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Love For Sale

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My darlin' on the wrong coast was sweet enough to hold her cell phone to the speakers as The Blasters played "Shakin'" live in L.A. Reach out and rock someone. The Blasters are back, baby.

            It was all classic corduroy and sideburns as Thee Shams, from Cincinnati, wailed a la The Kinks at the Bug Jar last Thursday, along with Chicago's sonically piercing The Cells. Also on the bill were Rochester nice boys/slicksters The Hi-Risers, who closed with an awesome, dueling-drum-tempo tantrum called "Bigfoot."

            Spent last weekend in the Speedball Baby Studio in NYC watching an incredible, new, rockabilly/heavy-country outfit, Unknown Soldier, get their groove on with guitar, bass, drums, small artillery, and vocals with equal doses of lonely, dangerous, and mean.

            Please, children: Don't let fast food take your soul. Booger King, Taco Hell, and the folks beneath the golden crotches want you fat and stupid. Go to Aunt Judy's on Portland Ave. and feed your face. You may put on a few pounds, but at least now you'll be going to Heaven. Pop the new Johnny Cash in the dash on your way over.

            And speaking of stupid, howsabout these new Molson bottles with "twin label technology." Insipid little catch phrases --- "I see dumb people," "Help me christen my hot tub," "I'm not wearing underwear" --- are printed on them to initiate even more desperate barroom drivel. Look, if you don't know how to hit on girls properly, then maybe you should just go home and reprimand your primate.

            Love for sale. Good news for all you strike-out kings: the hookers are back on Monroe Ave. They look a little worn out and have apparently adopted a flannel-and-stonewashed-denim aesthetic. But hey, crack ain't cheap and beggars can't be choosers.

            On a brighter note; rock 'n' roll club guru, Casz (James Comunale) is out of his coma and talkin' trash. He has been moved to St. Mary's and visitors are encouraged.

            Canadian rocker Bif Naked was powerful and aggressive as hell opening up the multi-band bill at Water Street last Tuesday. The remaining bands, Good Charlotte, The Halo Friendlies, and Homegrown, whipped the capacity throng into a frenzy. It's encouraging to see kids so devoted to these relatively underground groups. The problem is, these bands all sound exactly the same and offer pretty much the same stage show. I got a little bored and spent the rest of the evening hitting on the moms in back while they sipped sodas, waiting for their little darlings to emerge from the mosh pit.

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