Funny, but when some local musos have a show coming up or are about to release a new c.d., I’m their best friend, which, mind you, is not a problem, not in the least.

For starters, I honestly, truly, for-reals enjoy talking to and spending time with a vast majority of the artists I regularly deal with. Even though they don’t call me to, say, have a beer or express any concern for my well-being or, most importantly, help me with my career (am I supposed to land a writing job at The New Yorker all by my damn self, people?!), I’m not fussy. I figure any time with the cool kids is time well spent, and if their music rocks, well, then icing on the cake’s never tasted sweeter. I’m also flattered to think that any press in our little free rag means something – not to sound too corny, but that’s really cool.

However, I guess the guys in Modico must not have heard of our paper. Not too long ago, my esteemed peer at the Star-Telegram, Malcolm Mayhew, sang their praises, and I have to admit, he beat me. For as many gilded column inches as I dedicate to young mod-rock bands like The Burning Hotels and Black Tie Dynasty, the fact that I missed the Modico bus irks the shit outta me, but what can I say: I’ve been writing about music here and nationally for more than 10 years – I’m not afraid to admit defeat, and Mayhew got me good (the bastard). My question to Modico is: Why didn’t y’all call? I guess that when the anonymous music writer for the local alt-weekly writes about you, it’s one thing; when the known local music columnist for the paper of record does, it’s just that much more, uh, better.


But there is one group cut from the same cool cloth as the aforementioned that I’d like to lay claim to having discovered (read: wrote about before Mayhew) – The Color of May. The quartet was all set to celebrate the release of a new c.d. last week at the Aardvark when one of the members, Matt Spivey, became seriously ill and had to be hospitalized. The show has been rescheduled for Saturday, April 8, at the original location (2905 W. Berry St., 817-926-7814), with Blackwater and Fallen. The $10 cover charge also gets concertgoers a copy of the band’s new disc. On the same night, at the other end of the musical spectrum, reggae-rockers Pablo and the Hemphill 7 return after what’s become an annual three-month winter-into-spring hiatus to play the Wreck Room (3208 W. 7th St., 817-348-8303).

The band will also welcome into the Pablo fold (not roll) new bass player Matt Hembree of alt-giants Goodwin and proggers Underground Railroad. On the bill will be fellow fun-time dudes Darth Vato, who in an ultimate musical coup have also landed a spot on the extremely indier-than-thou Wall of Sound Festival, Sunday at 3:30 p.m., at Ridglea Theater. I don’t know about you, but I’m cracking up thinking about how hung over those boys are gonna be when they take the Ridglea stage so early on the Lord’s Day. Don’t call me: I’ll be in Dreamland.

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