In lighter news, ever-hip Village Voice decides that Beat the Devil's lead singer is Mishka Shubaly. If you don't know the band, or know Mishka HIMself, lines like the following may not provide humor:

You wanna get there right as a Beat-the-Devil set begins, because half the fun in seeing this volatile NYC jazz-folk-blues-punk outfit lies in watching the unfamiliar react the first time lead singer Mishka Shubaly opens her mouth. Typical reaction: shock and awe. She looks tiny and jovial (especially surrounded by her menacing, dudely bandmates), but goddamn can she ever shriek, alternating jazzy, evocative moans (she's inspired Billie Holiday comparisons, and for once they don't sound totally ridiculous) with a nuclear-grade, paint-evaporating, continent-shifting howl loaded with more volume, rage, and pathos than the entire Ozzfest lineup combined.

For the record, Shilpa Ray is BTD's lead singer (and she can wail, that much is true). But Mishka is one of the 'dudely' musicians to her side, and has been a manly man for most (if not all) of his life. Here's the band. Can you tell which one is which?

UPDATE: Okay, they fixed it, but I thought it was funny while it lasted.

Everything is confirmed for our closing on Thursday afternoon. I have scheduled almost all the utilities (everything but the water, the grumpy old lady I talked to wasn't havin' it). Plus I'm happy to report that Optimum Online is indeed available at our new address, despite what the website says. We're moving on Monday and we're also renting a U-haul van to take some precious cargo (cats, birds) across the great divide. I'm a little leery about driving a cargo van, but then it's not mine so who cares? The last time I moved we rented a truck and while trying to make a left-hand turn, my roommate managed to rip the bumper off a passing Lexus. We were white as sheets, the driver was understandably miffed, the cops thought it was hilarious. I waited for a call from truck company, demanding thousands of dollars to repair the car. The call never came. I actually called them at some point to ask about it and they said, "Well, there was no damage to the truck right? So you don't owe anything." It was true, there was only a slight white mark (car paint) on the side of the tire that had rolled over the car's bumper like Bigfoot. It's a wonder people don't rent trucks and damage cars all the time. You'd think the Black Label Bike Club would get on this and start clearing the way for Critical Mass every month.

There's still a lot of packing to do, a lot of throwing out of stuff too. There's a clothes drop box on the corner of Grand Ave and Putnam, just a couple blocks from my house. I dumped a bunch of old clothes the other night. I wish there was a similar box nearby for all the books I need to dump. I'd like to take them to Housing Works or something, but I'll probably put them out on the stoop for a couple days and toss what doesn't get picked up. Hurry now and pick up such exotics selections as the abridged Moby Dick or my collection of Calvin and Hobbes, which I am regretfully parting with at this late date. I am, however, keeping all the Bloom County.

Just one pile of crap to add to the rest

Time is running out! Did I tell you people that some guy came over to my home the other day and inventoried all our stuff? I've often wondered how much crap I've accrued over the past 6 years in this house, well, now I know. We've got something like 1600 cubic feet of stuff. A portion of that is my girlfriend's apartment but she doesn't really have much stuff at all. I mean, it pales in comparison to the huge pile that is my apartment. I forgot about things like the two pianos (one real, one electric) the combo organ (with amp), the many heavy guitar amps, the many books, the several tables, the countless chairs. 1600 cubic feet! Of course, half of that is just Mr Bones.

Actually, they didn't count Mr Bones in the inventory, but you get the idea. Every mover I've talked to explains what a huge move this will be, how a squadron of former Russian sailors will be dispatched in a cargo plane to carry my stuff the two miles to the new place. I finally found a place that seems to offer the best deal (I'll reserve the commercials until after the move happens), but it's still more than the human mind can bear.

We're slowly getting the deal together, changing addresses, getting insurance, raising credit card limits. But we still don't have a closing date. Until we secure this, it's all theory. The title company is dicking around on a couple of issues, I am trying not to obsess about it every second. But it's hard not to, considering so much depends on everything happening in a very short period of time. Awk!

Okay, let's focus on the positive: MOTICO is on stage this evening at 8PM, nicely coinciding with the Open Bar. We have some new songs which have been coming together quite nicely. The Lyric sin one song are still a little up in the air but so far they seem to concern the validity of the hypoallergenic cat, the obsolescence of the card catalog, and whether theater people are really as fun as they want us to think they are. Topicality is our middle name, folks! Please come out to the gig if you can. I might have a coronary before we get to play out again.