If you must hate someone, if you must point a finger of blame, if you must direct the seething waves of unspeakable anger that have been washing over you since hearing the news that the Rolling Stones have canceled their Phoenix dates, then the people of Oakland, California, should be your target.
How do I know this? I called Bob Conrad, media director for Fey Concerts, and this is what he said: "They had three sold-out nights in Oakland--it's a gangbusters market for them--and there was demand for a fourth night. That made the routing to Phoenix difficult, if not impossible. And it would have created a situation where they were working seven out of ten nights, and that was more than they were willing to do."
Those poor, tired Stones! Conrad is not giving up hope, however. "What we're trying to do now, we've found a few holes in their itinerary. It sounds weird, but we're trying to get them to shorten their personal vacations by a day. It is quite doable, but it's just a matter of them saying yes."
War of the Super Buses: Here's the deal: In one corner, we have the ass-kicking, supercharged, ultraluxury tour mobile of barely talented but träs sexy Billy Ray Cyrus. In the other corner, we have the wicked, road-eating six-wheeler that shepherds legendary spawn of a legend Hank Williams Jr. around these United States.
Country's biggest bad boys--one old and one new--and toy models of their respective Eagle coaches, coming together for one time and one time only in the grudge race of the century. So what if these things are only six inches long? They'll soon be tearing up the Arizona desert in a dramatic photo essay exclusive on these pages! Will pretty-boy Cyrus' big rig lay waste to Bocephus' all-American high-octane diesel demon? Find out next week in Screed when we take a blistering trip on a country-music transpo summer road massacre you will not soon forget! Go See: Not to be missed is the Dirty Dozen Brass Band, all the way from my favorite city, New Orleans. The Fake McCoys are having a costume party at Congo on Saturday with Tao Jones and Soul Cracker. I know this because they sent me an invite written on a large clown's head. A picture of one, I mean. Call 894-9894 for info.
Be aware that Hucklebones are having a party tonight (Thursday) at Minder Binder's to celebrate the release of their five-song tape, Big Water. The bones, who take the stage at 10 p.m., will no doubt be playing more than five tunes, but show up at 8 p.m. for free food, a pi¤ata and something called "Jim's Treasure Chest O' Fun." Call 894-5562 for info.
It Crawled From the Bins: It's no big news that the Seventies are back. Kids barely old enough to remember rock before MTV are lining up in bell-bottoms and glitter tube tops to shake their booties to the same disco tunes that everyone hated two decades ago. The way I figure it is this: It's only a matter of time before everyone's favorite Seventies show about the Sixties hits the top of the steaming retro-hipness heap.
Of course I'm talking about Happy Days!! Richie! Potsie! Ralph Malph! Mr. and Mrs. C! Joanie! Chachi! Rockin' all week with you! But wait--I know what you're thinking. He's leaving out the most important one of all! Don't worry, that's what I'm building up to, the baddest dude Milwaukee ever produced--okay, a close second to Jeff Dahmer--The Fonz! He was slick, he had all the answers, and I'll bet the whole time he was giving that nebbish Richie advice on how to get to first base, he was doing Joanie and Mrs. C. What a guy!
Naturally, when I saw his big, grinning mug pop out between a Shaun Cassidy album and a copy of Rumours, I was stunned. What could this be? Fonzie Favorites turned out to be 22 cuts of Fifties hits, but the liner notes assured me that the Fonz "has chosen favorite 50s records to share with you." As if that wasn't enough, there was also this teaser: "The last selection on this album is an impressionist track containing the expressions Aaaaay, Cool, Nerd, Sit on It! Listen and learn Fonzie's favorite phrases perfectly."
Perfectly? Maybe if you want to sound like Popeye with Tourette's syndrome. The "impressionist track" consisted of a tape loop of Happy Days incidental music with some guy yelling out the Fonz's phrases intermittently in the background. Bummer.
