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.

The Americana Fest at Skipper’s Saturday was a resounding success.

(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.

Last weekend involved music shows in Orlando and Tampa in one weekend. Considering my low key mood these past few months, this double-header presented a challenge — but was well worth the time.

Friday night Tampa Bay music enthusiasts of many ages and predilections had the privilege to see Brent and Darren Rademaker reunite at New World Brewery.

A nice size crowd showed up for the event despite the seamy, soupy weather. Sweat poured from every pour. Potpourris of B.O. infused the air.  The temperature (at night!) had no breeze to buffer it and came with a heat index of around 100 or so.

The two accomplished musicians made up for the discomfort with their harmonious acoustic set.  

Originally from Tampa, the bros achieved success in various nationally recognized indie bands in California — including Brent’s stint in Beachwood Sparks and Darren’s in the Tyde. They both first came to popularity in the alternative late 80s group, A New Personality.

Brent and Darren  performed tunes from their bands, a great cover of  Jan and Dean California Lullaby and even a sweet version of Jimmy Buffett’s “Come Monday.”

After the Rademakers’ gig, I went to the bar to order a bottle of water to rehydrate. Promoter Jack Spatafora was in that popular, familar spot by the bar galley, under the pic of beloved bartender Joanne Rivera and late-great Tampa nice guy Dave “Rat” Anderson .

Jack said the funniest, truest thing regarding the Rademakers’ cover of Buffett:

“That was so punk rock. That had to be the most punk rock thing I’ve ever seen here.”

Spatafora went on to say that he really enjoyed working with Rademaker and they saw eye to eye when it came to their discerning, non-hipster-swaying musical tastes.

Palantine’s Vinnie Cosentino and Scott Becker (visiting from Portland) visited the show after a rehearsal dinner for bandmate Brian Johnson’s wedding. (Congrats, Brian!)

Cosentino and Jeff Fox are releasing their new band Therapeutic Chokehold’s new CD in the coming weeks and the ever prolific Cosentino is working on another Palantine CD. He was very enthusiastic about it, especially the cover art he designed himself, which he joyfully described as ridiculous.

Back to the stuff on stage: Openers were pretty solid. I like Junkyard Kings, but please tell me why these nice and talented fellas don’t keep my attention.

Maybe rootsy bands are so plentiful in Central Florida that they have to have some special oopmph or originality to make an impression nowadays?

For example, you have Orlando bluesy rockers Thomas Wynn and the Believers, who bust out stage presence, tight skills and unbelievably great co-ed vocals (even if a tad heavy handed at times).

Better yet, you have Have Gun, Will Travel’s dynamic and  infectious vocal by way of smart and empathetic singer Matt Burke.  HGWT has a way with songcraft and never gets to jammy or boring.  They know how to have fun on stage and connect with the crowd. They convey balance: they love what they do without self-indulgence, which, sadly, is a pitfall of too many bluesy, Americana performances.

Or maybe we’re reaching the saturation point?

Did I say that?

On the other side of the spectrum was Philip Pietri and the Manatees, who performed after the Rademakers (please see previous entry for more info).

Pietri had a sweet echo effect on his vocal and even brandished a clarinet for one song. The sound was textured and poppy, recalling mellow new wave hits from Joe Jackson, Haircut 100 and Roxy Music.

The downside: The drunken New World chatter nearly drowned out Pietri’s subdued and atmospheric pop.

This never happens at a smallish Social show, something I’ll get to later.

Our evening of karaoke was followed by a festive karaoke jam session at the Corner Club. I couldn’t think of anything to balls to the wall, shocking and rocking, so I went with an all-time fave: “I’m Only Sleeping” by the Beatles.

Saturday was a day to decompress. Bonding time with my roomie Tim. Visited Yoko’s for sushi and redeemed a gift cerftifcate from Frank the Librarian at Vinyl Fever. Bought the new John Vanderslice and Phoenix CDs, plus the latest Grizzly Bear for a friend whose birthday was Monday.

Wasn’t expecting to see anyone I knew and lo and behold, Tampa musicians Keith Ulrey and Brian Repetto were working the counter. It was like a weird High-Fidelity-hometown clashing of paradigms.

Repetto scoffed at me trading a Blonde Redhead CD. I jokingly said he must be in training to be a condescending record store clerk.

Ulrey shared that his promotions company, New Granada, has some cool shows booked this summer and that he’s really into the great food at the reincarnated Karma Pub, formerly Kelly’s Pub. I sampled some myself, and he is right on about how great it is. Ulrey said he’s working with owner Anna Stracey to strategize shows that work with the venue’s strengths and acoustic challenges.

Still feeling tired but mustering energy, I attended the John Vanderslice/The Tallest Man on Earth show at the Social in Orlando on Sunday night. 

Kristian Matsson, the height-challenged Swedish singer who amusingly goes by the name The Tallest Man on Earth had the entire joint rapt in attention with just his voice and acoustic guitar. The crowd was so still and quiet, you could hear glasses rattling at the bar.

Back to what I was saying before — no Tampa venue is ever, I mean EVER that quiet for a mellow act. Not sure if it’s testimony to Matsson’s charisma and vocal awesomeness or some strange geographical quandary — or that Tampa is chock full of  impolite alcoholics. I think it’s all of the above. I saw Yo La Tengo at the Social and at the Twilight (now defunct, formerly the Rubb). Take one guess at which one had drunken bimbos chattering in my ear while Georgia sang a soft, pretty tune. Grr.

Matsson and Vanderslice drew a small crowd to the Orlando bar – fortunate for us but stupefying nonetheless.

Vanderslice and his band played admirably well despite being down a musician. He shared that bassist Jamie Riotto had a stomach bug incident that caused them to stop alongside I-75. The poor fellow was back at the hotel.

Curly top synth and keyboard whiz Ian Bjornstad more than made up for the lack of bass with some percussive tricks along with twinkly and angelic sounds from his analog keyboard and synth combo. I think it was a Yamaha/Source combo. Friend Soraya from the Diviners was salivating and wanted us to hatch a plan to sneak ‘em out to the car.

In my humble opinion, Vanderslice is one of the most underrated performers and producers around. He has a mellifluous yet off kilter singing style. His music is the perfect marriage between the complex and visceral, challenging your ear with unpredictability but rewarding it with timeless pop.

Not to mention, he’s a fan-fucking-tastic producer. His San Francisco studio Tiny Telephone is behind such notables as Death Cab for Cutie.

Vanderslices’ band descended onto the floor for an intimate but rousing finale of the tune Keep the Dream Alive. It was indeed magical.

Here’s the initial version of my interview with Philip Pietri. He’s performing tonight with Brent and Darren Rademaker (of A New Personality, Tyde, Further and Beachwood Sparks) and Junkyard Kings at New World Brewery in Ybor city.

1. When did you start this performance project and are you releasing a CD this year? If not, what have you released so far?

Friday night was not tightly planned but included an itinerary:

1. Brent Rademaker at Friday Extra concert, Lowry Park

2. Grand opening party of Karma Bar, featuring D’Visitors

 3. Cumshotte reunion at Brass Mug.

I arrived too late to enjoy the dreamy pop of Beachwood Sparks’ Rademaker but got to say hello to him, wife Kate, chihuahua Starsky and the Kelly sisters (former high school friends). He shared that the show was a little surreal but fun. He performed with Joe Lala, a Tampa native who made his name as a member of the Byrds, Manassas and Blues Image.

 ”(Lala) was thee go-to percussion cat for three decades,” Rademaker says, “playing with everyone from Neil Young to Ringo Starr.”

Rademaker played a cover of Wake Up Little Suzy to the elderly folks down front and accidentally dropped an F bomb when a string broke.

“I got lost in the spirit of the Burrito Bros’ version of the Everly Bros’ classic,” he says,  ”and probably channeled a bit of Gram’s nastier side. Oh well! ALL IN GOOD FUN and for the love of tampa and music.”

A more ill-suited match-up couldn’t have been made that night. Rademaker was followed by a giant brassy wedding-style band, jamming Gloria Estefan, Chicago and Stevie Wonder medleys. 

My companion for the evening, Diviners’ Soraya, and I were approached by a Sexagenerian tantalizingly opening a can of tuna. He shared that it renergized him for boogeying. Lucky us: He invited us to join him.

Who says there are no available men in Tampa?

After being accosted by the third close-talking hippie, we split for the new Karma Bar, fka Kelly’s Pub. Former co-owner Kelly’s took over the space with a friend/business partner to open the reincarnated Karma Bar.

Art from Artcore adorned the walls and Mediterranean-jazzy nosh nourished between beverages. Speaking of which, still the same nifty beer/ale specials can be enjoyed.

Really missed the giant Pete Townshend poster, I have to say.

 D’Visitors performed a spirited set of world beat flava while the place filled with customers all ages.

So, yeah, food = still no smoking.

But the food is mighty good. Nice balance of healthy and decadent.

After, Karma Bar, we headed to Brass Mug. THE MUG! to witness the reunion of Cumshotte (pronounced coomshottay). Accent on E.  Soraya’s friends were in the band that played its last show in 2004.

It’s weird when your friends a generation younger are having reunions. Does that make me a granny?

But the revamped threesome brought aggrolicious grindcore with wacky song titles and stage props. There was a 12-piece drum kit, for starters.  Frontman Bill Demerest conceived a macho douchebag persona by ripping off his blue Oxford shirt to reveal a white T-shirt with suspenders. He also performed bicep curls and cleaved a log on stage.

Demerest then proceeded to get highbrow on the joint by busting out his TS Eliot anthology and read lines from The Wasteland, The Hallow Men and the Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock to a tune called TSOEliot. 

The whole thing came to raucous finale with the Root Beer Enthusiast,  added by a ribald, quite literal interpretation of self-dousing. Friends enthusiastically cheered, waving fists in the front row. 

What a wait beforehand though. Mannnnnnnnn.

The band before (forever to remain nameless) was painfully loud and seriously intense, but I enjoyed one dude up front, whose fluffy and long brunette wavy locks made for a majestic hairwhip. It was like looking at billowy fields of wheat in Kansas during a tornado — but in slo-mo.

The band left a token of their performance: a pitcher of vomit on the drum riser.

So, yeah, sticky floor plus question mark equal a typical night at the Mug.

The Semis’ guitarist Matt, left, and frontman Billy, looking like they’re in a special frame of mind.

Major label bands have riders. Locals have grocery lists.

I semi-jokingly asked the Semis to provide their shopping list during a silly Facebook conversation, and to my surprise, Billy Summer (lead vocals, guitar) and Matt Simmons (guitar) obliged. You’ll find this list chock full of necessities — and perversities (is that even a word?).

By the way, the Semis play this Friday with Doll Parts at the “Ever-lovin’” Emerald, as Summer so sweetly coined it. Cover is a measley 3 bucks.

—

One of the worlds most sought after secrets is The Semis pre-show shopping list. While some items shall now and forever be closely-guarded secrets, here is a short list of items that are required for a successful night of face melting, some of which can be obtained at local supermarkets, others may require trips to farmers markets, asian gift shops, or bodegas.

Fish oil, sublingual B-12, Multivitamin – its important to have the essential nutrients covered on a show day, as part of the pre-show ritual includes substantial fasting.

Vermont Original Bag Balm -  absolutely necessary for soothing the various callouses, sores, and abrasions associated with rock and roll.
575 grams of high quality Royal Jelly – known for its natural antibiotic properties, much needed in the houses of disease where rock music is consumed.
12 6oz bottles of siberian Ginseng extract – Forget Red Bull. This is the business.

24 capsules of horny goat weed – The name says it all.
1 large bottle of Goya-brand manzanilla olives – They’re delicious and go well in Martinis.
1 case of Fiji bottled water  – other brands of bottled water taste hard.
An assortment of gossip mags, including US, Star, OK, and People. – knowledge of all major celebrity gossip is a must before a show. You never know who might show up!

Other needed items may include, but are not limited to, spoons, straws, brillo, tobacco rolling papers, baking powder, isopropyl rubbing alcohol, hair dye (various colors), dog treats, pregnancy tests, catfish, wire clothes hangers, cigs, and wigs.

By Julie Garisto

Below is a transcript of an interview with Will Quinlan on Feb. 19, 2009, conducted when I was gathering information for tbt* Ultimate Local Band profile I did on his band Will Quinlan and the Diviners, which ran in tbt* on March 20.

I’ve noticed you’ve gotten some recognition on a nation level. What’s the feedback you’ve been getting on the CD?

Initially when we sent our record to the Americana Radio Network we did pretty well.  Early December tied for No. 1 for most adds to playlists. It’s been pretty steady since then; been getting pretty consistent airplay. Funny, it’s been mostly in Europe, in the Netherlands, Belgium and France. More plays and CD sales over there than over here. … I wish I could go over there. I may just have to get over there by myself.

The reviews that have come back have been really good. Americana UK, a Web site and network in England that pretty much covers all Europe. … I’ve been really happy with the feedback. It’s been really great.

Anything specific you remember people telling you about the record touching them a certain way?

For one, I’m glad to see the main thrust of the record is coming through to people. It’s easy for them to not only see what it’s about as far as the concept of it being mostly about my mother’s life, her passing, my relating to all that, the fallout from that. … In some of the reviews, they mentioned – It’s hard for me to quote them because I feel like I’m blowing my own horn – but they just have been really complimentary in how they describe how the songs are written, how it’s a difficult subject to write about and not sound maudlin or depressing. One guy, whose snippet I used in a press sheet, said the vocals were the equivalent of the Thousand-Yard Stare, the famous World War II photo from the Vietnam War. He said something about the song (Remember the Beatitudes) had plaintive, expressive vocals and how it reminded him of the photo. It struck me how he related it to the subject matter of the song. I liked that descriptive idea. It acknowledges certain emotional connection. To me, it’s flattering and it makes me feel good to know that the expressed emotion is getting across. That’s a big weight songwriters take. I don’t write things too literally. I smear things a bit, make them slightly vague. That’s always been my style. I prefer the aesthetic of suggestion – something a little ghostly, a little cloudy, instead of something hard and cut in stone.

The mood comes through first …

Exactly. It’s more about the mood. Read some of the lyrics and it’s obvious what it’s about here and there, but in general, the vibe is suggestive.

So you feel like you’ve reached another level of support and popularity?

Yes, I think so. Since I’ve been unable to get out on the road, it’s been mostly through online outlets, MySpace and whatnot. I’m starting to feel if I could get out on the road, I could do all right.

So you’ve been chomping at the bit to go on tour?

Oh, yeah. I’ve always been. Part of it has been that my father’s health was shaky up until the last year. He had prostate cancer and some other issues, and his wife left him in the middle of all that. She tried to take a bunch of money of him. It was horrible. So now it’s a problem I deal with and worry about because I’m pretty much all he’s got, and I’m his support network. But at the same time I have to struggle to try and balance that with moving forward.

Do you feel like your personal struggles help you grow as an artist?

They have. Have you ever watched that show Northern Exposure? Do you remember the cranky old lady Ruth who lived alone? She was really wise, cranky and brilliant. She had a son who was a musician and another son who was a straitlaced CPA, middle-of-the-road white-bread achiever. The other son was a musician who was always. … She came back from visiting him and was talking about her son and said that artists needed obstacles for their art to develop. You don’t develop certain sensibilities unless you have difficult circumstances.

Do you feel like your ability to cope with those difficult circumstances has changed over the years?

I cope a lot better now than I used to. All the crap, the fallout of my mom passing away, the way I dealt with it in the first two years was unfortunate. I shut down. I indulged in a lot of self-indulgent and self-destructive behavior, giving into the emotional swings. I was pretty volatile. At the same time, I got really numb and started internalize a lot of stuff. Stress-related illnesses blew up on me in both ’03 and 04. Having gone through that, I’m much better able to deal with it all now.

So you have balance now?

Yeah, part of what got things rolling with the Diviners was my finally realizing from the illnesses and suppressed emotions that came up that I needed to get back to writing and playing. It was a catharsis. It sounds kinda clichéd but everybody needs that kind of thing. For me, it’s music. I realized that it’s not something I do because I want certain attention, it’s because I need it. Plus, I love it. Having objectives is something you have to prioritize things. … If anything that I’ve been glad about too, since this last record came out, is that the feedback I’ve gotten has made me feel good about the fact that people understand why I’m doing. That’s very gratifying in its own way – to have people like what you do and understand why do it and respect you for it. I struggled for a lot of years to get back the respect that I had lost.

I didn’t think you lost respect.

Well, I felt like I did.

Maybe within the inner circles, with musicians?

I was the clichéd narcissistic, self-destructive artist from the late ’90s up through the early 2000s. There was a part of me, that other part of your consciousness, that sits back and watches what you do. It’s awareness on a deeper level of why you’re doing certain things that you don’t necessarily want to admit to yourself. It’s hard to acknowledge that because people repress those things, why they’re doing certain things.

Or they pretend like they don’t care.

Yeah, sometimes that’s a crutch. And I did that for a long time. It was an unhappy balance. Part of it was I was just what I was. I was indulgent, a self-destructive, pugilistic drunkard. I’m surprised I didn’t get into much more trouble than I did. I was lucky, very lucky. I think that a lot of people understood and were cool to me when it wouldn’t have been unreasonable for them not to be cool to me.

Did you feed off your friends and your loved ones as far as the good vibes they gave you, the recognition? Is that been something that pulled yourself up?

Yeah. I became aware of it. I was shut off to a lot of things. It became one of those unfortunate double-edged kind of issues. You have to go through that kind of crap to know what you were missing or neglecting. It’s unfortunate but that’s how we learn sometimes.

So you’re in a pretty good place now?

Yeah, much better.

You have a girlfriend; are you dating anyone?

I’m dating – sparsely. When it comes to that, I’ve been so wrapped up in the last year with working that it’s been hard for me to take time and it’s hard to find individuals who can understand that. In the past when I had steady girlfriends, my last one was four years ago, it was difficult for her and girlfriends I had before that, to realize that the music is not more important but as important. I’m sure it’s difficult for anyone, male or female, to date an artist. Whatever medium that might be it’s more than a career but a passion for what you do. It’s difficult for some people. They feel like they’re competing. If you have someone who doesn’t understand that dynamic, then it’s not going to work out

You have a day job you have to go to that’s not music-related?

Fortunately right now I don’t, but I may have to in the future. I have some savings and some income from my family’s mineral rights from tracks in Texas, my mother’s family. It helps me scrape by.

Better to live like that than a job that takes you away.

I’ve been in a place the past two years where I don’t feel like I need to do that. That’s why I’ve been so manically invested in working – I’ve been working on three projects right now. I have a tendency to procrastinate and be a little lazy, so I have to poke myself.

How do you find it within yourself to motivate yourself to do all that?

It’s about self-awareness. Some people come to it quicker. I know 24-year-olds who are so self-aware and on the ball.

Do you ever feel like the ideas are coming from different directions and you have to find a way to filter them out and narrow them down to a few central ideas?

Yeah, that’s tricky sometimes. Like I said, I have three projects right now, and for me sometimes it’s difficult for me to figure out where to split it up. I’m working on a semi-solo project that’s going to be a companion piece to Navasota. I wrote all these alternate versions of several of those songs, and some of them are actually original versions, and they changed to become what appeared on the record, and so I was going through notebooks of all this stuff, ideas and song notes and whatnot.

   I have my own way of mapping songs out. Remember those outlines you’d have to write in English class, in high school? It’s kind of like that. There’s that and there’s the next Diviners record and a side project, the Holy Slow Train record, which has been pushed back and is due to come out in June.

So your current lineup still consists of all the folks listed on your MySpace page?

Yeah.

Any guest players, plans for the new Diviners CD? Where are you going to record it?

At the moment, it’ll be just kind of doing the same as had done on Navasota where it was split 50-50 or 60-40 between my house and doing it over at Steve Connelly’s Zen studio in St. Petersburg. We do some of the recording over there and when it’s all done, we do all the mixing and mastering over there. Steve’s great. I’ve known him for a long time, since before I played out. He’s got a great ear for what I do and the way I write. He has a very empathetic ear and response. I could start to describe an idea or a concept for a song and before I’m done, and he’s like, ‘I got it.’ He gets the sonic aesthetic I’m going for – that rangy, dusty sound, organic.

Let’s go back to your previous work.

Pagan Saints had its embryonic spasms in the early 90s… we were called the Pagans briefly. We were a duo. We found out that the Pagans were a Thai punk band. They had the name and we got a letter from them to let go of the name. That turned into Pagan Saints – the name was coined when were a duo – and went through several revolving lineups. Officially, the beginning was – I’ve settled on 1993, through October 2003, when I pulled the plug on it. I should have done it earlier but it was hard for me to tell what to do at the time.

Like being stuck in a dysfunctional marriage?

Kinda. I mean, it was hard for me to admit to myself. It was March 03 when we got invited to go to Austin (for South by Southwest) with BAAMO, the first year they put on the Tampa Bay showcase, but the whole band couldn’t do it. At the time, Mark Bustin was playing guitar with us, so Mark and I went. While we were out there, going around to see all these great bands, I realized we were not as good. I mean, we were good but we hadn’t worked hard enough, and it was then that the Pagan Saints bubble burst for me, but I couldn’t acknowledge it. It was this kind of inertia I didn’t feel until months later. I felt it but on a subconscious level, and I didn’t want to admit it. So, we drug things on through the summer of 03 and we played the SMA conference in St. Pete, at the State Theater. When I walked onstage that night, I knew – it clicked – it was a couple days after that I told everybody, ‘That’s it.’ It’s unfortunate it took me several months.

That seemed to coincide with the end of the period, for lack of a better phrase, of your lost years.

Yeah, my mom passed in 2000. From 2000 to 2003, it was shaky. We had some good moments in there, and there was good stuff we recorded at Panda Studios with George Harris, but I kept dragging my feet and I didn’t know why. The material was good. I still regret not finishing that record. There was just something in me I couldn’t acknowledge.

After that, did you feel like you were starting from scratch or were you already delving into your solo material?

Part of what took me so long (to work on the solo material) was I was terrified of not having my band. That’s all I had for 10 years – technically a little more than that. I started getting horrible stomach disorders from that and all the other stuff I had been repressing for 2 and a half- 3 years. What’s funny, it was the beginning of October 2000 when we had my mother’s funeral and three years later to the day that I finally ended Pagan Saints.

How do people interpret the religious iconography on the Navasota record?

Some people think when they lightly listen to it and see the song titles, like the sacred heart on the cover record – which symbolizes my mother, but that’s another tangent – they see me as a religious person. I am not. I have somewhat of a mild obsession with what could be called the mysticism of Catholicism before it got warped. I grew up Catholic, but now I’m more of a secular humanist pagan, a mash-up of all those things. There was an element of Christian mysticism there before it was killed by the church. For me, the problem was with the structure, the hierarchy of the church, which contradicted all the teachings they professed to have this great faith in.

In my early-to-late teens I started noticing all the contradictions, and I couldn’t stand it and I got away from it. … I think people feel like it’s like opening a big can of worms. They don’t want responsibility for heavy things. They want to put it in the hands of that mother or father figure who’s going to take care of us. It’s a holdover from childhood. … Being Irish-Catholic there’s that guilt. It hangs over you like a black cloud blasting out lightning bolts all the time. We mentioned the Beatitudes earlier. Part of the concept of Remember the Beatitudes came from a debate I had with a really uptight coworker, who was what you could call a new charismatic evangelical Christian. They try and act open outwardly but beneath that there’s this thin veneer of tight-clenching hatred of anything that isn’t what they are. I debated and argued with this person all the time. It got pretty heated. I was almost yelling at him. I started going into this spiel about the Beatitudes – ‘What about the meek shall inherit the earth, blessed are the poor and it’s harder for a camel to pass through the eye of the needle than a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven?’ I said you people never remember things like that. You just gloss it over and the concept stuck with me. I think I said verbatim ‘Remember the Beatitudes? Or ‘What about the Sermon on the Mount?’ They were talking about all this fire and brimstone, strict conformity. … Jesus was the premier socialist, the complete socialist hippie. If he were alive today, he’d probably be thrown in jail.

What was the other personal connection with the song title, with regard to the relatives who died in Vietnam?

One was a cousin, one was my brother. They both were like older brothers. They went away when I was 7 and they both were gone before I was 8. The title (in relation to the memory) had to do with a concept of the charity, the truth, the core, the seed about what Christianity is supposed to be about – about accepting and giving. That applies, and that concept came to me in a fated, indirect way. They were the core issues that were contradicted by all these negative horrible things – the push, the brainwashing that got us into that war. It was all tied together in that respect.  The propaganda that got us into that war was the same as the propaganda that got us into Iraq. All these politicians and leaders that got us into Vietnam and Iraq profess to be Christians but if they were truly devout and followed those basic core concepts of what Christianity really is, they wouldn’t be pushing anyone into war. They wouldn’t be pushing for war anywhere anytime. Once again, it’s that contradiction I came back to with “Remember the Beatitudes.”

All these realizations seem to have led up to progression in the caliber of your performance. There’s just this sense of a connection you have with the audience now, something resonating on another level, the cohesion of the band and a beauty you’re bringing to the music, I think.

Wow. That’s cool. For me, it’s hard to have that kind of objectivity. At times, I sense something that I like, something that feels good. Definitely in the last couple, few years I’ve become more confident in performing on stage. In past reviews, there would be a mention of how I was static and I would just stand there and hug the mic and didn’t move around much. It’s not about jumping around like a wild ape. I’ve seen people stand stock still and bang on their guitar, and it’s amazing. I think there’s room for all of that within one set.

Do you feel like you have a certain confidence in your instincts now?

Once again, it’s a balance of taking into consideration how people judge things or perceive me and not worrying about that, pushing past it. I still get a little nervous before we play. Specifically speaking of that set at the State Theater (Geri X CD Release Show, Jan. 17), there was a kind of – I hate to use flowery terms – but a kind of joyful abandonment that hits you at some point when you’re on stage and you know it’s going well. I can see it in the crowd and literally feel it. You get high off the crowd. That hits you and you give more and it becomes this continuous feedback and it gets stronger and stronger. The last song we did was a preview to the Holy Slow Train material. It’s called Emmanuel (The Western Line). A bit more – and I am loath to use certain terms more –

indie rock, folk rock. The country elements are pretty much not there. A friend of mentioned that it’s kind of like the Decemberists meets Iron and Wine meets the Shins with My Morning Jacket and something else thrown in there that’s kind of ragged. Maybe Neil Young’s electric stuff. It’s more of a mishmash of progressive indie rock stuff. I’m reluctant to use the term indie rock but it points to an aesthetic people recognize.

You’ve always drawn from early bluegrass, folk forms, the kind of music that germinated into what we have now. Is there anything recently you’ve gotten into that’s inspired you in your songwriting?

I listen to all kinds of stuff, everything from old bluegrass stuff like you mentioned – Bill Monroe and the Carter Family and stuff like that, up through the Americana stuff like Uncle Tupelo and, of course, Neil Young. If I were forced to choose a favorite artist, it would be Neil Young. There are always rock stars and pop. I’m always surprised that people don’t hear the pop in my music. They hear stuff that I don’t hear at first because it’s different from the perspectives. It’s related to what they know. It’s hard for me to be outside the material. I’m so close to it, but to me, there’s a strong use of melody, which I love and it comes out naturally. Yeah, so there are pop influences in there – Elton John, ELO. … I had a fling with Metallica in the ’80s and I listen to classical music, too.

Has your ability to collaborate, your chemistry with others on stage gotten better than in previous years?

Yeah, I’m more relaxed. It’s not such a heavy thing as it used to be. At times, I could be a little too heavy or intense for some people.

You’ve been more open to absorbing everyone else’s input?

I don’t get a lot of it. This is tricky to explain. The individuals I work with now, they came into the band with an understanding – they’re all great people, open, very aware and sharp – they see that I’m writing the songs and I’m directing it, and that’s cool with them and they accept that dynamic. Some bands are like that and some are true total democracy. I used to have a much more difficult time talking about that dynamic, but I do now because I understand and I accept it and I don’t worry about it. I trust it. If I’m true in what I’m doing and I’m honest, and I feel that I am. It’s not about my pride or ego, it’s about what’s best for the song. It’s really a blessing for me to have people around who get it. Some people understand that and can work with it and some people have a problem with it because they want to be in control and see me as being in control. Technically, it’s not about that. It’s about the fact that there’s a group, and there’s a leader, and it just happens to be me. This is my thing. I’m moving forward and I’ve been very fortunate in having over the years, with one or two rare exceptions, people who’ve come on board who got it and came to me and offered their services, especially with all the turnover I’ve had. I still call it the Pagan Curse, a constant rotating door. It always seemed like it wasn’t meant to be. We’d get rolling and the wheels would fall off, somebody would have to leave town. That would happen all the time. But there was always someone there waiting, willing to offer their services. There was a stretch in the mid 90s up until the last incarnation of Pagan Saints, somebody couldn’t play anymore, and within a week I’d be getting phone calls from people saying, ‘I’ve heard you need somebody.’ So on one hand there was a curse and on the other hand there was always somebody there who was really fit and a great person I got along willing to come in and take somebody’s place.

You said without misgivings that you are the leader. Was there a time when that Catholic guilt crept in and made it difficult for you to say that? I would think that when you were younger you had some discomfort or anxiety with that.

I did. For the longest time, a time in the beginning when it was Will Quinlan and the Pagan Saints. I was so self-conscious about that. I dropped my name because I was so uncomfortable with my name out front. I felt that way until just a little over a year ago. It was December of 07, when I decided to put my name out front, just as we were mixing and getting the record done and getting it out. … Over time, I became comfortable with it.

Do you feel like the Pagan Curse is gone?

(Laughs) It’s somewhat diminished a bit. A good part of that was me, not letting it have such weight, acknowledging it for what it was and letting it disperse. It’s going away, and I don’t think it’s completely gone. We’re not on the road. If we were, I’d say flat out the curse is gone, but there’s still part of me that’s tense and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Would it be possible for some of your bandmates who have day jobs to take time off to tour?

Even take a hiatus, a sabbatical, so to speak. None of them, with exception of Soraya, our keyboard player, none us has a day job now. But she has a really cool boss. I was at a gig and her boss came out to see us and I met him, and I kinda joked with him and asked, ‘Are you going to have a problem when I take her away from you for six months?’ He kinda laughed and said, ‘We’ll work something out.’

WMNF is a hard-working mother who toils around the clock to keep Tampa Bay fed and bathed with enlightenment and entertainment, making up for the ways that all of  the other radio stations fall short in taking care of us.

And like our moms, 88.5 FM never seems to get the respect and generosity she deserves but keeps at it, growing and coming up with new fun concert events, armed by the trusty aid of tireless unpaid volunteers who help to bring us an impeccable variety of music styles, public affairs and news.

With Spring Marathon Drive in full effect, it’s time to scrape up some extra cash — your Starbucks, beer money, the bills you use to buy magazines that never get read — and donate a little sumpin’ to this great local institution we’re so blessed to have in the Tampa Bay area. The minimum is only $25 and if you want to donate more, the station can arrange to withdraw from your debit/credit card in installments. Plus, they send you nifty presents like CDs and concert tickets as a token of their appreciation.

Note, also, that if you don’t have the cash in your account now, you can elect to be billed.

With dwindling funds going to cultural nonprofits, it’s really up to us to keep WMNF alive.

Wouldn’t you be sad not to have the Friday night soul party with the D-O-C and all his shout-outs to the bruthas in lockdown?

Or not be able to hear the latest hipster indie pop on Saturday afternoons with Scott Imrich or Grand National Champions Kamran Mir and Alastair St. Hill on Monday late nights; lose touch with local bluegrass hero  Tom Henderson;  miss out on rare Motown hits from Jeff Stewart; or obscure mod-British Invasion nuggets from Laura Taylor; JoEllen’s Schilke Art in Your Ear? The 60s show? Or not get the gentle workweek nudge from the rootsy-twangy Americana monday morning show?

People, the list goes on — that’s just a small sampling of WMNF brings us. We get some of the best news and education shows, from Fresh Air to Counterspin to the scientific explorations of Michio Kaku.

Heck, WMNF News Director Rob Lorei  is one of the smartest newsmen in America and he’s  in our own back yard. He’s a quietly charismatic speaker and listener, measured, objective and knowledgeable while expressing passion about the things that are universally right and wrong. He could easily host Meet the Press or an evening news show. Lucky for us, he never broke the big time in the national mainstream press.

I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want to lose this great programming, and it would make the DJs of the shows above (for schedule, see https://wmnf.org/schedule) feel great to get a donation and shout out from you during one of their shows.

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