Welcome to SIU-Carbondale's weekly radio show.  I'm your student moderator Robert Vine, here in the studio with Salem musicians Neal Anderthal and "Three Hands" Dan, two members of the No Rhythm Trio.  They've been ripping up the jazz scene at world-renowned venues the ABC and Becky's Bar up in Salem. 

I had a chance to hear them play at the Saluki Haus last night (which we students here affectionately refer to as Club K-9), and they're scheduled to open for Two Dog Night at Shyrock Auditorium* on Saturday.   How's it going, guys?

Neal:  Grunt.
Dan:  Awesome, dude. Sorry B.C. couldn't make it, he has a hangover, er...hangnail, yeah.

RV:  You guys had people running out the door!

Neal:  Oog.  Gabapentin.
Dan:  Yeah, heh, heh.  It makes you wonder, do they hate us, or are they rushing to tell their friends?

RV:  Maybe both.  So let me ask you a question about your musical style...Rough jazz, what's that?

Neal:  Grubble?
Dan:  Well, you've heard of smooth jazz?  We're more edgy.  We don't try to smooth anything out.  It's all about edginess.  We're post-modern heptagonal cats, can you dig it?

RV:  A dodecahedron would be edgier. 

Dan:  What?

RV: No, actually I saw you guys play at the club last night and I was kind of embarrassed for you.  You got kind of a chilly reception.

Neal:  Grrrrr...
Dan:  Well, you know, it happens sometimes, we're cool.  People just don't understand the extent of our coolness yet.  We radiate the cool, people get hypothermia and think it's our fault they're not wearing coats indoors.

RV:  Well, from the grumbling around me it seemed like it had more to do with you guys not playing in sync with each other or any kind of time signature or rhythm.  It sounded really shaky, like you needed a lot more practice.

Neal:  Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha!
Dan (laughing):  Time signature!  With all dude respect, my man, you're missing the entire point!   Anyone can  play with rhythm.  That's boring.  We tried that when we first got together and it was making us all get angry at each other, so we decided to just relax and let it flow.  What you hear today is the natural evolution of that process; a band that dares to defy convention.

RV: So the fact that you sound like a bunch of pathetic amateurs is all part of your act?

Dan:  Listen, Robert, we're on a mission.  Very much like that great band of yore, the Blues Brothers, maybe you've heard of them. Everyone should have a mission in life; I have a strong sense that yours is to grow really long hair, pilot a hydrogen-filled blimp, and sing rock and roll songs.  Our mission is to show the world that rhythm is overrated. 

RV: And originality? Is it overrated, as well?

Neal:  Ugga chug.  Chug ugga.
Dan:  Huh?

RV:  I have knowledge you stole the bass line for your latest number from a local musician.  Plagiarism.

Neal:  Awwwwwwww!
Dan:  No, no, no! 

RV:  He told me himself.  He even played the line for me, better than your bassist did, I might add.

Dan:  My man, my man.  You obviously didn't understand him.  I know the dude -- he probably got done strumming and said, "Played ya a rhythm"--I  know with the lisp words can be a little hard to decipher, but that's obviously what he said.  He would never accuse us of stealing his tune.

RV:  Nevertheless, he could at least play me a rhythm, as anyone who purports to be a musician should be able to do.  What's your guys' excuse?

Neal:  Glabargle!
Dan:  Dude, we deconstruct rhythm.  It's our calling as postmodern musicians.  All the top philosophers, from Plato to Kaelin refer to truth and beauty.  What greater source of truth and beauty is there in the world but music?  What is truth?  What is beauty?  What is music?  We aim to liberate music from the tyranny of rhythm, the shackles of...whatever, the handcuffs of...stuffiness.  If we can do that, if by our edgy, rough, revolutionary coolness we can bring joy to just one person...Well, I consider our band a cause well-warranted.

RV:  Quite frankly, you guys are terrible and I'll be happy if you'd go somewhere else and liberate us from your music!  See you round.

Neal (suddenly coherent):  See you, square!
Dan:  Touche, Andy, touche!

RV:  That's all the time we have for this evening.  No Rhythm Trio at Shyrock Saturday at 7, everybody.  Consider yourselves warned!

* Not to be confused with Shryock Auditorium

This goes out to the effervescent Wrangler of Chess.  My homies the No Rhythm Trio have put together a little something inspired by the bass groove on your site:

Fail-Safe Investment

Thanks to the U.S. Postal service, my retirement is secure!  Soon I shall purchase a mere $20,000 worth of FOREVER stamps and in thirty years when the price of a postage stamp has skyrocketed to $25, people will be clamoring to buy them from me at $24.99 apiece!!!  I will sell them all and pocket a cool $1.2 million!!!

On Basement Pond*

In my self-imposed exile, poring and pondering over my long "to do" list, I poured myself a third bowl of Frosted Marshmellow Turkey Crunch.  I poured poorly, it would seem, as I pored and pondered, for in my reverie, I spilled half the box of cereal on my toes and the table which they rested upon. 

I'd been swamped lately with job, church, Rotary, and theater responsibilities and didn't seem to have any left over energy or motivation for writing Xanga entries.

Instead, I had endeavored to train my feet to accomplish tasks usually assigned to the hands:  writing, typing, carrying objects, playing piano, holding silverware, gesturing, etc.  One never knows when this kind of skill will come in "handy".  Once I realized how difficult it actually was, however, I quit immediately and decided instead to use my ears.  Finding this arguably even more challenging and in fact quite dangerous, owing to numerous bruises, bumps, and lacerations, I concluded that hands were really a great invention after all and perhaps I should not inconvenience myself by neglecting to use them for their intended purposes.

It occurred to me that one thing is greatly lacking in our American drinking fountains, and that is of course, a drinking fountain attendant... A polite, articulate individual (dressed in a tuxedo) who presses the button or steps upon the lever to activate the fountain, equipped with a towel to dab the drinker's mouth of excess water.  This service would set our drinking fountains apart from those of other countries, "a world ahead of the rest of the world," so to speak.

I also read some intriguing news in the latest edition of Science Says:  "Biologists are now analyzing the potato for clues about the early development of one of our most precious senses.  'It makes perfect sense,' says Less Nessman, Ph.D.  'Genetically speaking, the potato as it exists today is very much the same as it was 3.5 billion years ago.  By studying the primitive eye of the potato, we can gain an understanding of how vision evolved among Earth's earliest life-forms.  Placing a potato upon the eye is a well-known home remedy for welder's flash-burn; we think that on contact the potato imparts its primitive stem cells to the human eye, which then heal it by replacing damaged corneal and conjunctival epithelium.  These same stem cells play a role in the formation of potato eyes themselves, which may be found on almost any part of the outside of a potato, including celebrity potato Mr. Potato Head™ himself.'"

My solitudge, I mean solitude, cannot last forever.  Basement Pond is sadly no more, and has not been for several months, but at least the dirt remains.

I am a bit of a social deerfly, so it's off now to the Cow Festival, where deaf choirs will be signing and security will try to keep the groundhogs from disrupting the celebrations.  Wish me luck!

* weirdness alert!

Dear Stupidocles,

You need rockin' guitar solo to make song about Elvis progeny not so boring!  Just a tip from the Trip.

--Trip Tuh Phan 

Happy Easter!

The Resurrection of Jesus Christ assures believers that all will end well for them, despite the sorrows and troubles they may experience in this life. 

The old hymn below provides sort of a musical metaphor to that, in that it spends most of its time in a minor key, but resolves happily at the end of each verse.  It's certainly not as upbeat a tune as "Christ the Lord is Risen Today" but I like it, and the lyrics.  The cadence and regality of the hymn remind me of a madrigal. 

I recorded only five verses of music, so for those millions of you sure to be singing along...unfortunately, verse 5 is the absolute worst one to end on, so you MUST play the music a second time through to accompany verses 6-9 and then just repeat verse 1 at the end for that "full circle" effect.

O Sons and Daughters of the King

A Coincidence?  I Think Not.  That is, I do think, it's just that I think it's not a Coincidence.

As I was pulling out of the parking lot of the Firefly Grill in Effingham last night after a fantastic dinner, the very first song "randomly" selected by my iPod shuffle was "Firefly" by the Smalltown Poets!

AND NOW, A WORD FROM...

Insect Riddles

These mysterious insects three
shall each impart a clue to thee
suggesting their identity.

Can you guess their names?

#1

"I really OUGHT to exist!"

#2

"I am CAPABLE and HAVE POTENTIAL to exist."

#3

"If only I existed, I..." - (you finish the sentence)

Aarp!

Time rolls on, like an ever-flowing stream.  I knew I was getting older, but it really didn't hit me until I received this card in the mail last week: