Since this is now an acceptable form of “creative” journalism (Click Here) I am writing this concert review:

On Sunday, May 22, 2005 - Loki, Bear, DJ Webb and Storm went to see The Doves in concert at the Theatre of Living Arts (TLA) in Philly. All of us were worried that the show might be canceled due to the ongoing throat infection of the lead singer, Jimi Goodwin. When the Doves took the stage we quickly heard Jimi’s vocals and realized we were in for one hell of a show. The Doves opened the show with an extended version of “Black and White Town” they then transitioned into “The Pounding”. After “The Pounding” the concert was one wild rollercoaster ride with some of the Doves more mellow tunes and some of their more electrified tunes being played. The Doves demonstrated a strong stage presence as band members often interacted with the audience by hollaring and throwing items into the crowd. The band’s wardrobe was typical English-casual attire with everyone wearing Jeans and some type of untucked t-shirt or button down shirt. After two encores the Doves ended their set list with the Dove’s classic, the “Last Broadcast”. The TLA was packed but the crowd was manageable and not as rough as many we have experience in the past. After three hours we walked away saying that we had gotten our monies worth and that we enjoyed the entire show.

I’ll post a couple pictures in the next few days too.

I told my love
I'd be there with bells on,
I rang my love I did,
I asked my love to please just hold on,
swinging limbs under oaken trees,
she'd know when I was comin'
by the brassen' echo
through the night and out the holler
to her ears dear to me
and my love said she'd wait, 
for she loved me deeply,
though I was never too sure
just what her parents 
thought of me.

A full set of mp3s (pretty damn good quality for a bootleg, I have to admit) of this show can now be found here. It didn’t seem like they played for 52 minutes. Time must have flew since I was enjoying it that much.

A crappy recording of the Washington DC show the day before can also be found here.

The consensus on the internet about The Fucking Champs is that no one can really make up their mind about The Fucking Champs . Just about every net reviewer seems to wonder if they’re a joke, as if all their guitar virtuousity could only be accompanied with tongues planted firmly against cheeks. And, everyone has some wacked out visualization of them, how they’re a mix of (insert really good riff guitarist here), (insert something metal-ish here) and (wildcard here: some dead composer, a video game or maybe a nothern European country). To me, The Fucking Champs fall somewhere between Thin Lizzy, Deadly Towers, the Baroque period and my own guitar awkwardness.

But one thing is certain: they’re not cool.

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I’ve been working on one of my roleplaying projects again and I think the groundwork, the basic system, is finally pretty much under control.

For a long time the working title of this game has been FaLoR (Fast & Loose Roleplaying). That’s one of the things I’d like to change at some point in the future. At the time I came up with it I thought it was short and had visual balance. But the more I read it the more it sounds like a cross between Valor and Fallacy, plus it’s got this weird EvErY OtHeR LeTtEr CaPs thing going on that is bugging me a bit.

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The deluge of reviews continues.

I have an enormous net-flix queue with something like 164 DVDs waiting to be seen. This is probably because any time something vaguely interesting pops on the screen I queue it. At this point I’ve figured that if I’m going to be watching all these things I may as well solidify a few thoughts on the subject, tout the things I love and warn others away from garbage. And here’s this handy blog-type-thing that might be of use in that capacity, so what the hey?

This week the question is asked, “Avalon (2001): Poor man’s Matrix or cyberpunk noir classic?”

The answer to this is mostly rhetorical, pretty subjective and at least in my case “a little of both”. But having answered this question I’m going to go ahead and expound on it for a few more paragraphs anyway.

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Crowspun,
has gone 
to fix 
the wheeler,
so he's taken a
spin right over 
to the dealer's
for an inspection
leaving
Scarehat alone
in the swamp
drinking bog-water again
doing the stomp
trying to remember
why he wears a hat
January through December.