Volume 23 - Spring 2018

1 2 3, on your marks, get set, DIE!!!

Welcome to yet another set of swinging, banging, and clanging instrumentals to dig as the Earth heads towards its demise--as we all dig our graves. I collected this set rather quickly, finishing it up a lot sooner than expected. I've been busy though, kinda in a last-days-hedonism phase for the past several weeks. Fortunately, this spat of time has allowed tracks on volume 24 to add up, which is just around the corner.

I'm going to dispense with any preliminary mumbo jumbo and off-the-bat declare the Sidemen Band Name of the Month contest winner, which is from the lead off track: The Wheels (with Rolls Royce) doing a number called 1 2 Many. We've all been there haven't we? Just perhaps not at the start of the party. Nonetheless, global catastrophe is nigh so, bottoms up!

You all know Baghdad Rock by the Sheikh's from Jungle Exotica, but do you know Part 2 even existed? I didn't. So, one more chapter to close. At least as far as two-part instrumental craziness goes. Allah Akbar, you infidels!

Blue Blazer is another fun tune to follow the jihadists. It reminds me of Danger is My Beer by the fantastic Reverend Fred Lane. While the Reverend’s instrumental is from the 70's or 80's, this tune also carries some of that generic crime theme, rolling tempo sound. You picture underneath that blue blazer is a .38 ready to be swiftly clutched by your sweaty palm and discharged to vanquish the Communist spy that's been on your tail for a fort-nite. The fact that the artist is unknown adds to the unsolved mystery of your end.
[side note: If any segment of you likes Fred Lane, be sure and catch up with his other (mostly) vocal and instro work. Buy the Shimmy Discs if you can. He's like the bastard cousin of Frank Sinatra & Sun Ra. Great stuff indeed-o!]

Oh Lord, what can be said about Dangerous Lips by The Drivers! The peril and pain, with intense longing for a connection of two moist slabs of flesh despite the inevitable outcome of pain, is an apt metaphor of my life--our lives, dear reader--of this tragic story we all live today.

The Pride of D-Boys

If you're not listening listening closely enough you may miss the quiet beauty and moodiness of Moon Over Harlan Kentucky. Not Harlem, New York. We're talkin' Bluegrass Country. And don't ask me why the song is performed by The Pride of Detroit. Maybe the dudes in Motor City were dreaming of another place that's not involving a internal combustion engine, nor contributing to greenhouse gases.

Francis is thinking, "I smell damp fur."

Speaking of ecology, the next song to follow, Nature Boy is one of my favorite songs for many reasons. One: the freak that penned this song was most certainly an anomaly from the 1940s. Eden Ahbez was the proto-hippie long before there ever was a psychedelic gleam in the eye of Tim Leary. Second: Nature Boy was covered by countless people during the mid-twentieth century. From Exotica stalwarts to John Coltrane--one of the greatest blowers that ever lived and died too young. Finally: the song touches my corazón, because I'm a tree huggin’-son-of-hippie parents, and a believer in the one thing that could probably save this godforsaken rock: L-O-V-E.

Onto more morbidity. Lenny Davis gives us another installment of devil-themed songs. We’ve had a few recently entries. Satan’s Got You (By the Hand) is, in actuality, not so great. It’s just a mediocre love-lost song. I honestly threw it in here because, you know, Satan. [Insert joke how Mr. Fallen Angel has us all by the cojones.]

Rye & a Nat Sherman for my last meal.

The Night People close us out with Zazerac. This is a rye whiskey cocktail (often spelled Sazerac). I guess this is their version of Tequila, with a random Joe calling out the name, after the break. A little pouring sound and hiccup effects can never hurt.


Clink here to the end of ends!

Volume 22 - Winter 2018

May Your Year be bitter-ful!

Happy and hellish New Year to everyone! I have managed to cull a new set of tunes to begin another year headed toward doom. For whom do these tunes toll?

I am slightly sad to report that there aren't really any glorious gems in this set (with two exceptions). Let's hope that it doesn't portend for a rotten or uneventful 2018. In some ways, maybe we don't want an eventful 2018. 

Let's start right off with the query, Am I Worth It? Is anything worth it? Is the world worthy of saving? The Gimmicks seem to have their answer, in a 12 bar blues format. It's a good starter for this volume, because there are many, many more songs in this set that are blues-based. It gets a little monotonous I know, but hang in there. If you made it though last year, you'll likely make it to 2019. At any rate, Catwalk is another good number even with a guitar twang that never really seems to go anywhere. But, it passes the time.

Voted Most Likely to Be Satanic

I must touch upon Conquer by Ronnie and The Red Caps. Again, not the most unique song but it has a marked intensity. And of course we have to mention that we're talking Ronnie James Dio here. The late, dead, the never coming back, former front man of Black Sabbath. Mr. Padavona may return from the beyond later on. Pay attention!


At some point I will stop apologizing for the mediocrity. Nonetheless, I want to highlight another so-so tune called Four O'clock by The Van-Dells. Aside from being moderately generic, it is notable for the fact that it was recorded near my old college dumping grounds in Camden, New Jersey. Yes, Admiral Wilson Boulevard has been around for a long time and this acetate from the early sixties predates me by about a decade. The Doomsday Clock has moved far from 4pm, ever closer to midnight since those early days.

I wish The Sneaky Pete's had a side band so I could instantaneously crown them the winner for this month contest. Alas, it's just a bunch of guys named Pete. The fantastic Gila Monster Crawl is anything but mediocre. Picture a suave, emerald creature within the depths of Lake Tahoe, arising to his feet to get his woman and do the Twist in the most awkward fashion. Think of the sorrowful sounds of the theremin as the creature's ineptitude and self-consciousness for being a foreigner in a hostile land. The military's coming to whoop his green ass!

The lively number, Party at Vern’s Place was recorded in Berkeley, CA. Vern's place is somewhere in the Berkeley Hills, in the East San Fran Bay Area. Nowadays, Vern is a venture capitalist driving around in his electric Tesla, practicing his survivalist skills. When the shit hits the fan we'll all be coming for you, Vern! 

Vern, honey, where's the Pappy stashed?

Pedro's Shimmy is a crunchy, rockin' number. Good to have a little bit of a Latin flavor in the mix. And while we're at it, why don't we give The Neptunes the crown for the Sidemen Band Name of the Month Contest. Bob is a little bit nervous with ideas that Pedro's shimmy is actually preliminary defensive maneuvers of the rising minority taking over our jobs. What Bob doesn't realize is that the biggest threat to his Caucasian existence is the orange guy in the White House.

and it hurts like...

I think Steve King gives Skip Manning a run for his money when it comes to songs about diabolical dames on Satan is Her Name. First, it's cool, and it is a song about broken hearts and Beelzebub. Second of all, I don't know how I've lived these last 25 years delving into music of the '50s and '60s and have not come across this dark jewel!

Screaming Pt. 1 is 95 seconds of how I feel every time I think about the next 1 to 100 years. Nothing more to say there. Yet, speaking of screeching, The Shin-Diggers' version of The Mummy Walk sure has a mad crowd, like the mop tops are on stage wrapped in toilet paper, driving the girls insane.

So, we end with another diddy arguably about the dark one. Well, in this case we have the privilege of hearing the pipes of Ronnie James Dio again, this time waiting for his lady to come home. It might as well be a teener for the Unspeakable One, as he'd be singing such fare in a decade-or-so's time. Listen for the bell at the end of the song, because it tolls for thee and me.

Hail Him or Her Here!

Volume 21 - Fall 2017

Welcome to another batch of instros, heart-diseased vocals, and otherworldly, other-era-y music to take you away from the pits of darkness outside your door--if only for about the length of thirty songs.

If you were paying attention, this set is dated Fall 2017, which means these posts have finally caught up to my activity of culling tunes from the digital landscapes across the soon-to-be practically dead planet. As Mr. Anka wails, we'll be Crying in the Wind, but these are now category 5 hurricane gusts we're talking about.

Boo hoo!

If you are confused about why my catching up is important, go back to the beginning of these posts. What this really means is that my monthly missives will no longer be monthly. I'll release all subsequent volumes as they are completed. If this lousy world ends before the next set is done, don't say I didn't warn you it wasn't coming! Besides, these past 21 volumes contained plenty of songs to have calmed your anguished soul for the last 18 months. We have some good tunes here this time around. If this is to be my last, we'll die happy Earthlings.

Black Cat, by The Checkers, couldn't be a better way to start things off. It's slow, slinky, dim, and with horns. I don't have any specific Halloween themed songs in this set, but this certainly does the tricking and treating for the ears.

Don't ever call central casting again!

The Night Hawks follow up the misfortune with Bunny Ride. This one rolls and glides, like you're taking a Sunday ride and you're not exactly sure where you're headed. You may not even know when you get there, 'cause you may not be YOU anymore, dead or alive.

She definitely knows.

Luck be some ladies tonight! Can you hear them call out as you sit down to a game of five card stud at Jack Eubanks’ Casino? You can't quite tell though, if the ladies’ sirens are a warning, taunts, or signs of good fortune. Just place your bet and pray to the gods of Bicycle you'll come out even, at best.

If your luck ran out and you still have your wits, quickly sneak out to the train platform and catch a ride on the Chartreuse Caboose. The drinks car is in the back. The Starfires are the bartenders tonight, pouring some potent cocktails, so sip slowly. Or not. Whatever you choose to do, don't call them goddamn mixologists.

Time to move on to the Sidemen Band Name of the Month Contest. Our contenders for this round include The 7 Karats (with Billy Mure), The Bell Hops (with Porter, who or whatever the hell that is), The Thundertones (with Lenny), and The Cardinals (with St. John).

I heard The Cardinals’ song Rampage on Intoxica quite recently. In fact, the flip side is what really stood out for me. It's called The Rise. I couldn't find it however. When I do, they'll automatically win that round.

So, who's left? Well, Billy Mure gets enough love from the exotica fanatics, so he's out. The 7 Karats is a great moniker though. The prize goes to The Bell Hops! With their title, The ?, I couldn't pass it up. The question mark is bold, simple, and profound. It sums up the existential backbone of this entire blog.

This is turning out to be a long entry. I'd end it here, but there's a few more songs worth a mention. Namely, the two unique covers. Green Onions, by The Midgets, gets washed, sliced, and garnished. I wonder if the band genuinely had little people in the line up? Next is The Sundowners with a damn fine take on Rumble. Growling brass, a wall of sound, and shimmering guitars bring that monolith of a classic to its knees in the best way possible. Link was hopefully proud of this one, if he ever did hear it.

Halloween is around the corner, which means it's not too early for some Christmas creeping. Take a Sleigh Ride with Mr. Lloyd Glenn. Bring a scarf and fill your thermos with hot toddies. The darkness is coming, a little more each day. I don't think it's a global catastrophe, just seasonal.

Now, only 8 more lives left.

Finally, a rockabilly ditty a bit out of the norm for this blog, but like the last volume’s rocker about Doomsday, a Tornado can still be lethal. And that's what these collections are all about, right? The Jiants really sent me for a whirl when I first heard that opening riff. Eat your heart out Johnny Marr! This is how soon now is, man.

One final word about Two in the Morning. It's very rare I'll stay up this late but man, it's worth it. Especially if the gal from the matchbook cover is there. I think I know why they're called the Spooners Crowd. Wow!

That's it for now. If you miss me, continue to look for new posts on the WFMU Ichiban FB page.

SNAFU yourselves here!

Volume 20 - Summer 2017

Are you surviving the sweltering heat waves, summer downpours, hail, floods, and thunderstorms? If not, or if you barely are, then this here volume may be DJ Aloe Vera to your sanguine, precancerous skin.

We’ll start off straight away by pointing out there will be no Sidemen Band Name of the Month contest. There were almost no participants at all--just two. And these two were well known (or close enough) to not really qualify anyway: The Arrows (with Davie Allan) and The Hurricanes (with Johnny). It’d be like naming The Comets (with Bill Haley) as a winner. Let’s keep our fingers crossed for next month.

Black and Blue by the Gigolos may be another way to describe how your skin might be feeling right now. The original standard about race relations is done well here by the Gigolos, With a slow growing intensity, these fellas reach a climax at the right time for an instro, finishing in just two glorious minutes.

Ooga? translation: Gotta light?

For those on the paleo diet, put down your damn BBQ ribs and mutton chops and dig Cave Man by Richie Allen. Hey, man with no name, wearing the poncho, with squinty eyes, meet your neighbor, Fred Flintstone. And yes, wordless vocals means it's high noon.

Dawn, by The Keymen, while not the most extraordinary instro, sets the mood right to envision the end of a long, long night. It's already the next day, my dear. This one goes out to a close friend of mine. May their lighted days begin anew.

Devil Driver's Theme, by the Astronauts, is your film score to the ride of your life, or the end of it. Hop in the back seat. Fasten your seat belt (if there is one in that '50s jalopy death trap), clutch your rosary and hold it close to your chest. Don't let the beads get tangled with your safety belt. That would be ironic. Or maybe it would save your soul after all.

He didn't make it. To heaven.

Tommy Steele's Doomsday Rock would normally be too far in the rockabilly camp to be included in this collection. However, its thematic elements qualify for automatic inclusion. By the third break of day there'll be a big earthquake, then darkness--and not because of any solar eclipse. On that fifth day, after your morning cup of black, you'll know all is gone. Time to panic, y'all.

Let's finish out our quartet of "D" songs with Downstairs, by Plas Johnson. The saxologist extrsordinaire, heard blowin' on many things mid-century--Mancini's Pink Panther Theme is one we all know. I prefer his work with Les Baxter. Yes, Baxter did the exotic realm quite well, but when it comes to hard boiled noir vibes, you can't do better than his tootin' on Boomada. I'm not sure which came first, the single or Baxter's album, Teen Drums. I hope it's the former, because a cheap excuse to sell some slabs to the young, beat de-generation ain't so hip. Ya dig?

You've heard of the Christmas creep? The capitalist ploy to start X-Mas as early as possible? It's September, so why not some Halloween creeping? Baron Daemon (great, ghoulish name) gives us Ghost Guitars to start the festival of spirits right on time. Bouncing souls and twangy death knells means it's time to put on the make-up or mask and start haunting your neighbors. Pair this tune with Night Theme, by the Phantoms for a nice stroll down the avenues. Get a good look at your loved one, as she may be not what she seems.

I want to get back to our grand theme of the end of the world. Ozone, by the Chantays, helps to remind us that things are changing. Remember when a hole in our atmosphere was something to worry about? Sheesh, a gaping chasm in the center of the North American continent--about the size of Texas, Colorado, New Mex, and Oklahoma--is the equivalent of what we're now dealing with. Kind thoughts go out to those walloped by Mr. Hurricane Harvey.

Poinciana is a pleasant finish to describe this set. A standard from the era. The Vanguards lend an exotic slinky guitar touch to give us a sense of serenity and ease of mind. The Nite Caps' version is held forever in high esteem as the best version in my opinion. All others are icing on the cake. Make a wish and blow out the candles, creating a bit of darkness once again.

I was curiously surprised to learn The Nite Caps were indeed The Comets (sans Bill Haley). Cosmic justice gave us a Side Band Name of the Month Contest winner after all. Sort of.

Get cosmological here!

Volume 19 - Winter 2017

Greetings listeners. Welcome to the latest nastiness from Dog Hair Alley, a half block down the corner from Polar Fire and Main, here in the final beating heart of Instroville. Stroll deeper into the alleyway and you'll notice a grey door with a flame carved into the jamb and a Bob Dobbs sticker by the keyhole. Knock three times, whisper low, and tell them you were sent by Job. Then saddle up to the brass rail and Lonny will pour you one---100 proof to help with the 100 degree heat for the next 100 days and 100 years.

This set has some imbibe-themed instros, perfect to accompany your time on the barstool, in your final eves. Drink plenty of water throughout the night. Perhaps have a bite to eat so you're not getting tight on an empty stomach. -- Along with the instros are a handful of gloomy vocal tunes as a refreshing chaser. So when Lonny pours you a double you'll be the one pouring tears back into your empty glass.

"Keep 'em coming, Lon."

The first two vocal tracks about heartache, loss, pain (and more pain) should do the trick to get the water spigot turned all the way lefty-Lucy. Baby Boy by Willie Gibson is nearly straight up Soul, but it's dark enough for King Bloodstone's taste so we'll keep it in. Cheating on Your Mind by Bill Mack well, uh, speaks for itself. Finally, Dark Side of the Moon by Eddy Bailes and the Cadillacs is shadowy and great in so many ways, not the least of which because The Cadillacs nearly took the sidemen band name of the month contest trophy. 

Crawlin’ by The Untouchables is a great instro as it is, but Richie Mayo spreads the sleeze really thick to do it just right. A couple other covers pepper this set. Rumble by Jimmy Carroll is somewhat of a mixed inclusion. Is it really any good? I'll let OfficeNaps explain: "While his [J. Carroll's] 1958 read of Link Wray’s opus pales in comparison, there’s charm still in its minimalistic anemia." In other words, it still has enough of the driving pulse of the original buried within its pale veins. The other cover is, of course, Tequila. Compared to the blandness of Rumble, Eddie Platt at least makes sure the citrus is more tart and the salt is thickly caked. There'll be a double recommended dose of iron into your bloodstream tonight.

Another worthy instrumental is Hot Chile by Nat Kendrick and The Swans. This one could easily come straight out of the Las Vegas Grind comps, because it's got enough twang and bounce to make the booby twirlers go round and round. Jet Black by Dave Dacosta is another fun romp. Darkness with some tongue in cheek. But, biggest catch of all is The Beard by The Abstracts. This was my white frickin' whale, having heard it on Howie Pyro's show years and years ago. The Abstracts also have the equally delicious Gitchee Goomee heard on V. 14. It was while hunting for Beard blood, that I found that flip side.

I threw in a couple surf tunes, both with a spectre of death. The Surfaris give us a dirge moody enough to stiffen the wax on your Yater stick. The moon slices the dark swells against the horizon, washing over you unexpectedly to send you to Davy Jones’ locker. Tommy Dee will then pen a teener ballad to memorialize your poor lost soul at sea. -- Time for another round, Lonny!

Oh, the foreshadowing!

We have to go with The Reverbs (with Speedy) as the clear winner of the match for sidemen band name of the month. Depending on how your device organizes the track listing 100 Proof shows up as either the first or last track. It's a romper to either get the party started or to be the nightcap before you lay your head down down down.

Before we call it a night, let's have a final tipple of Vodka by Eddie Platt. It's clear spirits, so they say you won't likely get a hangover. The ashtray's not completely overflowing. Have one more smoke while you're at it. Did you drink enough water like I told you to do?

Let Lonny serve one up, here.

Bonus Anniversary Post! The Vipers: Philadelphia's one and only 3rd Wave Surf Band

It was 20 years ago today, Sgt. Viper taught the band to play surf & sleaze. I, Bloodstone, give a special treat to you, my people. Or, you might look at it as an executive order to make your ears bleed and your iTard © void its warranty.

In 1995 I permanently put down my bass guitar, forever burying my dreams of being a metal, new wave, or alt rock demi-god. I purchased a tenor sax off of craigslist (when the ads were still chiseled onto stone) from a man living next to a duck pond in South Jersey. One year later we started The Vipers. A year after that we drove down to Wilmington, NC and recorded at Baby Ace Studios--two decades ago this month. We almost lost our ride home--nearly losing a billiards bet against a red headed femme fatale--if it wasn't for Sado's final bank shot to save my Ford Granada.

The band formed after I had some lessons and learned to growl on my sax, Halsey B. Gone (then Sado Galaxochist, now Frankie Fink) was told to get behind the trap kit, and Lingo was handed a bass. Steve Martian (now Steve Delray) and Shankey were the only two to have held their instruments for more than a total of 1,000 hours. Soon enough we had a monthly gig at Silk City diner. Steve had the heavy licks and was the primary songwriter, from what I remember. Sado was the mad mastermind of AV (see video below), Shankey was the elderstatesman, Johnny was the local high school dropout, and I was the fez wearing emcee blowhard.

Seth Moody, a prison buddy of Shank's, had started a studio in NC and invited us to lay down some wet tracks. Baby Ace Studios was part tool shed and boudoir, replete with red lights and chain saws. We headed South in June of '97 and ran the tapes, invoking the spirit of Blue Velvet, early '60s bohemians, and crisp after dinner mints. Mr. Moody was later inspired to blow sax with the Deadly Lo-Fi, and more recently with Jack Oblivion in Nashville.

I was going to withhold some of these tracks for your mercy, but figured you might as well hear the full spectrum.  For example, the mix of Moog, Sun Ra and reverb on Space Traveler is one we likely played live only once and left it behind to die of entropy. The Vipers Theme is fun, as is the lead off track. We paid tribute to Del-Fi records (Mau Mau), Las Vegas Grind (Crazy Vibrations) and Frolic Diner (Man with the Golden Arm). Betty Boop would show what was to come, with Steve and Hals's rockabilly outfit, Full Blown Cherry. All in all the songs reflect the fun we had down in NC, despite the near death experience for two of us on a jetty that reached out to the dark Atlantic waters. We won't go into that.

By the time we arrived at recording our second CD, circa 1998, somewhere in a suburb of Philadelphia, the end was nigh. We were in full-on Let It Be mode. The spirit of North Carolina had drifted back to sea. One man was sleeping with another man's woman, the astral spectre of Donz haunted the recording studio. I recall having trouble with my embouchure and blowin' some pretty filthy sax lines--not pretty. Some sessions I didn't even show up to. That daily Faberge Egg habit of mine was also taking a mighty toll. Nonetheless, there are some good tracks, especially wallops like Cutthroat and The Strangler. And, my favorite genre--the surf ballad--gets a turn on Danger at High Tide.

Put the CD in before they're no longer manufactured, and enjoy.

Want more from CD artist, Matthew Kirscht?

Go out and buy some Wacky Packages!

 

Press Play Here.

Volume 18 - Fall 2016

Open cover before striking.

 My children. My dear subjects of fine instrumentals, take this volume. Put it in your phone, PC, Mac, or your iTard © and shut your eyes. May they serve you well.
No. Instead, stare at the cover of the lovely dancer. Then, close your eyes and dream of her burning.

This is the next set in our matchbook series. Technically, we've skipped a volume that can be found here. That one doesn't have a matchbook cover. It does have one giant babe, so that counts for something. While V.17 contained many tunes culled in 2012 (the supposed end), our new set here, from last Fall (2016), does have two instros that take old King Bloodstone further back in time. One as far back as the early days of the Internet. A time of hope, digital unity, and paid pornography.

[Note that I missed posting in June '17. Since then, Craig Baxter's site (the source of the matchbook covers) has gone down. I'll let you folks know of any changes.]

There be trouble ahead, D.C.

We'll start off with the lead track by Roy Montrell. If his version of a Mellow Saxophone is this madness, then I'd like to spend my last chaotic days on earth with him and his mates. We'll rip and rock it like Davy Crockett, king of the dying frontier.

But wait, this King has got to have at least one version of the Batman theme on these songs to light the bat signal by, or it's as if the (early to mid) ‘60s never existed. What band better to bring it on than the Bat Boys? Whomever the hell they were. Long dead by now, I can tell you that. Cheating Charlie, also by the Bat Boys, must be the theme to the Caped Crusader’s bastard nephew or former best friend. He’d be the kind of foe that was a rich billionaire and ran for presidency to control the world--based on lies, duplicity, and super-powered radiation doses of narcissism. [Addendum: RIP Mr. West]

Cheating Charlie cuts a concrete rug

 As if we are onto some narrative drama, we follow the Bat Boys with ESP, by The Weirdos. Let's pretend The Dark Knight takes his psychic bat-pills and is able to read the mind of his nemesis in order to save the day. Unfortunately all that Cheating Charlie was thinking was what his name would look like in tomorrow's papers.

Next in our story, you will find yourself among the sands of the Middle East. The Shah is ready to see you now. His Harem Bells are ringing. A good time to bone up on your Mideast foreign policy briefings. In other words read past page 1, or else the harem bells will ring for thee.

Our favorite instrumental guitarist, Johnny Fortune, gives us his version of It Ain't necessarily So. Mr. F. is the moderately known (and personal favorite) interpreter of Siboney. This of course is one of the most sublime and transcendent instrumentals of them all. Buddha bless you, Johnny.

Act 2. Boy loses girl. Man loses woman. Man loses man. Woman loses woman. Humanity loses everything. Lover's Lament by Ralph Ventsha & the Red Julian quartet is a fitting musical device to get the waterworks flowing. Cue: Revolt in the Fifth Dimension by Ray Ellis. My Spidey sense is tingling. That dame, or whomever, is not coming back.

Oh, how my head & heart aches, Mary Jane.

Your damsel is not in distress, she's an indentured servant. Time for her rescue, Mr. DeMille. Slave Girl, by Santo and Johnny is one of those early Internet songs I mentioned (the Spiderman cartoon song being the other). I can't quite recall when I found this nugget. It's been years, but the World Wide Web doth certainly giveth. It doth taketh away--our time, eyesight, our wasted lives browsing her endless screens.

No side-band-name of the month contest winner this month. Mel Taylor and the Magics is all you get this time round. Life is illusory.

Light ‘em up here.