A concert

Hey, check this out.  You'll have to scroll down to the entry for the eighth, or possibly up to the entry for the eighth of April.  Soon enough that entry won't even be on the page anymore, but that's the way of the world.  (See my forthcoming paper "Permalinks and the Denial of Death" for a discussion of this phenomenon.)  Notice that Anton Hatwich (who looks very bassist, even if his name is very "I am reading a book by Georges Bataille, and my millinery would delight if placed between bread") is double-booked.  One wonders what Nate Lepine and Frank Rosaly did, since he was at the Ice Factory at least between 9 and 1130.  As was I!  Adam Kotsko was there too, but that was last August.  (Last August is also when Anthony said he'd marry Johanna—don't tell his wife!)

I don't have anything to say about this concert thing except that the banjo-cello duo (the "electronics" in this case meant "we're using amps") was surprisingly amazing.  Tim Daisy, who is, it seems, the leader of the Festival Quartet (who were also good, but not totally rawkin!!!), remarked before his group started playing that they sounded like they'd been playing together for a while, and: he was right, they did sound that way.  Plus the banjo player's name is "Uncle Woody Sullender".  Uncle Woody.  The possibilities are literally staggering—I'm pretty sure I'm doing my back permanent damage just contemplating them. Add to that a venue in which the performance area shares space with a washer and dryer, and you get, uh, something or other.  An unknown quantity, to be called X in accord with tradition!