>>> How crazy is it that it’s a Friday night in Philly in 2006, and the only show we’re even thinking about going to is Ratdog with Bob Weir at the Electric Factory? I mean, it’s not like we’d actually go to the show, more just like hang in the parking lot, spend crisp fives on nitrous balloons and hopefully bed down some wayyyyyyy-late-to-the-party 23-year-old “hippies,” but still. This is something to take notice of. Bands and DJs, please remember: Friday night is a sweet lady. And you must treat her like one.
>>> Mates of State are annoying as fuck, and they’re sold out, anyway.
>>> 12th Air Command celebrates its tenth birthday! OMG.
>>> Back in the day, Monica the Babysitter would come over on Friday nights, we’d eat the Mama Celeste cardboard pizza and listen to crazy ’80s punk rock radio. I still contend that the discovery of music and its subsequent enjoyment never got more simple and sublime than this. Should you find yourself marooned at home (flu, herpes outbreak, house arrest, whatever) we HIGHLY recommend Robert Drake’s “Land Of The Lost” from 7-11pm on WXPN. Drake was there, man, and he’s sure to drop some evil gems prolly not heard since the heyday of this guy.
>>> Oh hell, why not: Billy Bragg at the Keswick. Rep it old school. But not that old school. Do whatever you can to avoid Jill Sobule. She’s like Lisa Loeb without a TV show or even all those skanky JAP-y friends.
>>> The Books: Also making us ashamed to be white. Also sold out!
>>> We were so close to relief, but no: R. Kelly at the Tower is sold out, too. Ummmm, RATDOG again, anyone?
>>> Phew! Finally! Something not totally stupid! The Magic Numbers at The TLA. Round it out with the last Silk City stand for Jaiko Suzuki’s Mon Mon Mon Amour and consider your new dumb weekend rescued.
>>> Arctic Monkeys and Spinto Band: You wish, Cornholio! Sizzold izzout!
>>> Good God, just let it be over already. It’s like we live in Red Bank or something. I can’t fucking take it.