Get In The Ring

So, we finally saw a show at Southpaw where the sound was good. Yep, the Sahara Hotnights were on fine form, cranking out the riffs, and also, but not quite, persuading the crowd to go mentol. Yes, we can see the bits stolen from early Aerosmith, but these were quality riffs - not the really brutal, but not quite compelling riffs you hear on, say The Kills' records. They're infinitely better than The Donnas, who always sounded like Shampoo without the slapper charm.

But we cannot comment on the Everyothers, despite their MP3s stoking up our interest. We assumed that their power pop sound would go down mighty well with a few Brooklyn Lagers. But twas not to be, and we would like to blame that on stupid ass-clown bankers that prevented Gringcorp's companion, a lawyer, from having a night off.

The irony of this was that we have been somewhat immersed in Anonymous Lawyer's blog, which seems to consist of an ever-so-tough hiring partner acting like Donald Trump for an audience of rapt law school students. We think the author makes a reasonable case for how highly-paid service professionals have to be at the beck and call of their clients, and does it very lucidly. And he's a little too sophisticated to use the "we all went through hell, so now it's your turn" argument, which never made sense to Gringcorp when he was swabbing down the showers at an english boarding school (Sidebar - George Monbiot, scourge of snobs, polluters and the Private Finance Initiative, went to Stowe. Who knew?). But if as partner you can indulge in an afternoon's golf at the same time every week, then you should have enough control over your clients to stop your staff getting dumped on every night for three weeeks. But you indulge them. Because you've perfected a way to earn hundreds of thousand dollars a year while still being an utter coward.

Tonight, as part of a determined effort to put the Rock back into our Rock Pig Blog, we will be in front of Snow Patrol