icepack

A short week now meant a long weekend then. What did that vacay bring? Time to reflect — on the storm that popped a blowhole through my office, a drama of hidden fliers (Kleopatra — grand opening)and presumed-lost notes to self ("talk to Gregg Foreman") that, in its cleanup, allowed me entree to every local CD and cassette I'd stacked strategically for six years. Translux, Perils of Pauline, Lenola, etc. Even if the hairstyles were wack, I still luv your doggone cassettes. It also brought me to ruminate on those confessions I'd been stuffing into a box at Front and South whose contents are currently on display in mason jars at 3rd Street Gallery. Fuck. If I'da known they'd go public, I wouldn't have written "Suck my dick! Love A.D." all over 'em. So before the rest come spilling out, I thought I'd own up to my deepest secrets. Like the one that reads, "I pray, I pray the Art Museum makes the Rocky statue its own." Or: "Send note to M. Nutter. Run, Michael, run." Or: "I so love every song that Scot Sax ever wrote." Or: "Frank Rizzo Jr. got married? I just heard my heart break." I better get my shit offa www.grouphug.us fast. WHOWHATWHERE: We did not spy Jessica Simpson backstage o' th' Tweeter at her man, John Mayer's, gig. But I did get back that 8x10 I took with Pete Yorn at AKA. (Man, I always make the same stupid face when I stand next to rock guys named "Pete." Tork. Burns. Donnelly. Fuck.) And you — yes, you kids that got pictures taken with Yorn when he visited Mike Hoffman's shoppe, your Yorn Live at AKA CDs are burned and ready to go. And no, AKA's Bryan Mickle didn't take part in this tomfoolery, busy as he was booking muso scribes Francis Davis and Robert Christgau for a special Oct. 8 reading at the store. Somehow a praiseful thing I wrote about New Jersey's In the Fur got them to use my quote as the name of their debut CD, Magnificent Designs. I'm flattered. But I am the guy what told Trent Reznor to lose an inch on his Nails ("Don't be a size queen," I told him) and Alex O to think positive ("Say Yeah! Not Clap Your Hands and Say Eh."). Either way, Fur get Magnificent Sept. 9 at the Troc. Out of his league: Who knew that when I got that scary Godhead CD in the mail, it had come courtesy Phillies shortstop Jimmy Rollins' new Cement Shoes Records? That explains the squooshing of tobacco chaw in the background. Tony Sparacino just opened his own new shoes shop at 137 S. 13th so to keep all his Ben Sherman clothes company. It looks as if the former owner of J.C.Dobbs, Kathy James, is in on the reunion of her former rock hot spot (and we do mean former: Is Pontiac even open anymore?) taking place Oct. 7 at Smokey Joe's (afternoon gig) and World Café Live. "Bob Beru is not involved," says James of the Beru Revue frontman we'd heard was part of the Dobbs reunion. Kathy and Bob's hair always did look so much the same — anyone could make that mistake. "Kathy and me have been going on a musician scavenger hunt," says Randy Dance, the Dobbs regular aiding James. Contrary to rumors,the deal is not quite done on the sale of the "venerable nightlife institution" (to quote owner Philip Cohen) that is Five Spot and its adjoining space, The Griffin. Currently recovering in Philly from a bad motorcycle accident, Cohen did confirm both spots are for sale — as one, as separates — but that nothing will happen before Five's 10th anniversary on Oct. 29. It's official — no one really cares about Club Kama Sutra as long as it stays in Allentown's neighbor Coopersburg. Kama nearly had a problem with the law until, reports Redhead from CKS, that Borough Council's VP said that "the parties, while disagreeable to some residents, could be entirely within the law ... those people's business and nobody else's." Bye CKS! As for sex you can care about, comic Danny Ozark — loved by tranny/bi/gay/SM dudes for his frank sex open mic, Notebooks, at Bar Noir Sept. 11 — is now hawking ad space for Passional mag. Danny better sell or Kali Morgan'll whup his ass. With Lord Whimsy's Affected Provincial's Almanack out, Erik Bader — another Philadelphia Independent scribe who likes graphs — is right busy. There's the book titled Mike and Me about losers from N.J. who befriend Michael Stipe, and he's pursuing a column he'll call "New Comics Wednesday" — the day new comics come out. Takers? Yo. 'Membermember in April I dropped an exclusive 'bout Antoine Fuqua and Marky Mark'd be shooting Shooter here in September? Watch Del Ave.'s docks, Independence Park and the periphery of the Ital Market; Wahlberg isn't done spreading his Philly seed so to speak. Though it's throwing its autumn season opener Sept. 8 at Sansom St.'s Social Club — the place I hired out for my high school graduation ball — PaperStreet isn't just for partying anymore. They got a "concert company" debuting with Spank Rock at the Troc Sept. 22. In unrelated news, Live Nation booker Geoff Gordon will start serving mojitos at every TLA gig. Bar manager Michael Hans — start muddling mint leaves, man. Sike. Before summer ends, I want to mention Larry Kozek. Anastasia Goldman, his daughter, clued me into the passing of the legendary Larry "Rags" who died at Smithfield State Correctional Institution at age 58. Though convicted and sentenced to life in prison in 1976 for the murder of Bob Scholl — a partner in the California Earthquake shop co-owned by DJ Bobby Startup — before all the awfulness, "Rags" was a Philly hipster in the late '60s and early '70s. Imagine Sean Agnew with a murder rap instead of a silly stalker site — that's Larry. Goodnight Rags.