Rock & Roll Wifestyle goes all Society column on ya

Well hello my little Junebugs!

And haven’t we had a busy spring now darlings? Well, from settling into our darling little pied-a-terre here in the quaintest little town, to taking a quick jaunt to The Big Apple, we have just been busy as bees. Do have a listen while I regale you with tales from a most faboo month, won’t you? Swell.

Yours truly had a marvelous weekend adventure in upstate New York, reuniting with two of my dear school chums, Ms Sullivan & Ms Connerney, discussing life and love and the like. The stars were kind enough to align for a design gal like myself, and I was fortunate enough to take a personal tour of Russel Wright’s Dragon Rock homestead, which was just fascinating in its mid-century modern mindset. An opportunity like this is just too too much, but you only go ‘round once, I say, so live a little.

Alas, while I sat in front of a roaring fire with the ladies, drinking fine wine and eating imported chocolates and cheeses (courtesy of Mme Connerney’s beau du jour from Gay Paree, who keeps her larder stocked in the most delish assortment of nibbles) it just tore at my heart to think that that my poor dear CH was relegated to a weekend of debauchery in Dewey Beach. Somehow the poor dear made it through the entire pop fest weekend without me, the brave soul.

I am still not sure how he could survive without my innocuous yet constant inquiries as to what time we would be leaving as it was getting very late, and did he really did need that third or fourth shot of Jaeger/next beer/slice from Grotto? Who would be there to warn him of just how awful he would feel in the morning if he kept acting like that? How was he to know when it was too late or that he was spending too much money or being too loud and boisterous?

Thank heavens he was under the watchful eye of those steady fellas The Jellybricks, who even invited him to sleep in their hotel room so he would not be lonely without his lil’ trouble and strife. It was not their fault he did not realize that five in the morning is just too late to get pizza from Grottos, even if you are willing to pick it up. Poor dear.

Not a moment after my return from the Hudson Valley we whisked ourselves down Route 76, towards The City of Brotherly Love, Philadelphia. We had advance reservations for a production at the Theatre of the Living Arts, seeing New York City’s chanteuse led loungepop trio Ivy, as well as some lesser knowns, Stars and Astaire.

Despite my attempts to suggest the best way to maneuver our vehicle in city traffic, we unfortunately missed all but one song from Astaire, and had to console ourselves with a cocktail or three. On the brighter side of the coin, we bumped into some friends from Dear Old Delaware as we got our libations and our mood lightened considerably with fond reminiscences of squandered hours at the workplace and our mutual distain for those in upper management. Soon enough the musicians struck up the band, and we had a marvelous evening of suave and sophisticated entertainment, as is our custom.

As I know you know all too well, daytime lives can be mundane at best, so I will not bore you with the dreariness of job hunting or the monotony of dog walking. Instead, come closer and I will share with you the juicy morsel that we discovered the most endearing little band performing at the Tin Angel Club,just scant days after our evening with Ivy.

CH is such a colossal sweetie for indulging me (for the second time in a week, yet) in my penchant for 60’s-influenced-twee-pop-sung-by-a-non-native-English-speaking-girl, preferably reminiscent of Astrud Gilberto during her all too short stint with the Stan Getz Trio. A gal knows she is lucky when her man is willing to sit through a production so noticeably lacking in testosterone. I am one grateful gal in that respect, as the Mosquitos from New York City are my latest guilty pleasure.

Who could resist their infectious melodies and sunshiney singalong bits? I could not even blame CH for looking twice or three times at the adorable singer Juju, who I also found to be very easy on the eyes. With her short cropped hair and snifter of cognac, twirling around in her frilly dress, she was the picture of pop sexy. Oh my- did I just use the S word to describe one of my own feminine gender? Blame it on the bossa nova!

Now, you sweet peas know that I only share in the highlights of hubby’s ever escalating career in the name of journalismo, no? Bragging? Never! Showy-Offy? Pish! Only with that notion swept clear from your mind will I report to you in even and measured tones that our local boy, Delaware’s kindest and finest, my sweet baboo, has been revealed to a wider audience with a glowing report of his musical activities appearing hot off the presses of non other than THE Billboard Magazine.

Yes! The Billboard, the one with the number one with a bullet charts and all. That Billboard! If you look closely at this ish of the Bystander you may come across a mention of it, but we’ll just let you find it for yourselves. No need to appear boastful now- though between you, me and the lamp post, mummy and daddy are awfully impressed with this one!

It would only make sense to wrap up this account of our magical musical month with a mention of the evening we spent in that marvelous metropolis, our home away from home, Gotham City itself. During this visit we were delighted to be the guests of honor at a special show at a darling little speakeasy known as The Cutting Room. Rumour has it that the owner is some sort of television personality, but as we are more apt to listen to the radio these days, his star quality was muted to us. I did my best to be a gracious hostess as I greeted and chatted with a steady stream of well wishers -reliable and wonderful L & P, Chris from DC, even a surprise appearance from fellow music makers and folks we only know via email Even friends from CH’s youthful days playing guitar at the beach came out to support.

I am sure the promoters and industry types were nothing less than impressed at such a big, magnificent sound coming out my darling bunch of boys. Per usual it was over before it began, in my humble opinion. Photos were snapped for publication, hands were shaken, and we left the venue with an open invitation for the band to perform there whenever they are in town, which I hope to be often. After a tasty meal compliments of CH’s backers at one of the city’s snappy new eateries, it was too soon that we had to turn the towncar south and head back home.

And there you have it my peach blossoms, just another day in the life of an average Jane trying to help her John as he ascends the ladder of success. See you on the next rung! Toodles!

Voila! Mike Viola

 All you ever wanted to know about the creative force behind the band Candy Butchers is covered in their latest release Hang On Mike. The Mike in the title is Mike Viola, (but it could also refer to the other two Mikes in the band, guitarist Mike Gent or drummer Mike Benigno). Each of the twelve songs on this, their third album, is a peek into the life and mindset of Viola. Far from being navel gazing and narcissistic, Viola sings of moments and feelings that, while specific to his own sitation, have universal resonance.

Pop minded folks might recognize Viola as the voice behind the title song from “That Thing You Do”, but he is far from a one hit Oneder. His history is revealed during many of the songs, from his “Superkid” start as a child rock prodigy, to highschool and beyond band member with original Candy Butcher drummer Todd Foulsham (see Kiss Alive II). If you had doubts about where he grew up, his Boston accent comes in handy when they “partied hard and they parted ways” in the disc’s opening track, What To Do With Michael. A catchy ditty, it tells the tale of new love where Viola admits that he is so smitten with his new mate that he even goes to the gym.

Whether accompanied by the other members of the band (Pete Donnelly from The Figgs and Jed Parish) or singing solo at the piano, Viola leads us through his ups and downs and makes them our own.

The tragic story of his first wife succumbing to cancer is handled with grace and honor in “Painkillers”.”In a field of rusty wire/ the wind sings harmony” from Charlie illustrates delicately that there is beauty to be found even in the ugliness of the world.While all of the songs are introspective, some are handled lightly and with a sense of humor. “Lets Have a Baby” is a fun singalong romp -“Sadie Chloe Sammy or Max-imilian” “Not So Bad At All” gives props to the power of friends “…I’m psyched to see you now/Lately I’ve been down/But when we hang around/It’s not so bad at all”.

Hang On Mike reveals the understanding that the definition of success changes as our lives evolve. While Candy Butchers may not be packing them in at the Cape Cod Coliseum like the SuperKid once dreamed, Viola recognizes the small victories in life can sometimes be the most satisfying. When he is onstage and the crowd is singing with him/ to him to “Hang On Mike, if there’s one thing you’re good for its holding on” it is not really an ego stroke, but heartfelt encouragement that we all could use in our own lives. In that way, we are ALL Mike, and we all need to Hang On.

Elktones! Meet the Elktones!

(sung to the tune of the Flintstones theme…)

Elktones! Meet the Elktones!
They’re an instrumental kind of group/
From the town of Newark-
Read below and you will get the scoop!

If you think the best part of Pulp Fiction is hearing Miserlou run over the opening credits, then the Elktones are for you. If you are tired of all the sucka-emcees and wish they would stop running at the mouth and play some music, then the Elktones are for you. If you just want to know what “a cheese steak soaked in alcohol, set on fire and thrown in a chipper/shredder” sounds like, then the Elktones are the band for you.

The Elktones (Tom Dougherty, Jeff Green, Ken Herblin & Jacque Varsalona) are tearing it up and winning over “herds” of folks with their self described brand of “Psychidelisurferbilly” instrumental rock. Yes, thats right- instrumental. ALL instrumental. Lucky for you it is more the surf-guitar-god-Dick-Dale school of instrumental than Longine-Symphonette style.

Formed just over a year ago, all of the members of the E-tones have had experience playing with “bands with singers”. Their individual interests in bands such as The Reverend Horton Heat, Link Wray, The Ventures, Lake Trout and Phish got them jamming together. Their collective affinity for heavier bands like Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath got these 3 kats and a kitten truly rocking together.

After a few months jamming & rocking and some well received shows under their collective belt, the ‘Tones knew they had something going on and wasted no time in getting into the studio. They wanted to capture their dynamic live sound as authentically as possible, so they did it old school: all tracks recorded live to 2″ tape in a marathon overnight session, (with local recording pro Cliff Hillis).

The finished product is a CD simply titled ELKTONES. Pop this baby into your car player and the next thing you know your commute will be a bit cooler. Your life suddenly has a soundtrack. Road signs will whiz by in time to the music. Cloverleaf curves seem a bit more dangerous. You will saunter into work like John Travolta or Uma Thurman (your choice).

Can’t wait? Check out http://www.elktones.com. Join the Elkherd. Numbering in the hundreds, this group gets to know the insider skinny about gigs and free stuff. Or you can support your local music retailer and pick up their CD at Bert’s in Newark.

Better yet- check out the Elktones when they play their home base, The East End Cafe on Friday 11/14. Details at http://www.elktones.com, baby.

Welcome Interstate Managers- Fountains of Wayne

 Disclaimer- this really cannot be an unbiased review of the latest album from Fountains of Wayne, as I am a big fan of theirs. This could be a good thing in a way, since if the album was a stinker I would be writing about how disappointed I was with it, and how much better their debut album was (Fountains of Wayne) and how the follow up from that (Utopia Parkway) totally became the soundtrack to my life when it was released. I would not be totally off base in those assessments either and if you really want I can probably round up a healthy amount of critical acclaim for the band and all of their albums. That said, here is my “review”.

Welcome Interstate Managers is the third album from one of my favorite bands (oops, did I say that?) Fountains of Wayne. For those of you who do not know about FOW (oh, the joy you have been missing!) the band is comprised of Adam Schlesinger (aka one of the hardest working men in pop, with things like, oh writing the theme to the movie That Thing You Do, being in another of my fave bands Ivy, and producing a great album by David Mead among others- if you don’t know David Mead go buy one of his albums too!) Chris Collingwood- he ain’t no schlump either, and for that matter Jody Porter and Brian Young are pretty swell guys too. So there are 4 guys in the band, with Schelsinger and Collingwood (who met in college) writing the bulk (aka all) of the material.

OK, so what do they sound like, you, who have not heard them (horrors!) ask. Well, I guess I will have to drag out the old warhorse and label FOW with the double P, in other words, Power Pop. Think catchy melodies and harmonies that you will find yourself singing along to, think clever yet insightful lyrics, and on this album think The Cars, Oasis, The Byrds, Billy Bragg, The Kinks, Teenage Fanclub, someone from the Country music department. Heck some folks are claiming a Billy Joel influence, but all I can think of to support that is Long Island. I do have a ‘lil piece about how “Fountains of Wayne are so not Hip-Hop”- buy me a drink and I may entertain you with that.

This album clocks in at almost an hour-55 minutes, 16 songs- A lot of ground to cover. Don’t worry, I won’t go through each song with a lice comb, gotta leave some things for you to discover on your own. “Mexican Wine” kicks off the album and is a good FOW primer- there are the irreverent lyrics, the pop to rock and back again, the silly chorus you find yourself singing along to regardless, and of course the establishment of alcohol as a primary motif in over half of the songs on the album.

If you have gotten this far in reading what I am writing and are thinking that FOW may not be the band for you, may I recommend picking up a copy of this album anyway- to use as an entertaining drinking game? A shot every time drinking or alcohol is mentioned or referenced to will make any party interesting almost immediately. For alternate rules, a shot every time a song makes mention of New York City or anything NYC/NJ/LI related.

One of the the other common themes in the lyrics of FOW is the hapless sometimes alcoholic careerist, wondering how the hell he got where he is and the hope that he will get off the gerbil wheel one day and get his shit together, as they say. This guy crops up in the songs “Bright Future in Sales”- (my fave of the trilogy), “Little Red Light” and “Hey Julie”. I can’t help but think that during the guitar solo in “Bright Future…” that there will be some office guy with his necktie as a headband jumping atop his desk in a cube and playing air guitar like he really means it.

Lest you think that that is what the band is all about, here is a mention of the radio single “Stacy’s Mom” Now I cannot really see anyone writing an homage to my mum like this, however if someone’s mom looked like Rachel Hunter (who is featured in the video for this tune) I could understand the motivation. One of the more silly songs in their catalog IMHO, it begins with a Cars-ian Best Friends Girl vibe and is catchy enough to be a hit for regular commercial radio (fingers crossed). Just pretend that it is a bunch of early 20-somethings in a punkpop band singing this paean to a yummy mommy and not some guys in their early thirties and it will go down easier.

So I have gotten this far and have not even talked about the songs that I really like, the songs that belie these easily digested morsels. “Hackensack” is a touching and somewhat haunting sketch of a townie who dreams of the girl who moved away and made it big. “Valley Winter Song” is an endearing listen, a mid-tempo acoustic guitar driven song that you just KNOW was written to cheer up a girlfriend/wife with a severe case of Seasonal Affective Disorder and a side of homesick “why did I move to Western Mass from the big apple?”-itis. Songs like this and ironically the arena-rock worthy “Bought For a Song” transcend the typical FOW approach of writing from the POV of a fictitious 3^rd person and sound like they are coming directly from the songwriter himself. “Yours and Mine” fits in here too, showcasing a refreshing bit of -dare I say- maturity- in the songwriting. And its not a bad thing!

For those of you who are familiar with 1999’s Utopia Parkway, the kids who were swaying to the strains of “Prom Theme” can be seen partying it up in someone’s back yard when the parents are on “Fire Island”. The cynical characterization of “Go Hippie” has been revisited and reassess as the more hippy/dippy vibe of “Peace & Love” (is this where people got the Billy Joel reference?)

What? Put down the drink and step slowly from the keyboard? Shut off the CD player? Of course I know how late it is! But I have not even mentioned the lush Burt Bacharach orchestration of “Halley’s Waitress” or how “Supercollider” is so totally an Oasis song! But- James Iha! Jen Trynin!! but,but,…!…..damn. OK one more thing—FOW play live with Ben Lee at the Troc in Philly on Saturday July 12!!!!!!!!

xxoo-groupiegal