Sadly, that’s the message at the Pernice Brothers website…
Seeing a good rock show is like exercise or sex or crack or beating the Yankees in that it unleashes those feel good endorphins. In spite of Sox fan Joe Pernice’s current idleness, tour season is slowly awakening like perennials in gardens of the chilly Northeast.
With Mr. Kyle Daley under house arrest at his Mom’s for an infraction of General Code 345.987*, I have a free night off to catch a show. This one will not rock in the decibel sense, but Anders Parker is such a brilliant songwriter that the words will be enough… Plus I’ll get to hang with Jeff at least one more time before his twins arrive. After that, all musical bets are off…
Later in the month, Jay Farrar and whatever other musicians currently constitute Son Volt will come through the area. I’m still searching their new record for the hooks that grab me, but they bring it live so I’ll find a way to make it there.
Until this evening, my day will be consumed calculating my contribution to Uncle Sam. That is unlikely to be an endorphin inducing experience…
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