Ha ha! Only 38% of downloaders paid for the new Radiohead album, and the largest percentage of those people paid less than $4 for it. I guess that’s what you get for recording terrible music! I don’t have any way of calculating how much money this farce netted the band, but I’m willing to bet it’s not nearly close the previously-reported $1.2 million. Also, the CD version of the atrocious In Rainbows will quite possibly be released on the label owned by Dave Matthews. Yeah, so…Radiohead. Oh well. We’ll always have The Bends!
…Fun times last night. Rob, Sari and I packed away some bourbon in our bellies and went over to Echo Curio to catch a show, then headed down the street to Little Joy to continue the drunk festivities. At the gallery, Robedoor performed a short set in the back room. They sounded as they normally do. The next band, Cex Fucx, put on a fantastic performance. They reminded me of the Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra. Really great, groovy music with heavy beats. Two drummers, a percussionist, a keyboardist, guitar, bass, singer, and two saxophones. We danced.
The night also provided a hilarious side-story involving an older, Hispanic gentleman. I recognized him instantly as the guy who tried to pick up Nick at The Smell last month by inviting him back to his place “to watch some movies” (porn). He sidled over to our little trio outside the gallery and instantly began to make insinuations about Rob, Sari and I being swingers, and maybe we wanted to party with him? Well, at first we had a good time chiding him and egging him on, but this lost its luster right around the time he pulled Rob aside and asked about “his dorky friend” (me), and did he think [I] would let him suck me off. Well, that ended our stay at the Curio. We briskly walked to the bar, got ourselves a table and had some deep, drunken conversations about life, love, and all sorts of beautiful things. It was a bonding experience. Then Phoebe showed up and asked if I wanted to walk her to the liquor store so she could buy some smokes. We too had a lovely talk as we made our way back down the street. After loitering outside talking to Dana, the drummer from Cex Fucx, Phoebe disappeared inside the liquor store. Then, who emerged just as she exited but the older Hispanic gentleman. He offered me a handful potato chips, then asked if I had a big dick. Without answering (a gentleman never asks and a lady never tells!), I asked what his name was, and then addressed him by name, telling him that although I was not offended by his advances, I was not going to engage him in this conversation or any other, not now or at any time in the future. I told him if he ever saw me again, do not approach me or my friends. He apologized and said something about having to catch a bus. Then Phoebe walked over, put her arm around my neck, pinched my ass, and we walked back to the bar together without looking back. I thought I handled the situation well. Then I came home and Sari made nachos and tucked me in on the couch, where I for some reason continue to pass out night after night.
