their gig, that’s cool, at least you were open-minded enough to try. If you like it, explain why to me so that you can help me figure it out.
Heidy ho, BRP readers. How about a few songs to warm you up on this chilly Saturday?
Let's start with LCD Soundsystem. This band is coming to Philly for three, yes, three, sold out nights at the Fillmore. I'll be there for one of them, and I'm really looking forward to it. There will be plenty of dancing and grooving when LCD S is on stage. Ready to hear something? OK, one of my favorites is North American Scum. Here we go:
Here's another very cool band - The Exploding Hearts. Formed in Portland, Oregon in 2001, the band ceased to exist after three of its members were killed in a car accident in 2003. That's tragic and so very unfortunate. But through the magic of recorded music, the guys live on. I love the song Throwaway Style and think you'll dig it, too.
Do you want to keep rocking? I sure hope so. How about Tyler Bryant & The Shakedown? These guys harken back to the days of classic rock, and along with the Struts and Greta Van Fleet, were recently written up in the Wall Street Journal. Check out this tune, called Loaded Dice and Buried Money. They don't make rock like this anymore ... not!
I'm not the biggest jam band fan out there, but I do like Phish. I also like this song by O.A.R. It's called Hey Girl and it's catchy, the lyrics are simple but fun, and once you hear it, you have a hard time getting it out of your head. I like the horns!
One more? Well, fine, but just because you asked. If you want something catchy, and a weird video, I have just the thing. Fall Out Boy's Sugar We're Goin' Down has a very odd video featuring a young dude with antlers. I know, what the hell, right? Anyway, listen to the song and enjoy.
I've got to split now. Please don't weep - I'll be back shortly. And hey, there's a ton of archived stuff for you to check out! I'm still working on the Protomartyr write up, and Cheap Trick is coming to town this week, woot woot! I have lots of shows coming up and I'll be sure to inform you of my antics. Check back often as I'm trying to get back into the groove. Stay warm, start getting fired up for the best holiday of all - Thanksgiving - and have so much fun that you can't stand it.
Hey all, you remember this one don't you? Without any research whatsoever, I simply take a band's name and give my thumbs up or down on the name. Are you ready for some more of this action? Good, because here we go again.
Jethro Tull – For those of you that put your albums or CDs in alphabetical order, do you file this under J for Jethro or T for Tull? I decided that since it’s not a real person’s name, you go with J. But it’s questions like this that vex the normally drug-fueled brain of a rocker, and that make you curse these guys for making you freakin’ THINK. Odd name, forgotten band among the classic rockers, and that’s a damn shame.
The Doobie Brothers – Perhaps this is what the Dead should have named themselves. Naming a band after reefer is part of the rock glorification of drugs, an unfortunate but central part of the rock world. I would have used this name when I was 15, too.
Dinosaur Jr. – rotten name. What, are they Barney’s younger brother? I like them, but fellas, seriously?
Pearl Jam – oh, that Eddy Vedder is so funny! Named after his spunk. I guess he rejected jizz, wad, and cum as band names because they weren’t clever enough. I can’t take the pretentious buttwipe himself, but they had some pretty rockin’ albums early on.
The New Pornographers – Is this one of the worst band names ever or what? Why not name themselves something like “Post-Larry Flynt” or something. And the band has a number of women in it, including the incomparable Neco Case. Me don’t understand. But they are a band worth acquainting yourself with nonetheless.
The dBs – the abbreviation for decibels is a pretty good name for a loud rock band. I’m giving it a thumbs up, just like I do for the band itself.
The Dead Milkmen and Death Cab For Cutie – awful, terrible, stupid names. DCFC is actually a damn good band saddled with a crappy name. I think it’s cost them commercial success. It’s not as bad as And You Will Know Us By The Trail of Dead, F*cked Up or Pissed Jeans, all bands that threw commercial success to the wind right from the start just with their names. The Dead Milkmen is what stupid teenagers from Philly name their one-hit wonder of a rock band.
Whiskeytown – Why not name themselves “Blacksburg” instead? Oh, then the band’s name would actually be Beertown? I like the name as alcohol abuse is a national obsession, even among my friends who tell me new alcohol stories every week which are followed by “but I don’t really drink that much.” And Ryan Adams is prolific, having written 50% of all songs published since 1990, and he needed a few band names to perform under. And this one was better than the Cardinals.
OK, my non-drinking, non-doping friends. It's off to enjoy a beautiful day in November. You take care and check back with me soon. I've been working on a review of the recent Protomartyr show, and it's a doozie. I'll post it shortly. In the meantime, put on the headphones but forget to turn off the main speakers and let the whole house rock in glory.
I wrote these tidbits in August, when things are slow at BRP. But then all hell broke loose as The Man tore me up. The Damn Insatiable Man! I haven’t been able to get this posted, and like any work of art (at least of the Velvet Elvis variety, the visual art equivalent of BRP), I keep tinkering with this as it sits on my computer. In order to get this posted as November kicks in and the Fall brings its cool, crisp days and lots and lots of concerts and football, here are some idiotic thoughts to keep you occupied.
I saw this on a car, and recognized that it was from Massachusetts right away. No one south of Rhode Island uses the word “wicked” outside of references to The Wizard of Oz. I didn’t know whether a “wicked pissah” is good or bad, and did some research. I have found out that “wicked pissah” is actually a good thing – according to the font of all truth in the world, Wikipedia, it means something that is akin to “great” either realistically or sarcastically. So it would be an appropriate use of the phrase to say that BRP itself is wicked pissah, either realistically (I hope) or sarcastically (I fear).
Now this is truly a foot stool, right? Isn’t that basically the most awful piece of furniture you have ever seen? I use horrible men’s taste in all my decorating, but even this one crossed the line for me. And do you know why? Nike! I’m just not a Nike guy. But if they had this in Reebok….
Now this little triptych was seen at a Mexican restaurant in Port Angeles, Washington. You have to go left to right to get the combination just right – and you may have to blow up the picture a bit to see it all. It’s pure artistry, whether intended or not, so take your time and study this closely. Ready? Ok, on the left is an Aztec warrior-type holding a woman with remarkably large breasts. He appears to have looked down at her and then glanced up and said “oh, Jesus.” Move on to the second picture, and lo and behold, there is Jesus! Right there watching the whole thing. Aztec boy is caught in mid-lust! He feels guilty about this, and he needs something to take off the edge. Thus, on to item 3. How about grabbing that Corona on the right? You know, the one being held by the parrot? Ahhh, that’s better. I think I saw this same triptych over an altar in Florence, Italy. Or maybe in the basement of a frat house in Virginia? This is all funny as hell to me.
BRP is everywhere! Here is a corkboard inside of a restaurant in Portland, Oregon with the BRP card right there! It’s amazing how it got there, don’t you think? But not as amazing as Portland itself. When you leave Portland, you go through beard/tattoo/scarification/piercing withdrawal that lasts about 15 seconds.
Here’s what happens when you don’t read BRP or don’t acknowledge it. It’s truly useful in everyday life! Where else can you learn about the meaning of wicked pissah or see Mexican restaurant triptychs? You need to come back often or suffer the “listing” consequences.
I’m going to get Einstein after you if you don’t watch out – he would have been a reader of BRP. How do I know? Because above is a long lost picture of my relativity man.
What has the invention of the cell phone camera done? We see videos of everything now, but mysteriously, nothing of Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster. Hmmm, makes you wonder, right? Still, there are those that continue to believe. Me? Like Graham Parker, I’m waiting on the UFOs.
Want to see the greatest tourist attraction of all time? Just below Pike Place Market in Seattle, it’s the famous gum wall! Yes, you too can chew gum and stick it onto the wall as a decoration. Pull it and make it look drippy, or just stick a big wad right there. It’s actually not one wall, but three, and it covers an entire alley – both sides of one passage and then another wall going up the hill. It’s interesting in a gross way. And if you think about it enough, puke will go up and down your throat. Isn’t that neat?
The Canadian response to the gum wall? Vancouver has a concrete plant right in the tourist mecca of Granville Island, so they dressed up the slag silos as art. I think they did it pretty well, too. Agreed?
Hillbillies aren’t confined to Appalachia. Want to watch the local American Legion baseball team in style and comfort? How about on a couch or La-Z-Boy? Hmmm, well in West Virginia, they burn those puppies after a big game.
I think that’s enough of the silly and absurd for now. But I’ll find more and put them on BRP for my amusement. As always, thanks for reading and coming back again and again. It’s really fun for me to do this, and really humbling that anyone other than me would want to read it. I’m honored that you’ve chosen to spend some of your valuable time checking out the blog. Here’s a great big BRP thanks to all of you, and be thankful that this blog doesn’t come with a scratch ‘n sniff card!
My name is Bill, and I live in the greater Philadelphia area. I love music, and I have a lot of opinions. This site is primarily focused on music, but sometimes I get off track. I hope you enjoy.