What the Fuck Should I Do Tonight: And Don't Forget To Give Me Back My Black T-Shirt Edition!

Well, well, well.... Portland, Maine’s music community, you’ve officially broken me. Are you happy now, are you finally fucking happy for once in your fucked up, narcissistic life?

I don’t like google ads. I think they suck to look at, and remarketing ads are weird, they’re the ones where you like, look at a pair of shoes on Amazon and then for like six weeks that same pair of shoes shows up in every ad on every web site and you’re like LEAVE ME ALONE, JEFFREY CAMPBELL JULIANA SLINGBACKS I CAN’T AFFORD YOU I JUST THINK YOU’RE PRETTY! It’s predatory, it’s endgame capitalism, and I choose not to participate.

But I have to fund this shit somehow. They raised the prices on my web hosting, and it costs money to go see live music and do things and you know, stay relevant. So I made these fucking amazing-ass t shirts, and I put them up for a flash sale thinking, like a simpleton, that one or two folks in the music community here would step up and maybe spend $20 for a sweet ass shirt that would help me pay the bills. You know, because of all those times I’ve paid for shows and bought merch at y’all’s shows. 

What actually happened, though, is that I sold a shitload of shirts and NOT A SINGLE ONE was purchased by a Maine musician. People who bought them included journalists, bartenders, talent buyers, women with whom I went to high school, some amazing goddesses from the yoga studio I go to but don’t deserve, people from four other fucking states for shits sake, and on and on forever and ever, Amen. But not a single Portland musician.

AND SO - and this is going to feel really fucking great to get off my chest, Maine musicians - I say to thee:

FUCK YOU TOO.

Yep, eat a snot-wrapped, sweat-logged dick. Your heads are so far up your own asses you have to brush your tonsils aside to look in the mirror every morning. The only thing a self-obsessed vacuum creates is a dark, cold void, enjoy it as your icy, shriveled hearts waste away to nothing, you fucking selfish psychic vampires. Fuck you.

YES! GO FUCK YOURSELF!

You heard me.

Friday June 23

I like this: Andy Pratt, who self-identifies as a “jazz man” in his artist description, is playing a show at Flask that will be a mix of “jazz, beat poetry, and rock and roll.” So, like, you know I’m a person of a certain age. An age at which, if circumstances are correct and you mention beat poetry, I can only think of one thing. I know, I KNOW, get a new repertoire. In the meantime:

Clara Junken, Everything Turned to Color and Sassquatch are at Blue. Plague is happening in the basement of Aura. Loveship is at Brian Boru. Johnnyswim is at the State Theatre. Spose, Cam Groves, God.Damn.Chan and Shane Reis are at PCMH. Heiss, Daze Inn and DHost are at Flask. Tumbledown Saints are at Salvage. The Joshua Medrano Jazz Trio are at Dogfish.

It’s the battle for Memphis: Do you go see King Memphis at Slab or do you go see Memphis Lightning at Bayside Bowl?

Hi Duke is throwing down funk tunes at Oxbow.

Jesse Ahern and the Roots Rock Rebel Revue, Matt Charette and the Truer Sound, Port City Saints and Classy on Occasion are all at Live at 212 tonight.

The charming Dupont Brothers are at OLS with Her Crooked Heart. I loved seeing the Dupont Brothers live, I didn’t love whatever material was available on spotify as much as I enjoyed seeing them live, but whatever, it’s like tits and ass: you don’t get both, right. But I have this problem with artists sometimes, you know, they’re sort of lit in a very flattering way that obscures a lot of things about them; you go to the meet and greet after the show and you’re like, ok, so this is what you actually look like. Hm. So when I was watching the Dupont Brothers, I was like, hey these guys seem to get it, and I kind of figured us for peers, but then they stepped off the stage and we chatted for a second and I was basically like holy shit, these fellas are just ever so slightly on the other side of being teenagers. WHICH IS ALL TO SAY that they seem to have a sort of weary-yet-optimistic wisdom that belies their age. What a pointless story, let’s move on.

SPACE Gallery hosts JE Sunde, Caroline Cotter and Starcrossed Losers. JE Sunde’s album cover where he’s just holding a big bunch of beets is like, everything to me. Primarily because I also love beets, but also because the images stands in such stark contrast to what typically goes on an album cover.

Saturday June 24

Allagash is holding its annual street fair today and it says that “local musicians will be playing on the stages” but it doesn’t say who or when. Who cares though you go to this for the beer right?

Flask has its tea dance Flannel at 4pm.

UFF is hosting a fundraiser for Growing Roots, a Christian missionary project from a church in South Carolina. Hannah Daman and the Martelle Sisters play. Then later they play again at Dogfish.

Blue has jazz. Magic Eight Ball is doing a tribute to Tom Waits at St. Lawrence Arts. DJ Revolve is at Brian Boru. Aura has Three Dog Night because what in the actual fuck.

Matt Miner, the writer of the new GWAR comic will be at Coast City Comics doing a cover signing - later, Covered in Bees and Gwello are at Bayside Bowl and you might expect them to do some GWAR covers, because.

Snowhaus, Wedding Camp, Burr and Amiright? are at SPACE Gallery. T Sisters and Iron Eyes Cody are at OLS. King Memphis is at Easy Day in SoPo.

El Grande, Fat Knuckle Freddy and The O’Harrows are at PHOME

Live at 212 breaks the metal mold and is hosting a hip hop show tonight with Ock Cousteau, Ill by Instinct, Stay on Mars and Peace out Pat.

Sunday June 25

Slab has Grateful Dead covers from A Band Beyond Description.

Aura… you know what, fuck it, I’m not even going to bother with this nonsense.

Usually I reserve this space to tell you how much I love you and care about you but since we’ve broken up I actually feel pretty liberated. Sometimes a breakup can really do that for you, make you feel empowered, like you can do anything. And I’m pretty sure I can do anything, so let’s clear this shit out, get your shit man. No, get your shit, it’s over there. To the left. To the left, to the left, everything you own in the box to the left. In the closet that's MY stuff, yes If I bought it please don't touch, and keep talking that mess, that's fine - but could you walk and talk at the same time? And it's my my name that is on that tag so remove your bags let me call you a cab. Standing in the front yard telling me how I'm such a fool, talking about how I'll never ever find a man like you, you got me twisted. You must not know 'bout me. You must not know 'bout me. I could have another you in a minute, matter fact he'll be here in a minute, baby. You must not know 'bout me. You must not know 'bout me. I can have another you by tomorrow, so don't you ever for a second get to thinking you're irreplaceable.