So I Saw This Stinky Fingers Tribute Band

Band etiquette is a huge point of contention! Romans, is my understanding of rock show mores correct in that its bad form to play for more than forty minutes when you're not the final band of a three-band bill? (Classier bands don't go over a half-hour, right?) Wait, wait! Let me explain why, just to make sure we're all on the same page. I quote from the Taytyme Big Book of Rock Music for Rockers: eh-hem. "Starting really late and playing too long makes you a fucking dickhead, asshole. It forces the last band go on so late that all the people who saw your band have left after tiring of being in a shitty club all night.

Is it Ego that makes bands ignore the well-being of other bands? No, surely not! Surely such bands just haven't timed their songs. That's it. Well, look. I have a few tips for Stinky Fingers. I've seen them play a lot and have come to the conclusion that they need a man on the outside. Gentlemen, I am that man.

Stinky Fingers believes that each of their songs is only two minutes long. They are dead wrong about this, but it explains why they think they can play fifteen songs all at the same show. Guys, you can probably get away with eight or nine if you start on time and don't jam. Now if you want to play fifteen songs, you will need to play them very fast and probably organize a medley or two. Perhaps compose some sort of quodlibet out of several of your less-inspired tunes; you know, the whole "two birds with one stone" thing. Your only other option is to form a second band called Stinky Fingers Jr. and to book shows for both of your bands to play together. Let me know how it goes! I'll probably be at the Goldrush when it goes down.

Next stop, Hollywood!

Let me guess. You've probably always wondered what Dave Cloud gets at the store. I used to be in your shoes, man. But what if I told you that I recently got a new pair of shoes?

Due to the burgeoning success of Taytyme the blog (somebody told me they read it once), Taytyme the guy has decided to branch out and create Taytyme the show. It will be called "REALITAY TEE-VAY" and be on HBO. Each episode will be about 10 minutes long and be presented in little two-minute vignettes. There will be regular features like "Cloud Watch," where a camera secretly follows Dave Cloud into the grocery store to find out what he eats. In the segment called "Guess Who's Talking Shit About Keith Lowen," everyday people that you know will say funny things about Nashville's premier bass personality. You didn't know that they thought that too! Of course I'll conduct man-on-the-street interviews that elicit confounding answers to life's difficult questions, and we'll find out "Who's Getting Douged at the Red Door" and "Where's Andy Willhite Sleeping?"

For the pilot episode, we'll film a game show segment called "Betting on Bones." We'll get a few high-rollers (like the Pink Spydrz or something) to place high-dollar bets on what jam the Bones Explosion will be kicking when our cameras roll up to the 5 Spot on Sunday afternoon. "I got 500 on Dead Flowers!" "I'll see your Dead Flowers and raise you House of the Rising Sun!"

What do you think? I know I'd watch it, even if only for the dreamy host. You guys should leave ideas for other segments in the comments! Oh, and just so you know, Professor Cloud bought a 20-ounce Mountain Dew and two boxes of Nilla Wafers.

An open letter to The Falls City Angels

Hola, amigos! (A Spanish phrase meaning, "I live here.") Well, another weekend has come and gone, so it's time to talk about the previous weekend's Springwater excursion. Is that confusing? I'm talking not about the weekend whose hangover you are currently nursing, but the one before that. I know, it's like how you get paid next week for work you did in the pay-period that ended last week, and you can't figure out what the hell your check means so you either act complacent and keep getting high before work or you raise hell just in case somebody's trying to fuck you. Allow me to preface with a question. Can The Fall City Angels be out-rocked?

Men, the 'Water had it all last Saturday: hard rock and girls gone wild. That's really all you need, right? I mean, give Taytyme hard rock and a couple of girls showing their boobs and he feels completely at home. You know what time it is when shit like that goes down? Its taytyme. But seriously. Quit trying to get me side-tracked, dude. The question was whether or not The Falls City Angels could be out-rocked. I'm afraid the answer is yes. Yes, they can be (out-rocked). Actually, if The Falls City Angels play a show with Rufus Fontain and Valiant Thorr, they can get their ass kicked.

Here are a few recommendations that I have for the Angels after close observation of the work of Rufus Fontain and Valiant Thorr. Falls City, listen up and never be embarrassed on your home turf again.

1) Look more like a motorcycle gang (possibly join MS13). The members of Valiant Thorr wore matching denim vests with big Valiant Thorr patches on the backs. Thanks to this, they were able to quickly recognize each other as bandmates. They also started their set turned around backwards so the audience knew which band they were. Heaven forbid that you rock the shit out of a place only to be mistakenly identified as LYLAS.

2) If the audience seems hesitant to approach the stage, frighten them with a folding chair. Next, stand on the chair, look at the floor, raise your arms, and wordlessly beckon the crowd to you. They will say, "Fuck all other bands, it is time for Valiant Thorr." Hopefully they will say the correct name of your band instead of Valiant Thorr.

3) Talk about the three things that you hate. For example, Valiant Thorr hates Bankruptcy ("that's your fault"), Nature-uptcy ("there's nothing you can do about that"), and Cover-uptcy ("I think you know what I'm talking about").

4) Be more bad-ass than anything in the world. Valiant Thorr has this one down, man.

4) Like Rufus Fontain, allow only Tom to be your myspace friend. This makes you look exclusive and gives fans the impression that telling you how well you played after a show is something they will never forget.

5) Also like Rufus Fontain, purchase a wireless setup for everyone in your band. This way, guitar solos can emanate from the middle of the crowd. You could even walk to the bar in the middle of a song and get yourself another beer instead of asking someone else to do it for you.

6) Drink from a gas can that says "Rock-it Fuel." Remember to freely admit that it's just water, though. This ain't 1987, dude.

7) Install smoke machines and lights that flash in time with the drums in the bottom half of your stacks.

8) And for God's sake, put your foot up on the monitor more, Lance. You look like some kind of queer whose balls don't sweat when he plays guitar. Let 'em breathe, brother!

I have not joined a cult, but have nothing against those who have.

Well, well, well, if it isn't taytyme! I bet that until a few days ago you thought I'd gone and got roped in by the Moonies, or at the very least forgotten about you (which in its own way is a kind of sad, sad "might as well have become a Moonie" sort of scenario). No, friends. I've just been as busy as a slutty little beaver. Here's the what's up:

Last Saturday I forgot about remembering to see Fair Warning, the self-proclaimed "baddest David Lee Roth era Van Halen cover band in the world." However, I did play ping-pong at Melrose Billiards, where I am gaining a reputation as "one of the guys that plays ping-pong here." On a trip to the bathroom between matches (not just the smallest but also the dirtiest bathroom in our fair city, and yes I have on occasion relieved myself at the Springwater S.C.& L.), I daydreamed about the possibility of a cutish lady-person asking to get in on table rotation (winner keeps the table, but you can get in on rotation, see?). Well Moses Malone, if I didn't learn the old lesson about being careful what you wish for! Up to the table she came, all thinking she was badder than Fair Warning and not really meeting the criterion of cuteness. Lady, yes. But more up the alley of the brothers, you know? She brought a certain level of intensity to the game, but her total lack of discipline made her easy prey for a seasoned intimidator such as myself. By the way, have you ever looked at a Victoria's Secret catalog? Stay with me here, people. You know those "sexy underwears" made of three strings connected above the butt's crack by an engagement ring? Well she did, and she was sporting them with low-cut jeans that became more unsettling each time she bowed to retrieve an errant ping-pong ball. Not even The Snuggler shows his trunk with such abandon! Brother, the crowd at Melrose is nuts!

On Harding Road between the I-65 and Danby there's a two-story house that has a Deer's head mounted on the outside of it. Like on the top floor inbetween two windows on the front side of the house. I tell you what, brothers: I would like to play the drums for the band that practices there, even if they sound like Nirvana.

OK, just kidding. No, not about the deer head, dummy! That's for real! I'm kidding about being so indiscriminate about who I play with that even a Nirvana-loving band would be up my alley (my proverbial alley, perverts). Look, even if you have once-wild game displayed where Old Glory might normally reside on a more by-the-book domicile, I will stomp on your stinky little toes if you think Nirvana is awesome.