I never want to touch an instrument again. It will pass, for sure, and possibly not for the betterment of the human race. But damn that random kid from the Stork club.

It's been years since I've gotten a CD out of the blue and put it on and been this blown away. Frickin' Nathan from El Paso, TX,
just wandered into Oaktown on his solo cross country tour. His booking strategy seems to be to simply show up. He doesnt seem to care,
he's just making songs and playing and whoever hears it hears it. I couldn't stay for his set but we exchanged demos and I got home and put it on and I can't do a stitch of work now because its just so bloody good.

In theory, Steely Dan meets Billy Ocean with a snatch of Pointer Sisters ought not to merit much more than a hipster smirk and some temporary fast food satisfaction. But 'Dirty Bird' successfully bridges the gap between 'joke not a joke' that I try so hard to do with Luxxury (with mixed results, admittedly).
It's easy to be Ween or Fischerspooner, where you've got a neon sign announcing where the laughs should go. And of course any jackass can do sincere, dull melodramatic histrionics  (indeed some critics misinterpret us as being