Ted Leo, Big Steve and the other two Pharmacists

Recently I attended a concert with a good friend of mine whom I affectionately call JBenZ. He is probably the most well versed individual I know in music of the past and present century. That's saying a lot, but he is a lot.

Anyways, we recently attended a show at the Rhythm Room in Phoenix to see Ted Leo and the Pharmacists. As we entered the venue an early 80's hardcore band's front man, Kevin Seconds was doing an acoustic set.

Yes, he did look like he was homeless in case you were wondering. He was decked out in beanie, cargo sweat pants, and dirty jacket with a month's growth of facial hair and life time McDonald's waist to complete the ensemble.

During his set we had a lovely conversation with a couple of short, pudgy girls in their late 20's or early 30's. They remarked that they weren't to familiar with Ted and his Pharmacists. J BenZ simply replied that they had better get ready to have their "faces melted." I'm not going to lie.

He was right.

It was a great show. Ted and his group have a great stage presence and played some good ol' rock.

It was loud.

We screamed.

I lost my voice.

I still screamed.

I lost my midrange early so when I screamed I hit the high notes like a 14 year old girl at a Justin Bieber concert, or the low notes like a man who has just been stabbed in the leg with a dull pencil. No middle ground whatsoever. I tended to pick the mutilated scream of agony over the squeal though. The high pitched scream really lacked gusto, and would probably be more rightly compared to a dog whistle that has drifted into the decibel range of human hearing.

I guess I just don't have enough pent up teenage angst to pull off the higher notes. What a shocker right? I digress.

So the show was amazing, but probably one of my favorite parts was Big Steve. He's the drummer. All of them are pretty old after so many years of rocking and Big Steve still totally has the long nappy, greasy, dirty drummer hair. And a well trimmed beard I might add. But he's also balding a little bit so he's kind of doing the comb over with hair that is a foot and a half long. Automatically awesome!!! Plus he had the dirty sleeve tattoos, drank about 4 or 5 beers during their set, was as skinny as a rail and probably 6'4".

This man is an inspiration to us all. The band is an inspiration to me. I loved it. I forgot to mention this show was on a Monday night too. It didn't stop them from rocking out and winning the hearts of the whole crowd.

To Ted Leo and the Pharmacists

"The Champaign of Bands*"

*Funny story from the show. You'd have to have been there. But you can ask me if you want.

The Warrior Spirit...

This morning I awoke from my slumber tired, fearful of my test today, and generally not wanting to get out of bed. But knowing the consequences of such laziness, I arose and stumbled to the bathroom to perform my usual morning ritual. After which I turned on my computer, logged onto the internet, and saw some of the most amazing pictures ever given to us by my beloved Phil. I knew right then that I had to share this picture with him and all the world. Enjoy, and I hope this picture inspires us all with the warrior spirit in the face of trials and adversity.

And why not?

The other day my roommate James started laughing hysterically. I walked over to see what was going on and...

That's right.

A little google...

and...

Someone who loves me, please get me a huge poster of this for my birthday. Please.

I never mind a little political humor either.

Even with as hard as I have laughed over this already, I know it would have been louder and longer with Alex around.

This one's for you Dusty.

The Magnificent Mustache

11:56 PM, Friday Night.

After engaging in several hours of homework I have decided that I should be distracted. So come little children, gather round my knee and I will tell you a tale of the Magnificent Mustache.

Once upon a farewell talk, in a far away land, a bonnie young lass named Lydia was speaking. In the congregation there was a man. If I were to tell you this was an ordinary man I would most certainly be lying to you. For this man has been endowed with a gift from heaven.

That's right. Only a picture could do this mustache justice. I want to give a big shout out to Sister Scruggs's father for his beautiful and inspiring facial hair. Few things will bring a smile to my face and a tear to my eye like a good ol' man and his mustache. I'll be honest, I snuck this photo with my camera. Don't worry though, I'm not a creeper. Within five minutes I asked him for this photo.

One year later the Scruggs came home and of course I was pumped. The image below is documentation of the reunion:

My hair=worse. His stache=even better than I ever could have imagined.

I am officially a fan.

Sharon Jones, the Dap Kings and One Special Lady

This is Sharon Jones. She is a woman with soul. On Thursday night we witnessed this woman have security escort a 6' 5" white, coffee shop, long hair and bearded brother from Salt Lake's hippie scene onto the stage so she could grind on him while performing. We also witnessed her dance four women and one extremely flamboyant young man in a pink, V-neck shirt named Ludwig off stage.

This woman get's down with the sickness. But she doesn't hold a candle to the drunk, high or who knows what the chuff was wrong with girl behind us at the concert. This bonnie young lass was five foot nothing, extremely hyper active and had absolutely no personal bubble.

I was getting my groove on to the gospel/soul/funk when Alex leaned over and informed me that "the girl behind me keeps on grabbing me." All the sudden I felt a hand clasp my shoulder, and felt a body jumping up and down on my back and a voice screaming into my ear "Hey, Hey, How's it going?" on the off beats.

Correction: I felt breasts on my back.

I could tell by the general weight of the body, feel of the "protrusions" in contact with my back and timing between words being yelled in my ear that this was a short, square woman who could pass for a viking queen. I looked over only to see a truly disturbed look on Alex's face. I erupted in laughter and he soon joined me. We just laughed and ignored her as the mammography took place on our backs. After about five minutes she was separated from us by a crowd of front row fans who needed refreshment.

I'm not sure if it was drugs, alcohol, loneliness, mental illness or a strange craze that can only be inspired by an African American diva complete with back up singers and an eight piece ensemble. I only know that it was rather gross, and I almost received a hernia from laughter.

AS FOR THE MUSIC:

It was so rad!! ! I've never been to a concert with this type of music. I wasn't alone in my ignorance of her songs. In fact, I didn't know a single jam, but I still had a blast. I, yes even I, the king of anti-dance, cut a rug with the soul/funk. Alex and I couldn't help but boogie down.

So we give thanks to:

Sharon Jones

The Dap Kings

The entire Salt Lake coffee house community who was in attendance

And for honorable mention:

She who has no name.

Can't say thanks, but what a memory!

The P & A Stamp of Approval

On the 5th day of the 8th month of the two thousand and tenth year since the birth of our Lord, Alex and Phil had been together for approximately six days. That's one day shy of a week for those of you who don't believe in calenders.

Upon awaking from a deep slumber the dynamic duo entered into a discussion on the finer things in life. I'm not talking about any MTV "Hot or Not" crap, but the revival of an ancient tradition that has been passed down for thousands of years from our ancestors: The P&A Stamp of Approval.

First up on the list: Carne Asada Fries. Possibly the most unhealthy meal on the planet. Take the usual deep fried potatoes we call french fries and smother them in sour cream, guacamole, cheese and picco de gallo. Then throw on some red and green salsa, squeeze some limes on there for good measure and voila! you've got God's lunch. Seriously. This will most def change your life: certain to result in supreme satisfaction, death or both. If you've got depression and high cholesterol just go for it. Suicide has never been so satisfying. Enough said.

Heavy Weights: "It's just Father Sky, Mother Earth and your dear old Uncle Tony."

Who needs an chuffin' Oscar when you can get a P&A Stamp of Approval? If I were to give a synopsis of this movie it would go as follows:

A bunch of chufflets at fat camp who are under the supervision of Richard Simmons on speed and LSD. Ben Stiller is Tony Perkis. Get ready to Perkisize, and "come here you devil log!"

We've been quoting this movie all week. You should too.

"You've been a good guard Nicholas. Strong and fair, your Queen would be proud."

Number three: Radical Face.

Take a base of The Shins and throw in a touch of Explosions in the Sky and Radiohead and you get this Indie Rocker (with shades of Iron and Wine thrown in the mix). He's a Pandora find for me. I've heard his music a few times on one of my stations over the past few months, and I've liked every song. So when I heard him this week I decided to buy the album. Dude. Legit. Alex bought it the next day and we've been rockin' the album nonstop since. It's a few years old, but it's fresh for us. Check it out!

Titled "Ghost."

Last but certainly not least, this gem is a result of clicking random links on ESPN.com.

Anytime a UFC fighter decides to write a survival book and the cover is a picture of him in a loin cloth we will support it. Let's be honest, we'll never read it, but it is still B to the A.

Plus it seems rather ironic since we watched Terminator Salvation yesterday. This lead to a heated discussion: Zombie Apocalypse VS the world of Terminators. I maintain that living in the world of Terminators would be infinitely better than a world of Zombies, but Alex is more in favor of kicking zombie butt with out taking ANY names.

In either case we're certain we would be raiding Uncle Sam's Army Navy store across the street and buying a copy of this novel ASAP.

There you have it. P and A Approved and ready for business. Peace.

Quote of the Week

For those of you who are unaware of my current employment, I am a counselor for BYU Sports Camps. It is a fine job with lots of opportunity to have a good time. The following story takes place at my place of work. I was returning to the dorms after a meeting with my supervisor when I came across two young volleyball players. The lads asked me if my name was Harvey. Unbeknownst to them, my nickname amongst my fellow counselors was Harvey Dent or Two-Face due to my resemblance to one Aaron Eckhart. I laughed at the question posed by the two campers and told them that that was not my name, however it is one of my aliases. The boys then asked me the following question, "Who is Harvey Dent and Two-Face?" Anger stirred within my breast as I contemplated the sheer stupidity of that question. I wished to sit and educate the young lads and tell them the grand stories and adventures of Batman and his duels with Two-Face. However, they had angered me too much. So I responded, "They are one and the same. He is from Batman. I love Batman. And you have defiled him. Go to your rooms." Then I watched as they hung their heads in shame and marched off to their lonely dorm rooms. Mother chuffers.