Don’t Let the Bad Guys Win

You might need a scientific calculator, or if you prefer a slide-rule, maybe to figure all the angles and dangles on today’s twisted tale. It doesn’t even start here except for the part that does.

Lee, whom I knew a very long time on another continent, lives about halfway across the state from me. The state, if I haven’t mentioned it recently, isn’t Incredulity but, rather, Connecticut, The Land of Steady Habits and nasty gubernatorial campaigns (the two principal candidates battling this fall at times seem to excel in putting the goober into gubernatorial). But that’s not the point, though it is a point. 

Some time back, Lee, who in addition to being a master of all forms of digital media is also a talented guitarist, shared with me some music he had from a sort of local to him recording studio, Dirt Road.

I’m not sure if it’s once a month or once a quarter or Blue Moon, but it’s pretty regularly scheduled and very reasonably priced, you can spend most of a Sunday afternoon enjoying whomever is working on music that they are willing to share in live performance. Lee is a somewhat frequent flier and I keep telling myself I should really try it as well, and maybe someday I shall.

One of the cluster of musicians Dirt Road Studios has been working with is Last of the Barstools, LOTB, on a transatlantic basic from the United Kingdom. I’ve been addicted almost since first listen to their EP, Stories from Somewhere and my course of self-treatment is to wait in hope for a full-length long player or whatever the kids call a real CD these days while continuing to listen to the EP (or whatever that is called these days).

I’m hopeful of progress because there’s new material popping up in a number of places, to include this toe-tapper (it could be) that’s blossoming on YouTube and to which I hope you’ll lend me your ears. I’m not sure if I told Lee about LOTB, if he told me or if each of us just figures the other already knows. You’ve got the calculator so you do the math.

If you play your cards right some day in the not too distant distance perhaps, we’ll all pile into the clown car and motor up to Chester, which has a scenic and pocket-sized downtown that makes me smile even though I have to drive very slowly unless I’d like a resident as a hood ornament. 

Hopefully it’s a Sunday when they’re hosting visitors or this could get awkward and it will be even gooder if we catch the Last of the Barstools. Despite the name we will, however, still have to stand if they play the national anthem.

-bill kenny