On the third day of an alcohol, caffeine, fat and sugar binge in the name of the winter solstice and some folks' savior, I'm feeling lethargic, unhealthy, dirty and startlingly unattractive. This is the stuff New Year's resolutions are made of. All I want to do is eat raw foods, spend four hours in the gym and try to save my internal organs from becoming completely enrobed in a protective layer of sweet, fatty tissue. In spite of all that, I'm going tonight. And you probably should too.
Friday night's Living Room Series singer-songwriter lineup at the Meadowlark - which read like a who's who of Denver musicians - drew a predictably seam-bursting crowd to the intimate venue. Of course, had everyone on the bill simply brought a couple of friends, the bar would have easily been at capacity and the showcase would have had the usual mutual admiration society vibe. This, perhaps, was part of the problem.
Forgive me, for I have sinned. It's been nearly two weeks since our last makeout. I'm sure you've probably moved on by now, found others to make out with and forgotten me completely, and I don't blame you. All I can say in my defense is something you undoubtedly already know -- that family emergencies have a powerful proclivity to clarify priorities and put things in perspective. Getting one of those phone calls is like being awakened from a wet dream by a bucket of ice water, poured over your h
When we made out yesterday, I told you about how to get Wentworth Kersey's new CD for the price of a cup of coffee. In response to that, I received several incisive and insistent questions, such as: "Huh?" "Wha?" "Why?" and "Is that your hand on my thigh?" So I thought I'd share a bit of my conversation with Jeffrey Stevens, one half of the enigmatic duo known as Wentworth Kersey (Joe Sampson makes up the other half), to further elucidate this, um, marketing plan. Read on.
