With a name like a doggy treat and wearing an awesome pair of clogs, Scout Niblett took the stage at Bar Pink on Sunday in front of a few dozen people. To me it was satisfying to see that the singer, mousy and demure, actually does look and act like a “Scout Niblett,” if anyone ever could. Continue reading
Late on Monday nights a few years back, I would always get an increasingly agitated series of texts from a friend:
you coming to tower?
you said you would come this time
if you don’t come to tower one of these times I will pluck out your eyeballs with a toothpick and garnish my martini with them
I’ve never understood the significance of The Casbah’s “Anti-Monday League,” except that the bands are better than average and that it seems to draw the scene. I’ve found that it does not mean drink specials, but scenesters don’t need specials anyway when PBR tall boys are cheaper than water. Looking around, I assumed the bands would be an afterthought for this crowd and that I would be one of the only true Langhorne Slim fans — but then he came on and everyone started shouting the words! I’ve been too judgmental, scene kids. Your taste is exquisite. I’m sorry. Hold me. Continue reading