You'll notice that we're doing a little re-designing over here at Weasel Manor - nothing major, just a bit of a tuck. Sometimes this stuff requires a couple of steps back before moving forward. The idea at this point is to re-size the header logo and do something about the colors so they soothe the eye rather than assaulting it. Patience please - our team of volunteers does this out of kindness, decency, and pity for your technologically-challenged narrator and thus must toil in precious moments of spare time. We hope to have it sparkling by the end of the coming weekend.
In the meantime, check out this piece in which one James Testa, Esq. throws some much deserved heyahs at the feet of Mr. Pat Duncan, who has been doing his WFMU radio show since he was about 4 1/2 years old. Pat's one of the good guys, having given exposure to quite probably thousands of otherwise unheard of punk bands during his reign at WFMU. He doesn't look to be slowing down anytime soon.
In addition to his regular blog, the suddenly ubiquitous Dr. Frank is now providing coverage of music news over at the mid-to-high-brow Playboy-for-punks paysite SuicideGirls.com (the news section is free). If you think "music news" is a delicious oxymoron, join the club, but don't let that stop you from checking out Frank's typically dry take on the entertainment business. Adding a fourth chainsaw to the juggling mix, Frank's young adult novel is set for an April 2006 release by Delacourt press. I shall be front and center when his book tour hits Chicago, assuming my jealous rage has died down by then.
Now that the owners have almost completed their de-pantsing of the NHLPA, with only Friday's ratification swirlie left before the cake is iced, I might be less inclined to read the hilarious, insightful and almost always correct Tom Benjamin, but I still find myself checking his blog every day. Benjamin was the leading voice in a very small group of hockey writers who didn't mouth the NHL party line during the lockout, and if his dire predictions may occasionally go a bit far, he makes up for it with an eagerness to eviscerate through prose the half-baked ideas of the owners and their mouthpiece Gary Bettman. The emperor is buck naked and Tom Benjamin's taking pictures to prove it.
Finally, the above-mentioned Testa informs me that he passed along news of my quest for the first Palomar album to that band's immensely talented songstress/frontwoman Rachel Warren, who apparently then embarked on her own treasure hunt, which one might assume would prove more fruitful. It remains to be seen if the booty has found its way to my post box, but as soon as it arrives and I have a chance to take it all in, I'll tell you all about this terrific band.