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Eye on the Scene

From Fester's mailbag:

Let me start by saying that I hate every one of you. No exceptions. Everyone. Every single navel-picking bum-fumbling braindead one of you, every mush-head and drool factory and f—-nut and out-and-out moron out there who's reading this magazine at this very moment (or trying to, at any rate). I loathe you. And yes, grandma, this means you.

But that goes without saying. Because right now, there's someone out there whom I especially hate, and his name is Bry-an Garvey. "Who is Bry-an Garvey, and why do you hate him?"—so you might ask, wiping the accumulated slobber from your lower lip. "Well," I might answer, with infinite patience, "Bry-an is an ass-wipe from somewhere out there in readerland. And Bry-an doesn't like some of the things that Fes-ter says. He even had the gall to write Fes-ter a letter and tell him so."

"But Fes-ter," you might drone on, "you're always saying mean things about people in bands. Shouldn't you be able to take criticism as well as you dish it out?" And then I will answer, tersely, and with rapidly diminishing patience, "No, you mewling teat. Because this is my column. And in my column, I have no obligation to validate any opinions other than my own. Especially not the opinions of stupid people, gurgling half-wit f——— like Bry-an."

So anyway, on to Bry-an's letter. He writes:


I understand you can't give credence to every crap band in the Knoxville area, but perhaps at least once a month you could attend a hole in the wall venue of your choice and check out some local talent instead of bitching about your own laziness. Even if you trash them, it would at least be a mild attempt at journalism."

In the next paragraph, however, he goes on to say that, those lovely egalitarian sentiments notwithstanding, he disliked a) Guest artist B's recent column about Lord Lindsey, and b) Fester's interview with local guitarist Dugan Broadhurst.

And finally, our good friend Bry-an concludes that, "If you really hate everything that bad anyway, perhaps you could farm out the work to some volunteer writers that, talented or not, at least give half a shit.."

Hmmm. Well, to summarize, Bry-an thinks (and I use that word very, very loosely) that Fester is too lazy, and should get out and find more bands to write about; that Fester shouldn't have written about the bands he has written about, though, because apparently Bry-an doesn't like them; and that Fester should go hire someone else to write for him, someone who "gives half a shit," perhaps even someone with a name, oh, say, like Bry-an. And he concludes that should Fester and Emma only adhere to these simple suggestions, "It might make all of our lives a little better."

Well Bry-an, let me tell you what I think: I think your letter sucks, I think your ideas suck, and I think you suck. And your friends, and your dog, and your girlfriend, and your parents—because God knows they're responsible for you breathing our air in the first place. And you know what I think would make all our lives better, Bry-an? I think it would make all our lives better if you were lobotomized and permanently sedated and never, ever, ever, ever allowed to give voice to one of your stupid opinions again.

Oh, and thank you so much for taking the time to write.

Emma's Mailbag

Unlike my dear colleague (and I use that term as loosely as a human being could), I like you guys and gals, especially when you have been kind enough to help save me from my radio blues. The mix tapes and CDs have been pouring into Metro Pulse headquarters, inspiring a thrill (and, to be honest, a little fear 'cos of the whole mail weirdness that's been going around) each time one arrives.

This week, I'd like to give a shout out to one Kevin Saylor (hmmmm. Why does that name sound so familiar?). His handpicked tape of "Socialist Muzak" has been lodged in my car's tape deck for the past week. While I'm not sure what's so socialist about it—there's no anthems to state-run health care or ditties by The Mekons or The Clash—the tunage is most excellent and full of songs I'd never before heard. Like, for instance, my side one faves like Starflyer 59's "I Like Your Photographs," Damien Jurado's "Rehearsals for Departure," and Chagall Guevara's "Violent Blue." Side two picks up the beat with Maggie Estep's "I'm an Emotional Idiot," SFC's "Respect," and Over the Rhine's cover (sort of) of the Beatles' "Blackbird." While I'm not sure what Mr Saylor is implying with his choice of the Estep tune, overall the tape's effect is rather appealing, mellow, moody and somber on the first side, up-tempo, moody and thoughtful on the second. Good stuff.

Keep those packages of tunes coming, kids, and there may just be a bright white t-shirt in your future. Send 'em to: Emma Poptart; c/o Metro Pulse; 505 Market Street; #300; Knoxville, TN 37902. Thanks.


Thursday: Argentinean with The Pinkest Pee at Pilot Light. Pinkest Pee is the aforementioned Dugan Broadhurst project. Should be a trippy aural experience.

Friday: The Cary Fridley Band at Laurel Theatre. Ms Fridley and friends' old-time tunes have long been a favorite with us. For this show, the venue will fit the songs quite splendidly.

Saturday: Slick 57 with The Lovejoys at Pilot Light. While I usually don't like to send folks to the same place twice in one week (yet, this week, it seems to be a motif), Slick 57 is not to be missed. Hard-charging punk country from the Lone Star State.

Sunday: Knoxville Chamber Orchestra at Bijou Theatre. Nothing fits a Sunday afternoon better than classical music.

Monday: Lee "Scratch" Perry with Mad Professor at Blue Cats. Read the story if you need to know why.

Tuesday: Mickey Hart with Bembe Orisha and VAS at Bijou Theatre. Or stay home and listen to your Dead albums.

Wednesday: Tim O'Brien and the Crossing at Blue Cats. We can't sing the praises of O'Brien's bluegrass loudly enough. It's about time you joined the amen corner as well.

—Emma "Motorcycle (Significance of the Pickle) Song" Poptart

November 1, 2001 * Vol. 11, No. 44
© 2001 Metro Pulse