We played Clinton’s tavern on Nov 6. I just found out that there was a music critic from NOW Magazine in the audience and he wrote a review. He hated us. The thing is he was there to see Flowers of Hell whom he thought was okay but didn’t do nearly as much thinking about them as he did for us. Here’s some of the great content Tim Perlich of NOW Magazine has offered about our show:
“..a Lebanese wedding band who learned to play alt-rock from Watchmen videos”
That’s awesome. I would go see any band with that pedigree (Nidhan, Raja, and Richlach are Indian by the way, Tim).
“Try to imagine a Quebecois Hugh Laurie doing a bad Don Knotts impression and you get an idea of Dirty Penny frontman Jason “JC Penny” Cavener’s performance.”
Also a great image. That’s going straight into our presskit with the word ‘bad’ taken out.
And the best..
“There was cause for concern when the dude in black-and-white checked pantaloons and Crocs mingling before the show suddenly stepped up to the microphone..”
That’s the best one because as I was getting dressed for the show at home I was wearing my crocs at the time and looking at my shoe selection I actually said to myself: “I will be judged by at least one person whom has invested time and effort to come see my show if the man (me) that is placed before them, the man who takes the mic and commands their attention, the man that owns the lights and can say anything he wants as loud as an airplane, in other words the man that is so filled with confidence and piss that he has assumed dictatorship with a smile over every major aspect of their immediate environment, is wearing crocs. Because crocs are crocs. And oh my god doesn’t that mean I have to wear them now. I have to find out who is gonna say shit about the crocs!” No lie, that was my thought process to the letter. Consequently, I went to town on stage with my long John Cleese legs. I kept those rubber babies high in the spotlight so everybody could see them, sometimes hovering motionless (I have crazy strong legs). I could not in my wildest dreams have hoped for better: my crocs made it to NOW Magazine.
Anyways, I wrote a whole thing about self-deprecation and music here but I deleted it. It was all blah blah Frank Zappa blah blah why he never made even nearly as much money as Paul Simon paid in income taxes mollo chollo mollo chollo.
Read the NOW Magazine review