When discussing music from the past, Brian Repetto, a.k.a. the Dark Esquire and of Dumbwaiters/Insect Joy fame has always had a great knack for reminding us about what we forgot and making us aware of what we missed. He’s the guy to remind you that Simple Minds had much cooler stuff out there way way way before the Breakfast Club soundtrack. Likewise, he’s on top of what’s new and unusual — not just embracing weird for weird sake but keeping an ear on what’s appealing and challenging in good ways.

If you want to be privy to what Repetto is listening to these days, visit his new blog, Obscure Alternatives. Highly recommended.

I think as a public service and excuse for a laugh we should award the best worst  local band pics we see.

If your band lands here, it’s all in good fun. We won’t judge you (wink!).

Please feel free to submit your favorites to juliegaristo@verizon.net.

Here are some:

Free Reign: Who told you to feel free to wear quasi-matching T-shirts … and how can you be so serious about it, too?

How’s that for some awkward patriotism?

Fort Myers’ DayMinus7 wants to kill you in the face …  but will size up your fashion choice first.

The members of St. Pete’s Stalwart have been instructed to stand a few feet apart.

Are they about to begin an aerobics class?

   Please read below and share in the reminiscences. E-mail any pictures or fliers you want to include here to juliegaristo@verizon.net or share your own stories in the comments below.

 … Let’s take a moment to raise a pint to them one more time.

Photo of Jeff Wood taken by Chris Zuppa of the St. Petersburg Times

         A great musician, confidant, maker of merry, defender of the underdog and owner of beloved basset hound Bubbles, my friend and neighbor Jeff Wood died at age 42 on Sept. 14, 2007, after a several-year-long battle with brain cancer. The former drummer of Nutrajet, Joe Popp’s band and other acts helped out in a pinch and looked after his friends.  

   As a musician, the rocker nicknamed “Woody” was a precise and propulsive skins man, a captain in the army of British Invasion rock.  

  “He was as loyal a bandmate as anybody could ask for and would follow me blindly into any crazy idea,” recalls Popp. “He wore a dress in Macbeth and boxing shorts for the Bruiser release party. He was an unbelievable drummer and could play three times as hard as any other drummer for a solid hour. The saddest part is he never got to play for a living – an honor he most certainly deserved.”

   An all-around force of nature, Jeff maintained a fierce exercise regimen. He never lagged behind in his employment, often working overtime at his shipping and receiving  job, and all the while providing the beats for several bands at a time.

    He left no question about his character, so big in size it didn’t seem to leave room for attitude or ego, and if you take into account the droves of musicians and fans who showed up to his memorial service – who still share stories about him over a beer – his spirit is still very much alive and among us.

   Ask a former neighbor of ours, Connor Halpern, 9, who, according to his mom Andrea Halpern, recently got in a conversation about the afterlife with his grandpa.

   “I believe in ghosts because I feel Uncle Jeff all the time,” Connor said. “He’s all around me.”

   For more Jeff Wood memories, visit http://www.joepopp.net/Jeff_Wood/Home.html.

Dave Rat Anderson with bartender Joanne Rivera in photo hanging at New World Brewery; by Julie Garisto

Dave “Dave Rat” Anderson – Another drummer beloved by the Tampa rock and punk scenes, a guy who also helped out on the spot and exuded a sweet soul – whose void makes hearts sink a little and leaves friends asking why – Dave Rat, did not have a reputation for picking fights, but found himself in the middle of a fatal one early morning Oct 24, 2004, at an event celebrating a reunion of friend John Kennedy’s former South Florida punk band, Nuclear Beer, at New World Brewery.

      Anderson, 34, was fatally stabbed while attempting to come between musician Dave Decker of Valrico and Christopher Bellamy of Gainesville.

   The friendly musician could be seen all around Seminole Heights and Ybor City, riding around on an orange scooter and never lacking for a smile for each person he greeted.

     “I’ll never forget Dave’s mischievous smile!” said friend Christina Petro. “He was the first true punk rocker I ever met.”

      Bellamy has since been convicted of second degree murder. Decker recovered from his injuries.

    “Dave Rat never met a stranger,” Kennedy said once in a story I wrote earlier this decade. “You always knew where you stood with him. He was a very special person and touched many people lives positively. We should all be so fortunate.”

Portrait of Mike O'Neill by Carrie Waite

   Mike O’Neill – A shock and heartbreak, the frontman for Monday Mornings, Nailbiters and Unrequited Loves committed suicide on July 17, 2006 at age 41, in a manner so publicized that I’d prefer you Google it than ask me to repeat it here.

   In the late ’90s, fresh out of North Pinellas and having landed gig at the area’s alt-weekly newspaper, Weekly Planet, I found myself in contact with new artists and musicians. My head was swimming.  It was exciting but  hard at times. I didn’t have the sense of shared history everyone else had, but with Mike that didn’t matter so much.

   Joe Popp, on the other hand, got to spend more time with O’Neill. “(He was) a great songwriter and a passionate talent,” said Popp. “I knew Mike for as long time. When I was in Dogs on Ice he gave us our first gig. He used to play extra notes in between chords, which is a trick I flat out stole from him. He was probably the only guy that was at the Hub as much as me. We used to joke about doing a rock musical together, in which he would star as me. He said we along with (Will) Quinlan were the class of ’65 and we would all one day live in a home for aging local musicians.”

    For Mike O’Neill, my lack of scene cred or whatever you call it didn’t matter. He made anyone feel welcome – an equal-oportunity defender and, well, offender. He was even-handed joking around at your expense; part of his charm. It almost seemed if he should have cigarette holder. So droll was he.

   Well read, astute, empathetic (yet unpredictably aloof) and sometimes a stream-consciousness rambler – whatever the moment, Mike came across as unflinchingly honest.

    He always called me out on my mistakes. (Mike, if you’re reading, I am sorry I used the word Americana once in an Unrequited Loves blurb. I think I got confused seeing you with Diviners’ Will Quinlan on those long benders at the Hub. It was a busy week.)

    Mike and I bonded many times over our tastes in music. We’d play the Kinks or Zombies and Nuggets garage rock CDs. He dated a couple of my friends. I dated a couple of his. Both recurrent situations made it awkward to bond at certain intervals.

   I wish I could have talked to him more. I now make a mental note now not to let snafus with mutual acquaintances keep me from a good conversation with someone I respect. Life is too short for such nonsense.

Band goodbyes

Home:  Home flew the coop just before this past decade began. The uncannily brainy-accessible band had established a huge following in Tampa Bay and decided to seek out new opportunities in New York. Some of those pursuits paid off. A short time later, Hope opened for Flaming Lips during the band’s European tour. Home returned home in 2000 to play a record-attended Screw Music Forever Showcase at the Orpheum with Dumbwaiters – probably the best local show of the past 10 years and have returned on a few more occasions. Home-comings are always huge and worth planning ahead to attend.

Tres Bien: During the fall of 2008, the Tampa Bay’s reality show finalists The Next Great American Band, decided to relocate up north to Pa. (See earlier entry for more details). When visiting our area, however, the energetic performers return to a local stage and go all out for at least one rousing British-Invasion/psychedelic popaganza.

Geri X: This month, Geri X performed her last show. The Bulgarian-born singer made quite a stir with her poetic, confessional lyrics and textured compositions.    She said: “I’m terrified of leaving. It’s so final. I’ll miss everything I built here, but sometimes the greatest things come out of confronting your biggest fears. So I hope to go to Atlanta and focus more on my music full time and not so much the stress of my regular day-job life. I don’t expect to be on MTV next month, or to become a millionaire. I just would like to make some more people happy and tour. That’s all. I’m not sure why I have to leave to do it but I feel like I have to. The day of the going away show was probably one of the worst days I’ve had this year but the night and the actual show as one of the best. So I seem to be compensating for my shortcomings (laughs).”

Sons of Hippies frontwoman Katherine Kelly; photo by Leigh Armstrong of tbt*

1. Sons of Hippies – Married duo Katherine Kelly and Jonas Canales break all the rules and bring back the rebelliousness of 80s punk and the idealism of 60s folk to paint their own stark and beautiful picture from jagged puzzles pieces of the past.

2. Stolen Idols – The soundtrack to a hep tiki party, Stolen Idols perform smooth lounge exotica with earthy percussion, inspired by tropical locales and composers Les Baxter and Martin Denny. Live,  torches often line the stage and the guys wear Hawaiian or guayabera shirts while bird sounds coo through the PA.

3. Beardsley – Pop eats itself and twists itself on a fork with mind-bending noodles. Wash it all down with sweet catchiness, evocative lyrics and a playful stage presence. Member Andy Craven talks about the silly and the regal. You could characterize Beardsley’s music in a similar manner.

4. The Sheaks – Timeless pop and rock ’n roll that’s at times pleasant, raucous and always infectious. The savvy players in this band sport a keen awareness of the backlashes and cravings of musical trends; I heard drummer Hunter Oswald can predict what you’re going to have for dinner next Saturday. 

5. Tie: Glasgow and Gentlemen, Please – Glasgow takes the best, dominant forces of the Tampa music scene, indie-pop atmospherics and folk, to create one crafty coalition of sounds. Gentlemen, Please performs otherworldly, intelligent and listenable pop brought home by Alastair St. Hill’s strong and intimate vocal; artistic challenge without the cringe.

My complaint about recent times: My head is worn out from nodding. Please — somebody — shake my booty again. Keep your black-frame glasses and geeky cool indie aesthetic. That’s quite all right by me. You don’t have to go total Usher on me. Just give me some intelligent lyrics, solid instrumentation and FAT BEATs. Thanks.

Other than that, band upstarts and new releases by established acts were slim on the local music front, but — thank goodness — things will pick up after the new year.

Here’s a sneak peek at what’s on the horizon. Let me know what I missed by way of commentsurations.

Fittingly disturbing and beautiful art by my buddy/painter superiore Oscar Beauchamp, to be used on King of Spain’s forthcoming EP, Peek.

1. King of Spain – Multi-instrumentalist Danny Wainright has joined Matt Slate to add rhythmic backbone and doubled-up atmospheric dynamics, hypnotic effects to the shimmering tunes of  our beloved Señor Slate. We look forward to more shows by the duo and the impending release of a new EP titled Peek. 

2. The Semis – also has a new album on the way, showcasing the onetime loud-but-arty garage band as more discerning and savvy masters of pretty (!) plus edgy pop. Prepare to be pleasantly surprised — and moved.

3. Beardsley - one of my favorite new skewed pop bands is set to release a  CD. I have no idea if they’re staying in the same direction, but knowing these smart, funny dudes, it won’t be boring.

4. Poetry ’n Lotion – Twisted mandolin-kissed and folksy-progressive cover band PnL has evolved nicely, adding their own compositions to a suite of classic reinventions of Zeppelin tunes and TV show themes, such as the Knight Rider song. New CD releases in January.

5. Florida Nite Heat –  More pyrotechnics in the sky, I hear. Hopefully this new band will offer something newer and more exciting in this vein since Tampa has almost as much of this type of thing as it has Americana. Word on the street is FNH won’t let us down. Says Matt E. Lee of Brokenmold promotions: “(FNH is) ephereal with melodic undertones; drums by Mes of Crate brothers, bass by Dre, a.k.a. Black Viking God  and Pocketchomper, a.k.a. Jensen on guitar. They do a slowed-down version of A-ha’s ‘Take on Me,’ and Jensen is a phenomenal guitar player.  He writes all the stuff and has a great tone/sound; he’s out of Jax and one of the premier up-and-coming artists in the bay area.”  See the new act perform Jan. 29 at New World Brewery with Patrick Baldwin and November Foxtrot Whiskey.

Crystal Anters, performing tonight at Crowbar in Ybor City.

Antlers this time of year usually conjure images of Canadian beasts schlepping Santa’s sleigh.

If we were to suss out indie rock’s Rudolph, we’d have to allocate that awesome misfit honor to Crystal Antlers from Long Beach: ”fringe-psych explorers of the first order,” according to label Touch and Go‘s site. The swirly, oomphy band headlines a sweet-ass experimental type show at the Crowbar tonight.

So as you pop in on and escape from the ho-hum holiday parties, remember there is something interesting and fun to do in Tampa tonight.

Don’t show up too late though.  New locals Dafrebos get the Absinthe high on without the hangover, along with the likewise envelope pushing Audacity and Set and Setting. 

I would like to write more, but my computer is being a turd.

Hope to see you there.

    Walking through Downtown St. Pete to Jannus Landing Friday night, I felt like that down-on-his-luck movie character who stumbles on the dilapidated cinema palace of his youth; a rumpled newspaper skips by; a homeless man urinates on the boarded-up box office window; and above, a marquee spells out in mismatched letters a ridiculous adult film title like Bazooms from the Moon.

   Is this what would become of Downtown St. Pete’s outdoor concert venue? Reduced to low culture and an eventual demise. It certainly started to look like that kind of scenario to me.

    No urinating homeless men, but there were a hundreds of empty plastic soda bottles strewn by streams of vomit on the Second Street sidewalk.

   And this was before the Insane Clown Posse concert, what Jannus management announced as the last concert at the venerated venue.  

    I felt a twinge of melancholy and made a mental list of my favorite Jannus Landing memories:

• Reggae and local “Nu-Rock” fests of the early ’80s
• My first headliner concert, the Psychedelic Furs, 1983, age 14, where I looked like a little new wave knockout with poofy hair, Scotch-plaid miniskirt and fishnet stockings. I was excited beyond rationality. Not only was I about to see one of my favorite British bands – during their prime – but all the arty new wavers I admired from afar in the record store and teen club were all congregating in one place.
• I also remembered interviewing the gracious Tonya Donnelly at the adjacent Club Detroit before the Belly/Radiohead concert. I waved a reticent but polite hello to Thom Yorke in the courtyard during the sound check. He looked haggard and put off a “don’t talk to me” vibe.
• Then there was the Lemonheads, whose leads singer, Evan Dando, was an alternative heartthrob in the early ’90s. Former Times music critic Gina Vivinetto met him the day of their concert. The openly gay writer worked with me at the time as a copy clerk and came back to her shift all a-flutter, recounting her starry-eyed admission to him that she’d go straight to be his girlfriend. Later that night after a fantastic and energetic performance, the drummer gave a stick to my friend Brooke Becker, who attended the concert with us in her wheelchair, a short time after recovering from a coma and life-altering head injury.
• I also felt a bit verklempt when I took my nephew Matthew to his first concert at age 15 in 2007 to see reggae legend Toots and the Maytals.
• Also that year, I attended my favorite Jannus concert. It was on April 15, the eve of my birthday: Flaming Lips. I bobbed and weaved dreamily, hugging on my group of close friends as flowing steamers swayed from the big oak tree and big yellow balls bounced through the crowd, a visual spectacle that counterpointed one some of the most inventive and melodic rock music I ever heard.

    Thousands of  music lovers have their own special memories of Jannus and many have shaken their heads in disbelief that the lights might be going out on a beloved and historic outdoor entertainment venue, one that’s spanned three decades and generations of music lovers, simply because the owner John C. “Jack” Bodziak didn’t manage the books properly and was arrested in May for tax fraud charges.

    So, yes, the seedy, absurd and tragic have intertwined once again in Tampa Bay. Sometimes it seems like we have front row seats to some of the universe’s most senseless parlor tricks (e.g., this season’s Buccaneers).

   But Friday was ICP’s night. As day turned into night and hundreds of fans lined up to enter Jannus, some six police cars and cops and horses waited on the street, but no major incidents occurred before or immediately after the show.

      The mostly white teens and adults in black head to toe, tanktops and black-and-white clown face – the signature look of the ICP ultimate fan, the Juggalo/Juggalette – remained in good spirits and didn’t get out of hand. They chanted “Faygo! Faygo!” in the tradition of Insane Clown Posse’s circus-like spraying of the inexpensive soda brand.

   Getting to the door involved navigating piles of litter (somewhere there was a crying Indian) and a friendly policeman helped me sidestep a puke puddle.

   Police presence was heavy, so black hip-hop fans: Don’t think you’re racially profiled. Anticipation of violence at what can be construed as some sort of rhyme-ish show is an equal opportunity reality.

   My hackles were up too. Having grown up in unincorporated Pinellas and pushed around by rough-and-tumble Latchkey kids, I felt like I was face to face with my childhood nemeses. Phrases like “meth-head convention” and “big night out for obese shut-ins” popped in my head. My inner jerk was in full force and was flinging inaudible insults left and right.

   I kept in mind though that the merry mayhem makers of ICP had acquired a loyal following through the years, the “Gathering of the Juggalos,” so I squelched the little smartass devil inside me and began chatting to the attendees.

   Every one I spoke to was pleasant and polite.

   The “love, hope and family” vibe that ICP espouses – by way of their moralistic-meets-highly offensive lyrics – seemed be in full force at the show that wasn’t the U2 concert.

   The mood was upbeat, though some fans conveyed sadness about the looming shutdown of Jannus.

   “I love this place,” said Chris Peoples, 37, of St. Petersburg, a thin, fit woman with a mohawk and tattoo of Elvira at the center of her chest. “I’ve seen the Genitortures here, plus Twizted, GWAR, Ministry.”

    Michael Brownwood, 29, of Brandon, attending his third ICP show, said his first concerts at Jannus were Rancid and the Descendents. 

    No mentions of U2, performing across the bay at Raymond James stadium, could be heard by ICP or openers Southwest SOL and Hed PE. ICP fans fought U2 concert traffic to come from Tampa and Pasco County to see ICP with nary a complaint. They drove from the south and west.

   Young Juggalo-costumed couple Justin Mullis, 21, of Crystal River and Julie Brengle, 21, of Lecanto waited in the back by Tamiami, getting some quiet time together while hordes of smelly and shirtless young men caused a ruckus by the stage.

   Hanging out back, a mom balanced a toddler in Juggalo face on the wooden handrail of the rear elevated deck. At the Tamiami, the bar at the back end of  Jannus, a Juggalo dad and daughter pair from Newcastle, England, showed off the best costumes of the night  – she in polk-dotted dress and striped stockings and he in green died hair, mock prison shirt and big red rubber nose.

   Plumes of marijuana smoke wafted nearby, smelling piquantly like what I can only imagine was high-grade chronic. People-watching for the first two-thirds of the night offered more entertainment than the lackluster openers, Southwest SOL (Dirty South hip-hop) and Hed PE (some kind of California nonsense). Sure the rhyming skills were there, but the mixes were lacking, the bass lines overly simplified and lyrics completely inane. Though ICP sprinkles in the shocking content (a la Eminem) and expletives, they don’t use them as a crutch. ICP had much better flow and more originality than the predictable hacks that microwaved the crowd. Much hotter than all three: the Apache summer heat that broiled the courtyard.

   The crowd packed in front to end. Beyond capacity? Don’t know. Considering the dubious machinations that have gone on behind the scenes, one can only wonder about issues like capacity, security checks (I witnessed none), insufficient Port-O-Lets, overpriced beverages and other tactics that have besmirched the glory of Jannus.

   I had lots of time to philosophize while being bored by Hed PE. The clown-face band (yes, how original) went from hardcore to hip-hop to reggae in such a by-the-numbers fashion, you’d think they were following a horror-core for dummies instruction manual.

   Jokes told in what was ostensibly a clowning style, were worse than what you’d hear from openers at Coconuts Comedy Club. The band’s front man (Jared Gomes) immaturely riffed on emo kids and said he loved his girlfriend because she watched the fight with him, cooked for him and swallowed. The crowd cheered. And then he said, “My wife doesn’t swallow.”

   ICP were an agonizing 30 minutes late to the stage, but was – to my surprise – worth the wait. What a spectacle. Sure it was no 360 setup with a sci-fi contraption at the center, but they came on strong with a stylishly splashy backdrop: the dark carnival, one of the band’s motifs. A sign bearing the band’s current LP title, Bang! Pow! Boom!

   Girls in red burlesque gowns sauntered downstage. Vivid red and teal stripes drew the eye to the back wall, where sideshow acts “Ape Boy” and “Many Faces” danced in cages. Clowns in glitter jumpsuits ran to and fro and around white barrels covered in shiny foil stickers. Those barrels held the Faygo for audience-spraying, which a roadie in zombie face would replenish throughout the show.

    After getting the crowd excited with the rousing and catchy Jack Jeckel and its “boom shaka boom shaka” chants, the energy dipped a bit, but the duo regained momentum for what was most definitely the best moment of the night, a fantastic performance of its cheesy 80s dance hit cover, Lets Go All the Way by Sly Fox. During the entertaining number, the glitter clowns tossed tons of confetti into the air and shot toy bazookas of soda to the crowd. The surreal reverie harked back to the Flaming Lips concert of ’07 – but with much less complexity and artistry.

   Toward the end of the concert, I spoke to Brandon Ready, 13, of Sarasota, who cheered when ICP announced it would start another series of apocalyptic joker cards, which so far have represented the bands albums. Brandon and his friends wore shirts bearing logos of the cards and showed them off.

   That kind of excitement reminded me what the collective, joyous experience of Jannus concerts is all about. No carelessness and corruption can take that away.

   Talk to concert-goers of all types, the sentiment is unanimous: the hope that someone, or a group of investors, comes along and keeps the tradition alive.

   And ICP, not so obnoxious after all. After the concert, the soda stash was revealed to be diet, so they were either looking out for setting a healthier example or didn’t want to get the crowd sticky. How considerate of them!

Here are some highlights of my interview with Gogol Bordello frontman Eugene Hutz, which appeared in tbt* today. The band brings its Eastern European-folk punk-mishmash of styles and infectious reverie to the Ritz in Ybor City, Tampa, this Monday.

What’s new recording-wise; what’s on the horizon for Gogol Bordello?

   We’re working on new record with Rick Rubin. I think it’s too exciting to hold some of this material back, so we’ve already performed some of it. As you probably know, our music is biographical, so as we continue traveling – we’ve been spending a lot of time between Brazil and New York – my two main residences,  be prepared for outbreaks of gypsy punk rock samba. It kind of came full circle because there are a lot of Romani in Rio. It just amazes me everywhere I go, I wind up hanging with family. We all know the same songs, different dialect but essentially the same language.

   I was thinking of making another film (like the Pied Piper of Hutzovina), but in Brazil. There are amazing things that keep happening to me. I became quite fanatical about visiting samba schools, and every favela has its own samba school with completely different style. I’ve been going and invited to play with some of the bands. The tourist experience never did it for me. When there’s something really interesting and heart-stirring, I want to live it by getting it closer to it. … I’ve been really welcomed in Brazil in a lot of ways.

   So you know, when we’re playing Sao Paulo, it’s really good, but when we’re playing Rio, it’s like this is our guy! He wears the T-shirt of our town! It’s like a fucking homecoming.

 So how will you manage those syncopated, Afro-Latin beats?

    We have a new drummer, Oliver Charles. He has actually joined the band at the right time. He comes from a dynasty of drummers from Trinidad, which is a key and so essential for some of the new elements in our music. Oliver comes in with a full knowledge to break out the gypsy punk samba. It is out of this world. A lot of times I really can’t believe what I’m hearing. It’s too good to be f***ing true (laughs). Right now I cannot share the recordings with anybody. Live, I can’t hold back! We’re just too much on fire to play them!

 People are down and out in America now. Do you consider this tour a rescue mission of sorts?

   I certainly hope so. You’ve got to burn all the tension. You’ve got to take all the trash out of the soul. That’s our calling. That’s our job. Hopefully, it works for everybody.

Is it true that Manu Chau lured you to Brazil? 

   Manu is the guy who originally turned me on to Rio. Originally, I went to hang out with him a bit. I just fell in love with the place. This last carnival in February we ended up performing together in Pernambuco, which is in north Brazil. It’s becoming like this secret new hang. Aside from all its beauty and charms, it’s a real 24-hour city. When people say “New York City – 24-hour city,” I don’t know what they mean. They mean the subway, yeah. There really is nothing there as far as nightlife goes. It’s not the kind of nightlife I enjoy anyway.

Has your way of life changed since living in Rio?

    No. It’s become more like when I was 17. It’s in my blood. Nothing’s going to change it. I gotta go – I can’t be in a city that’s not happening throughout the night. Despite all its history, America there’s not a one place in the whole country with 24-hour open microphone for poetry and music going on which is well-attended and exciting, but in Rio they do. What the fuck! Where am I going to be? Where there’s places like this? Of course! Nightlife is not about going to a predictable night club. That doesn’t interest me. I like swirling groups of people that have some kind of special activity on their mind, whether they’re obsessed with graffiti or making a party on the beach, playing music together or going up to the jungle and doing God knows what.

     The fact that all that is happening is up until the sunrise, on a regular basis, that’s the way to go. Different regions of Brazil will inspire you with something different. That’s what I live for. Being in Rio has tripled my creativity. It’s actually helped me to see similarities with Eastern Europe, with the way people are more in touch with their inner warrior. People here (in the U.S.), their inner warrior is pretty solidly fucking asleep.

(Apologies  for the belated post. Your friendly writer here is battling an uprecedented case of malaise, insomnia and brain fog. That. …  Just. … Won’t. … Go. …  Away. … I’m fighting it though. Like Eugene Hutz says: ”I’m in touch with my inner warrior.”)

So back on point: The  shindig at the Skipperdome was almost uncomfortably crowded, it was so well attended. There were the old school WMNF/Skipper’s boho types along with young rockers, college kids, 20- 30-something hipsters.

Very diverse but very white. Clorox white.

Oh, well, you can’t win ‘em all. The bands were in top form — though some faded in the background more than others.

Performing were Nine Volts from Cape Canaveral, Matt Butcher (Orlando), Roppongi’s Ace (Tampa), Mike Dunn & the Kings of New England (Winter Park), Black Finger (Lake Worth), Nervous Turkey (Tampa), Thomas Wynn & the Believers (Orlando), Have Gun Will Travel (Bradenton), Will Quinlan & the Diviners (Tampa), Ted Lukas & the Misled (Tampa) and Blue Mountain (Oxford, MS).

Ran into St. Pete’s queen of rootsy chanteuses, Rebekah Pulley. She and her main squeeze-bandmate, Rob Pastore, had just returned from a Northeastern tour.  She hadn’t made it home to shower yet. That’s loyalty, for ya’s.

She and the band played a gigantic and memorable house party in West Virginia and got to be on satellite radio while performing in New York. Ms. Pulley was aglow from the tour’s success and was ready hit the road again.

Thomas Wynn and the Believers got the daylight crowd pumped. I was on the fence about the band until I saw this soulful, tight-as-Rod-Stewart-pants performance because I’m not too keen on blues rock as a rule – unless it’s done really well (as with Roppongi’s Ace).

So, yeah, I’m of the faith now, you young sexy Wynn syblings.

Will Quinlan and the Diviners‘ set was short and sweet, reports my keyboardist pal Soraya: “We played a song called Calvary that included Josh H from HGWT and Olivia Wynn (and I believe those two sang on the last song I’m about to mention). For this set we had Danny Burke from HGWT on bass and featured Alex Spoto on violin on a song or two, as well as HGWT’s Josh Hernandez on viola on one song. We closed out with a cover of the Jackson Five’s I’ll Be There that was surprisingly well-received by the crowd.”

Photo by Charles Brewer III   

    Matthew Butcher, a soon-to-be 26-year-old singer, guitarist and harmonica player from Orlando, and longtime friend Dave Chmil used to be in the twangy pop band the Heathens, which disbanded in 2006.

   His current act, a group of close, simpatico musicians – Daniel Berry, drums; Matt Mendel; piano, organ and vocals; Dave Chmil, lead guitar and vocals; Gus Ramage, bass; Olivia Wynn, guest vocals; and Tom Cooper, guest pedal steel and vocals — has been performing for around a year with frequent visits to Tampa.

   Butcher cuts to the bone with a sinuous, earnest vocal, met with poignant lyrics, folk traditions and shimmering soft rock touches.  Like on Me and My Friends, his 2008 CD’s title track – a subdued sax gives way to the harmonica of On My Mind.

  Hear him at 3:45 p.m. on Saturday in a solo performance at the Americana Fest at Skipper’s Smokehouse, Tampa. $12, $15. (813) 971-0666. He and his full band open for the Avett Brothers at the Cuban Club in Ybor City on July 18. For more information on both shows, visit wmnf.org.

Below is the uncut interview used for tbt* Meet the Band profile for July 10:

When did your last band (the Heathens, right?) break up and when did this one form? The Heathens broke up in 2006. After that, I spent a good amount of time playing solo. I never really set out to form another band. When the time was right for me to make my first solo record I started asking some of my favorite musicians to play on it. We’ve just sort of carried on from there.

Congrats on getting the Avett Brothers opening slots in Orlando and Tampa. How did that come about? What are some of your favorite headliners you’ve opened for? Thank you! They are wonderful people and it really is an honor to be doing these shows with them. My band,  the Heathens, opened for them in 2005 and we struck up a friendship. We have kept in touch since and they have extended me numerous opportunities. I toured with them solo for a week, and last November the band and I opened for them two consecutive nights at the Bijou Theatre in Knoxville, Tenn. It was an amazing experience! They really are great guys and so deserving of all their success. Their new record comes out in September. The little bit that I have heard is fantastic.

To my ears, your band balances catchy, sophisticated pop with rustic appeal, whereas some Americana bands can be too jammy and kinda dull. I think your vocal and a timeless quality make your music stand out. Are there any pitfalls you avoid as a band? Please explain why it works for you? Thanks so much! To me, the most important part is to be performing well written songs. I am not sure if I always achieve this, but it is what I am aiming for. Musically, we strive to leave a lot of space in the songs. I think sometimes  a composition can become drowned in music. I am definitely a fan of the less is more approach. Simplicity is often the most effective approach. Listen to the first four bars of Neil Young’s “Out on the Weekend” … Magic.

What are some qualities in your bandmates that lend to your chemistry? I feel very fortunate to be playing with such talented musicians. They are all extremely respectful of the material. Beyond the fact that they have great musical chops, they are incredibly mature players.  very one really listens to each other. We try to make our performances a musical conversation, not a bunch of guys talking over each other.

I read that your early 20s were a turbulent time, as they are for a lot of us. Did you draw a lot of inspiration from the thoughts and  feelings of that period for your current album? If so, what song do you feel encaspsulates it best and why? My early 20s were an interesting time, to say the least. I spent several years in an alcohol and drug induced stupor. It was fun, at first. But it’s not a party if it happens every night… Haha. I think that’s a Ben Gibbard lyric. Most of the songs from “Me and My Friends” were written during this time. The title track certainly captures the overall vibe of the time. Songwriting for me has always been a way for me to reflect on my life. During these dark times I was writing a lot about depression, loneliness, isolation. Not the most upbeat material, but it needed to get out. I like when Tom Yorke says, “Be constructive with your blues.” That’s good advice. I got sober in 2005 and things have been looking up since then. The next album is all about beautiful girls, fast cars, and big bags of money.

Is Matt Butcher your real name, and would you  could share a little about your family life growing up?
Yes, it is! Slightly ironic, as I work at at a vegetarian restaurant. I was born in England, and also lived in Amsterdam and Colorado Springs before moving to Orlando in 1999. My parents were Christian missionaries, so we moved around a lot. Neither of my parents are musicians, but my dad has a huge vinyl collection and was always playing music in the house. I was listening to great stuff at a young age … Van Morrison, The Jam, U2, Springsteen. Not a bad education.

Are any of your bandmates old friends? Some are. I have known Dave for about ten years. We went to high school together. He played in The Heathens for a while. I have known Gus for about five years, and the other guys I have come to know in the past few years. We are all good friends!

Is the name Revolvers in any way related to the Beatles’ album? If not, what inspired the name and when did it become a part of our band name? Partially, I’ve always loved that album. Our piano player, Matt, is a big Beatles fan so I knew he would love it. I love the aesthetic of the word! It is more inspired by the idea that the line-up can change if and when it needs to. It’s a revolving door.

This is a silly question. You don’t have to answer it, but you
might have fun with it:  You’re from Orlando, the land of theme parks. If your band had its own theme park, like Dolly Parton has Dollywood, what would it have the others don’t? I am so glad you asked this, because I came up with the best idea the other day. I want to  open an amusement park where theme park rides go to retire. Imagine, for a small fee you can experience Captain Eo, Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, The Back to the Future Ride and many more! It would be cheap and run-down, but that’s all part of the charm… I’d call it.. YesterdayLand! Okay, the name needs work. But I think the idea is solid gold.