Due to a busy schedule and a stagnant music industry, it’s been tough for me to sustain the amazingly high standard of quality that Your Band Sucks has always strived for (and accomplished, of course). I’ve decided to publish Your Band Sucks only once a month instead of biweekly. Yes, this means half as many Your Band Sucks articles, but they’ll hopefully be twice as good as they otherwise would have been.
I’ll still be writing for you guys every other Wednesday, though: I’ll simply be replacing one Your Band Sucks per month with an AMDB (as I’ve done today). For those of you who think the AMDB sucks, I apologize. You’re wrong, and you’re ugly, but I apologize. I’ll also continue to do front page news updates every other week, as usual. I skipped ‘em last month because I had to move.
Also, you can read much more music writing by your ol’ pal Dr. David Thorpe, FOUR TIMES AS OFTEN, if you check out Boston’s Weekly Dig newspaper. My column, the Burn Unit, is now conveniently online for your perusal! If you like Your Band Sucks, read this also, since it’s the same thing, just more often and in a smaller format.
In other Your Band Sucks new, be sure to pick up Da Capo Press’s 2006 Best Music Writing anthology. You’ll get a big surprise.
Thanks for reading my bullshit all these years!
The singer dove off the stage and crowd surfed in a sort of reverse funeral procession where the person being carried is the only one truly alive. Touching him I felt religious ecstasy and started speaking in tongues and requesting songs that didn't exist.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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