Making Peace

So Wednesday was another Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers show. I didn't blog about it yesterday because I was slightly "under the weather". Some idiot decided to buy a last call round of tequila shots, and I woke up feeling a little puny. (Remind me not to go out with that girl again.) So of course the day when I'd rather stare into the mid-distance ends up being the busiest day of the week. Damn you Jose Cuervo!

So anyway, though my memories of the show are a little blurry, sort of a pleasant soft focus, it was the usual good time had by all. And I've more or less decided that Nada isn't just my favorite Roger Clyne song, it's my favorite song. Ever. And yes, another RCPM show. And no the band hasn't taken out a stalking restraining order on me. In the world of Peacemakers fans, I'm actually pretty low-level. There were people there who drove in from Austin and Oklahoma. On a Wednesday night! That's love, man.

I do have a sharper memory of the warm-up band, Garble-Garble-Blah-Blah. Somebody should tell the lead singer that while it can be considered a certain kind of vocal style to slur the words to all your songs (not my taste, but whatever), you should always say the name of your band clearly should anyone (again, not me) want to find one of your miserable, tuneless little albums. The lead singer looked like a young Gordon Ramsay (which might have been my taste if it weren't for the mush-mouthed thing). The drummer looked like he came to the gig from his Hebrew school class. My friend Hawkeye would call him a crime against drummer-hood. Talk about born to be mild. Then they had a guy that either looked like an extra from Deliverance, or possibly the safe cracker from a French heist film, who played heavy metal banjo and punk accordian. He was wailing on that banjo. Freals. The other two guys who played guitar were virtually indistinguishable, except for the fact that one sucked and the other deserved to be in a much better band. Every song they played was like the bad track on album that you like, but don't that one song hate enough to get up and push the forward button on the stereo. I kept thinking they must have a better song. Nope.

But I made it past their general suck-wha set, and enjoyed every second of RCPM. And it re-affirmed for me my committment to maintaining radio silence on a band before a show. I'd stopped all Peacemakers tunes on my iPod the traditional week before the show. So it was like my ears were re-virginized. Can't wait for the next show.