LOCAL 518
Sense of Urgency
Self-released; 2009

I suppose I’m getting wistful with age, because I find myself wishing I had a certain stack of records I’d grown out of and sold before moving across the country a few years back.

Stanley Clarke; Weather Report; Zappa; Tony Williams Lifetime; Mahavishnu Orchestra, Bill Laswell… They were all products of a brief though impressionable foray into jazz fusion and progressive rock. I can see their covers in my mind’s eye and can still hum many of the tunes to myself in moments of weakness, which at least offers me some solace for not having the funds to repurchase the bulk of them.

So it’s with something of a thrill that I put on Local 518’s Sense of Urgency, an intense album that distills the sound of a few years of my youth into one splendid recording. I’m pretty familiar with this quintet (I once accused them, kindly, of swallowing metronomes) and Pastorius’ other project, Elephantgun, but wasn’t fully prepared for the taut, single mindedness of this sophomore album. And there is a single mind at work here, one shared by bassist David Pastorius, Al Brodeur (guitars; keys), drummer Bjarne Kjaer, percussionist Anthony Darmana, and principal keyboardist Dave Hoag.

For all its restless virtuosity and polyrhythmic flights of fancy, Urgency is an impressively focused affair, its enthusiasm and spirit precariously hugging the brim of a full glass on a three-legged table. If one note or beat were out of place, the whole thing would overflow to create an unholy mess — the unhinged excess their rock fusion genre is often faulted for exhibiting, if not actively promoting.

But there the glass stays, vibrating, but still miraculously intact while Urgency darts madly around the room chasing flurried influences. There’s hard rock’s boom and rumble on opener “Lebanon,” bossa nova (“Decertification”), calypso (“Dune Buggy”), and the jazzed-up Cuban son of “Paredes.” Controlled chaos drives much of the album — rhythms and bridges are locked into, disassembled, and tossed up in the air, only to be reconstructed in wholly different, though improved form. By the time track 9 winds down, you’re left somewhat breathless, but adrenalized enough to absorb the brilliance of another 20-minutes worth of stunning original material.

Sense of Urgency is impeccable on many levels, but succeeds, above all, for its surgical implantation of a soul — a needed human impress — onto a densely packed mathematical grid.

View videos and listen to song samples by visiting www.davidpastorius.com or www.myspace.com/local518. Copies of Sense of Urgency can be purchased from www.cdbaby.com.

Passafire

Calling Savannah, GA home, Passafire was formed in 2003 by students attending Savannah College of Art and Design.

After performing on a stage outside Atlanta’s Hi Fi Buys Amphitheater in 2006 where hybrid rock band Pepper were opening for 311, a member of Passafire slipped Pepper a copy of the band’s self-titled debut. Pepper had just founded the independent LAW Records with plans to selectively recruit and nurture bands they discovered while on tour, and they were immediately impressed by Passafire’s professionalism, stage presence, and memorable tunes.

The reggae-influenced quartet — comprised of guitarist/vocalist Ted Bowne, bassist Will Kubley, keyboardist Adam Willis, and drummer Nick Kubley — released the 12-track Everyone on Everynight through LAW in September of 2009. The follow-up to their sophomore album Submersible, which was recognized by iTunes as one of the “Top 10 Best Reggae Albums of 2007,” Everyone debuted at #1 on the iTunes reggae chart, and ranked #6 on Billboard’s.

Noted for their melodic, hook-laden songs, Passafire have since developed their sizeable fan base by logging thousands of miles across the U.S. (particularly in the southeast), and the band live on the road, playing live throughout the year. Bowne doesn’t mind the grueling schedule, and says that touring is the best way to keep the Passafire buzz going. “What keeps it fun and exciting is the people we meet and places we get to see,” he adds.

This month sees them bring their brand of rollicking dub and dancehall to the beachside when they perform at Sports Page Live on Saturday, July 10.

Sports Page Live is located at 220 Hwy. A1A in Satellite Beach. Presale tickets are $7; $10 and $12 18+ on day of show. To purchase tickets, call DeutermanProductions.com at (321) 508-5141, or log onto www.ticketmaster.com. Check out the band’s website at: www.passafiretheband.com.

The Hep Cat Boo Daddies

Hep Cat Boo Daddy 1: a musician that employs the combined styles of rock, blues, rockabilly, psychobilly, surf and funk to create music comprised of fast, aggressive guitar, driving bass lines and hard hitting back beats; esp: Joel DaSilva (guitar and vocals), Sean “Evil” Gerovitz (bass) and Randy Blitz (drums) 2: a small dried banana husk commonly used in Antigua and the West Indies to treat the disagreeable effects that follow heavy consumption of alcohol.

With frontman Joel DaSilva’s mix of both Chicago and Texas-style blues guitar, as well as his wide variety of influences combined with Evil’s driving bass lines and Randy Blitz’s hard-hitting backbeats (and old-school New York punk rock attitude), this has quickly gained a reputation as one of the best on the circuit.

Following on the heels of debut CD Long Time Comin’ and their DVD “Invasion of the Hep Cat Boo Daddies,” they’ve just released their sophomore effort entitled hotrodsexgod, which captures the raw and powerful live vibe of HCBD. It features a stirring blend of rock, funk, surf, swing, rockabilly, and blues, inspired by heroes in the business and unrecognized friends. “We put it in a big ol’ pot and stir it up, and that’s us,” says DaSilva.

In their impressive 11-year career, the trio (known as simply “The Boo Dads” to affectionate fans) have shared the stage and played with the likes of Stax legend William Bell; B.B. King; Jimmie Vaughan; North Mississippi All-Stars; ZZ Top; the Strokes; the White Stripes; Lee Rocker from the Stray Cats; the Black Keys; Rev. Horton Heat; Johnny Winter; Edgar Winter; Buddy Guy; the Fabulous Thunderbirds; Steve Winwood; the Black Crowes; Leon Russell; Galactic; the Smithereens; Steven Tyler; Johnny Lang, and many more.

The Hep Cat Boo Daddies play the Beach Shack (1 Minutemen Cswy.; Cocoa Beach; 783-2250) on July 24 at 8 p.m. To find out more about the band and to hear song samples, visit: www.boodaddies.com.

Gov’t Mule
• By Kimberly Stone •
www.beachinmommies.com

Gov’t Mule is a multimillion selling Southern rock band with five Grammy nominations currently touring as far away as Tel Aviv and coming as close by as Cocoa. Founding member Warren Haynes, who is currently in three other bands (Phil Lesh & Friends, The Allman Brothers Band, and The Dead), is regarded as the 23rd Greatest Guitarist by Rolling Stone magazine. Along with co-founder and award-winning drummer Matt Abts, bassist Jorgen Carlsson, and keyboardist Danny Louis, Gov’t Mule have released an amazing 14 albums (many of them live recordings), not counting every concert recording that’s made available online after each performance. It’s no wonder their “By A Thread World Tour” is seen as one of the most anticipated concert tours of 2010.

The blues and funk-based group was formed in 1994 by Allman Brother Band bassist Allen Woody and singer/songwriter Haynes. By adding drummer Abts, they perfected a tight trio sound that has sold out venues worldwide and has amassed a rapidly growing fan base in search of musical clarity. However, only months after releasing their third studio album, Life Before Insanity, tragedy struck when Woody was found dead at the age of 44. Woody left behind a wife, Jenny, and a daughter, Savannah, both of whom helped create The Savannah Woody Educational Fund. It took months for Abts and Haynes to formally regroup, but after a six-month period of working together, the Swedish-born Carlsson was chosen as bassist in 2003. But the band is also noted for an unofficial revolving-door policy, which has seen them enlist the help of Phish’s Page McConnell, Victor Wooten of the Flecktones, a few Black Crowes and Widespread Panic members, Les Claypool, and George Porter of the Meters.

L.A.-based AEG Live is presenting an August 1 benefit concert for EARTH (Entertainers Against Ruining Their Home) Awareness Organization of Brevard with Gov’t Mule as headliner supported by Jackie Greene and the Bone Dogs in Cocoa Village’s Riverfront Park Amphitheater. EARTH Awareness is a local nonprofit that raises funds for art, music, and drama programs in Central Florida schools. There will be food, beverages, and arts and crafts vendors for this family-friendly event, which begins at 4 p.m. Buying a ticket supports local arts and education and ensures you an unforgettable evening at one of the most beautiful venues on the Space Coast with one of the most talented bands touring today.

For more information on Gov’t Mule go to: www.mule.net. Cocoa Village’s Riverfront Park is located at 430 Delannoy Avenue in dowtown Cocoa. Tickets are available through Ticketmaster and are $19 presale, fees not included. To find out more, visit www.ticketmaster.com.

GBH
• By Kimberly Stone •
www.beachinmommies.com

Formed in 1978 in Birmingham, England, GBH has given the world over 40 studio and live recordings, EPs, singles, box sets, DVDs and videos over the past 30 years. What started as an UK82 style band in the early ’80s has evolved into an undiluted form of punk rock that still carries a devoted and growing fan base today, one that continues to pour into small venues for the band’s many shows.

Thriving on audience involvement and energy, each GBH show is as different as it is dynamic. Their career has put primary focus on relating to the crowd. It’s part of the old-school Joe Strummer ideal of identifying with fans on their level that both gives GBH the rabid following it deserves and allows them to continue to tour the world to sold-out audiences. Original members Colin Abrahall (vocals), Colin “Jock” Blyth (guitar) and bassist Ross Lomas have added drummer Scott Preece to rein in their tightly energetic performances.

After resolving visa issues earlier in the month, GBH have rescheduled some tour dates and will be in Satellite Beach on August 1 at Sports Page Live to headline an all-day punk show. Tickets for the previously scheduled June 6 date will be honored for the August 1 show. GBH and Outernational! will be supported by six Florida area bands, including Big City Bombers from Orlando, Tampa’s T-C-R, and Melbourne local Coldside for this 12-hour, $12, 12 p.m. to 12 a.m. all-ages event.

Keep track of GBH on www.myspace.com/gbh. Please contact Deuterman Productions.com online, or call 508-5141 for more ticket information. Sports Page Live is located at 220 Hwy. A1A in Satellite Beach (777-7243).

Repeat After Me
By M. Alberto Rivera; Photos by Kate Flack

My parents, Dr. Miguel Rivera and his wife Alis, have cared for Koh’lohe and Kui’ipo since 1968. When you’ve lived with an animal for 43 years, what story do you start with?

The best one, of course.

In December 1974, my father answered a knock at the door to discover a police officer and a representative from the Department of Health and Rehabilitative Services, both with stern expressions.

“Sir, we’re here about the children.”

“What about them?”

“We have complaints. Neighbors called. They can hear them being beaten regularly.”

“Who’s being beaten?” My dad asked.

“The children, sir. Your neighbor says he can hear the kids being beat every night.”

“They’re not here. They haven’t been here for a week,” was my dad’s surprised response.

They asked to come in, and my dad obliged. All three kids and my mom were out of the area for Christmas break visiting family. My father was home alone, with a pair of very noisy birds, who sounded a lot like a houseful of little kids. And true to their breed, Amazon parrots are very noisy at sunrise and sunset. In their case, Koh’lohe and Kui’ipo are still really loud at sunset.

And in 1974, in a home with three kids under the age of ten, and the constant coming and going of their friends, the birds sounded like a few more kids. Their ability to mimic is uncanny. “No fair! I’m telling!” “That’s mine!” “It’s not fair!” “I don’t want to!” “Stop it!” — all fairly common phrases in homes with children, they suddenly took on new urgency to some unseen neighbor certain we were being spanked senseless every night.

Once inside, the concerned parties found an empty home and the foot-high, green and yellow culprits acting shy. After a few minutes of getting used to the presence of strangers, the birds became animated with the sun’s waning light and began their nightly tirade of protests.  Relieved, they wished my dad a Merry Christmas, while still clearly hearing the screaming calls of two Amazon yellow heads saying goodbye to the setting sun before turning in for the night.

Seventy is not an uncommon lifespan for these birds. Their claws are arthritic, and they don’t move as quickly as they once did, but they laugh when you laugh. They still sing along with the radio and whistle a greeting or say “Hello” when you come in the door, happy to see you. Now that the house full of children has been replaced with grandkids, we hear certain phrases returning, “Hi, baby!” “That’s mine!” and occasionally, “It’s not fair!” And while it might not always be fair, it is always fun.

• By Samantha Deebel •

“Everyone’s feelin’ pretty, it’s hotter than July…”

Remember that Stevie Wonder song? Well with the summer heat upon us, I thought I’d get some “cool” recipes from Kim Smith at Merritt Island’s A-Live and Healthy, where she makes some awesome raw food. She says: “For a simple and nutritious summer meal, remember to use organic ingredients. You’ll eat less, enjoy it more, and feel fantastic.”

Thanks, Kim!

Happy 4th of July to all!

Lettuce Wraps

3 large romaine leaves

1 avocado

1 tomato

Sweet clover or alfalfa sprouts

Shredded carrots

Shredded zucchini

(Optional: raw pâté)

Place three slices avocado, one slice of tomato, some sprouts, carrots and zucchini in the lettuce leaf, then fold like a wrap, and enjoy! You can add onion too, and of course use any raw veggies you like in it. For a heartier wrap, add some raw pâté.

Raw Apple Pie

For the crust:

1-1/2 cup walnuts

1-1/2 cups brazil nuts or almonds

2 cups sunflower seeds

14 dates

Grind nuts and seeds in food processor until it reaches the consistency of graham cracker crust. Add dates and blend until contents ball up like dough. Set aside.

For the filling:

6-8 apples

1 cup raisins

1 cup walnuts, chopped

Squeeze of lemon or lime juice

Shred or pulse chop apples, skin and all. Remove 2/3 of mixture. Pulse the remaining 1/3 until it becomes applesauce. In a large bowl combine apple and add raisins and chopped walnuts. If apple mixture seems too juicy, you may want to strain it so that it stays firm and dry. Press the crust mixture into a pie pan then fill with the apple filling. Top with the pie topping.

Pie Topping

1 cup cashews

3/4 to 1 cup water

Agave nectar to taste for sweetness

Start with 3/4 cup of water, add cashews, and blend. Add more water gradually if needed until the mixture is thick and creamy. Add agave to taste.

Flying Fish
By Vern Hobbs
Aberdeen Bay; 332 pages; $15.95

At first glance, “Flying Fish,” appears to be yet another quirky Florida novel in the vein of Carl Hiassen and Tim Dorsey. But while it is peopled with suitably unusual characters (including a ghost), Vern Hobbs’ debut novel is something much more

Set in the fictional “hardscrabble fishing village” of Juniper Key, where a ban on fishing has been implemented, “Smiley” Randolph, the reserved editor of the town’s weekly newspaper, is caught in the middle of the town’s struggle to survive. Guided by the ghost of a long dead community icon, Smiley tries to divest the locals of their obstinacy to hear out two unorthodox strangers who may have some solutions to their plight. Can Smiley overcome his limitations to help save Juniper Key? What’s more, can the people of Juniper Key overcome their prejudices and open themselves up to change? These uncertainties are at the core of Hobbs’ splendid, inventive tale.

Hobbs, a Cape Canaveral-based freelance writer, avid sailor, and longtime Resident contributor, could have embraced the easy Hiassen/Dorsey approach for “Flying Fish,” but opted for something eminently more satisfying. “Fish” does have its fair share of intrigue — there are some delicious mysteries to unravel and plenty of behind-the-scenes political machinations — but the key to the novel’s success lies in Hobbs’ respect for simplicity and skill at characterization. It’s almost a given that Juniper Key’s inhabitants would be eccentric, but Hobbs gives them warmth and more flesh, which imbues them with a timeless, almost Dickensian presence. More resonant archetypes than straw-stuffed caricatures, Luraleen, Ginny, Polly, Rodney… all of them, however minor, linger long after the book ends. Smiley himself is a fantastic character; we grow with him as each event unfolds and root for his victory. Moreover, you root for the lovable people of Juniper Key who develop in tandem.

Hobbs also evokes the quintessence of Florida life with gentle mastery. Along with its characters, Juniper Key comes to glorious life through creative suggestion, much like Steinbeck’s Cannery Row, a place that’s eternal as it is inchoate.

Add to these qualities a gripping, multi-armed plot, and you have that rare summer novel — one that keeps you turning its pages and provokes thought. We can’t wait to hear more from Vern Hobbs… and Smiley Randolph. — PTB

Flying Fish is available for purchase through Amazon.com. Visit Aberdeen Bay online at: www.aberdeenbay.com.

César Chávez, UFW, and the Grape Boycott

Here’s some food for thought: In the late 1960s, thanks to César Chávez (1927-1993) and the United Farm Workers (UFW), deciding whether or not to buy grapes was a political act.

Chávez was born in Arizona and migrated to California with his family… who worked the fields from Brawley to Oxnard, Atascadero, Gonzales, King City, Salinas, McFarland, Delano, Wasco, Selma, Kingsburg, and Mendota. The quiet man who lived in a barrio called Sal Si Puedes (“Get Out If You Can”) knew firsthand of the injustices imposed upon the migrant workers — workers who had been trying to organize for a century. He and others like Dolores Huerta fought back… not with violence, but with the formation of the National Farm Workers Association (later to become the UFW) back in 1962.

Three years after its establishment, the UFW struck against the grape growers around Delano, California… a long, bitter, and frustrating struggle that appeared impossible to resolve until Chávez hit upon the idea of a national boycott. Trusting in the average person’s ability to connect with those in need, Chávez and the UFW brought their plight — and a lesson in social justice — into homes from coast-to-coast, and Americans responded.

“By 1970, the grape boycott was an unqualified success,” writes Marc Grossman in “Stone Soup.” “Bowing to pressure from the boycott, grape growers at long last signed union contracts, granting workers human dignity and a more livable wage.”

Chávez is perhaps best known for the grape boycott, but in line with his collective soul, he was always the first to admit that it was not his idea. In fact, he was initially against the boycott until his co-workers explained that the best method was not to boycott individual labels, but all grapes. In this way, the grapes became the label itself.

Through hunger strikes, imprisonment, abject poverty for himself and his large family, racist and corrupt judges, exposure to dangerous pesticides, and even assassination plots, Chávez remained true to the cause and to the non-violent methods he espoused. Even when threatened with physical harm, the furthest Chávez and his comrades would go was deterrence.

Once in 1966, when Teamster goons began to rough up Chávez’s picketeers, a bit of labor solidarity solved the problem without violence. William Kircher, the AFL-CIO director of organization, called Paul Hall, president of the International Seafarers Union.

“Within hours,” writes David Goodwin in “César Chávez: Hop for the People,” “Hall sent a carload of the biggest sailors that had ever put to sea to march with the strikers on the picket lines… There followed afterward no further physical harassment.”

This peaceful yet strong dedication garnered the attention of another non-violent struggle being waged at the time as Student Non-violent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) workers took some time from the civil rights movement to head west and help out. They were joined by members of the Free Speech Movement from Berkeley to form a powerful multi-ethnic coalition.

“The fight for equality must be fought on many fronts — in urban slums, in the sweat shops of the factories and fields,” said Martin Luther King, Jr. in a telegram to Chávez after a UFW electoral victory. “Our separate struggles are really one — a struggle for freedom, for dignity, and for humanity. You and your valiant fellow workers have demonstrated your commitment to righting grievous wrongs forced upon exploited people. We are together with you in spirit and in determination that our dreams for a better tomorrow will be realized.”

The roots of Chávez’s effectiveness lay in his ability to connect on a human level. When asked: “What accounts for all the affection and respect of so many farm workers show you in public?”, César replied: “The feeling is mutual.”

“He never owned a house,” says Grossman. “He never earned more than $6,000 a year. When he died… he left no money for his family. Yet more than 40,000 people marched behind the plain pine casket at his funeral, honoring the more than 40 years he spent struggling to improve the lives of farm workers.”

Excerpted from the book “50 Revolutions You’re Not Supposed To Know” by Mickey Z., courtesy of The Disinformation Company www.disinfo.com.

BARTENDER OF THE MONTH: AMANTHA MURPHY of TIME OUT SPORTS BAR
• By Paddy McDrinskey •

As I write this, the soccer world is in upheaval.

America is out, England got trounced by Germany 4-1, New Zealand is still in the running, and the French (surprise) went on strike, and barely made an impression before being knocked out by Mexico, of all teams.

It’s good to know that with everything going haywire I can still rely on Amantha Murphy. Our favorite bartender at Time Out Sports Bar in Cocoa Beach moonlights as an x-ray technician for an orthopaedic surgeon and is also a part-time nanny for a local toddler. Originally from Buffalo, NY, and a local here since 2001, Amantha is very enthusiastic about bartending (it’s where she met her fiancé, Thomas O’Toole, who serves aboard the Royal Navy’s HMS Victorious), but reserves special love for her 2-1/2-year-old English bulldog, Molson.

It’s clear Molson has taught her a lot about faithfulness; Amantha enjoys a loyal following thanks to her efficiency and consistently cheerful demeanor. Molson couldn’t ask for a more loving mother — or Mr. O’Toole a finer bride in Amantha. And we couldn’t ask for a better bartender.

How long have you been tending bar?

Four years.

What do you like best about tending bar?

I love meeting new people. I met my fiancé here and I’ve met many great friends who will forever stay in my life.

What do you hate the most about the job?

I don’t like rude people. I like to be happy here and have fun, and it’s a drag when someone comes in and acts like a jerk.

What’s the strangest thing you’ve witnessed whilst tending bar?

One time this guy was dared to go streaking around the bar. That guy is now my fiancé. That was May of last year…

What’s the strangest concoction you’ve ever been asked to make?

It’s not really a drink… Corona and grenadine. Two people now have asked for it, several weeks apart and totally unrelated to each other. Who drinks that? Very odd…

What’s your drink of choice?

I’m all over the place… Like I am with everything in my life, I guess. It really depends on my mood. But to make it easy, I’ll say Sapphire and tonic with two limes. I also drink a lot of red wine.

Do you have your own signature drink?

“The Feel Good Panty Shot”: vodka, Strawberry Pucker, Island Blue and sour, and a splash of cranberry juice.

Do you have a preferred hangover cure?

Wendy’s Spicy Chicken Sandwich or pickle juice. Either work for me. My uncle convinced me to try the pickle juice one time when I was so hungover I thought I was going to die. I drank some and felt like a champ.

What kind of music do you like to listen to while working?

Honestly, everything. You can find everything from Sade to 50 Cent on my iPod.

Where do you like to sit on the other side of the bar?

Paddy Cassidy’s or the Dog N’ Bone.

If you could own your own bar, what would you call it and what would it be like?

Molson’s Pub. It would have a very relaxed and chilled atmosphere with good music and plenty of Molson Canadian on tap.

If you could serve any celebrity, who would it be and what would you serve them?

It would have to be Melissa Etheridge. Her music has gotten me through some of the best and worst days of my life. I’d serve her a “Barney Bomb,” one of our signature shots. It’s grape vodka, blue Curaçao, grenadine, and Red Bull.

If you were president for a day, what would you do?

I’d allow dogs to go anywhere with their owners.

Ideal travel destination?

I’d love to travel all over Europe. Hopefully, that will be happening soon.

What would you order for your last meal?

Filet of Brian from Carrabba’s.

What would you like to come back as in your next life?

A dog.

Any parting words of wisdom?

What goes around comes around.

Visit Amantha at Time Out Sports Bar (1275 N. Atlantic Ave. in Cocoa Beach; 784-6433) every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday from 6 p.m. to close. Time Out is open Monday through Wednesday from 4 p.m. to close, Thursday through Saturday from noon to close, and Sundays from noon to midnight. Happy Hour is celebrated daily from 4 p.m. to 8p.m. with $1 off all wells, calls, and premiums. Fridays also features their popular $20 all-you-can-drink specials and a DJ on their outdoor balcony. The 5,000 sq. ft. full-liquor bar also features four pool tables, darts, ping pong, cornhole, Wii, and eight big screen HDTVs and 100″ HD projection. They show all college an NFL games, and offer smoking on their outdoor patio. Check out their Facebook page at: www.facebook.com/timeoutcocoabeach

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Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

America has her share of rock n’ roll heroes: Elvis, Chuck Berry, Little Richard, and Buddy Holly among them. But does she have a band that compete with Britain’s best? It’s a question that’s been circulating for some time among music critics, and one that’s gone largely unanswered despite all the heated debate. The Beatles; the Kinks; the Who; the Rolling Stones; Led Zeppelin; Pink Floyd… What group have we spawned to match their popularity and legacy? The Doors? Too brief a career. Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band? Certainly American, but too populous and amorphous to qualify. You, waving your arm wildly in the back there… R.E.M.? Nice try, but still too recent. A strong contender, some say, forgiving the peculiarly American habit of distinguishing the singer from the backing musicians, might be Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. Remember them? They’ve been around for three decades with three founding members still intact, and they just may have released one of the best albums of their career. Well, maybe not the best, but Mojo is certainly an attention-grabbing turning point, a look back to the loose, Southern-tongued immediacy of their eponymous debut, and at least in spirit, to Mudcrutch, Petty’s first band. But while 2008’s long-awaited Mudcrutch was a drab, sloppy outing, Mojo pilfers its philosophy of impromptu, bar-bones performances, and eschews all overdubs and studio razzle-dazzle in the rendering. Whatever you call it — “progressive regression” works nicely — Mojo is a band album in the truest sense of the word. They’re no Fab Four, that’s for certain, but neither are they Wayne Fontana and the Mindbenders. And the less said about them, the better. — T. Bennison

The Gaslight Anthem
American Slang
Side One Dummy; 2010

It’s one thing for a band to reinterpret music they’re inspired by and another thing entirely for them to simply plagiarize it. Many get away with half-assed apery; a ballsy few even go so far as to claim original invention. Some merely dress the part until another style is exhumed. The Gaslight Anthem, from New Jersey, fittingly, do a little bit of everything. The recognized inheritors of old-fashioned American rock (whatever that is), Anthem have been getting away with murder since the 2008 appearance of debut Sink or Swim, a sonic pastiche of Social Distortion, Meatloaf, and early Bruce Springsteen. Two years on, they’re hailed as rock n’ roll saviors, embraced with equal verve by Warped skaters and pointy-headed hipsters, and, as if to hammer their relevancy home, joined on stage by the Boss. What’s the secret? Sincerity, that’s what. The Gaslight Anthem wear their hearts on their sleeves, and American Slang, their latest release, is the kind of muscle-bound confessional you just don’t hear any more. Sure it’s schmaltzy in places (Want to sound profound? What else is biblical imagery for?), but it gets the job done. It’s also a bit too generic and play-by-numbers to be groundbreaking, but the easy populism it exploits ultimately works to the band’s advantage. American Slang is the difference between empty pose and committed belief, and should be played from your car stereo on nights spent in the full bloom of careless youth (or at least in remembrance of it). Never was there a more soulful soundtrack for bashing mailboxes to. — T. Bennison

The Black Keys
Brothers
Nonesuch; 2010

Every band has that one album, the one that sets them apart from the race, brings them to the radio, and makes people who’ve passed them up simply stop in their tracks. For some bands, it’s their first release, but for bands like The Black Keys, it comes later… like six later. Brothers is that album. In spite of their large catalog of stupendously written and uniquely composed hits, something else happened for TBK on this sixth release. Though 73,000 copies were sold during the first week of its release, Brothers‘ success goes beyond mere numbers; it trickles down from sweet production, foot-tapping, hip-shaking, Pabst-chugging, dirty alley blues-rock that tops everything TBK have recorded thus far. “Next Girl” is sure to be heard on a movie soundtrack, if not coming from the car next to you in traffic very soon. “Everlasting Light” and “The Only One” could be the newest wedding songs for the pre-hipster crowd. “Tighten Up” will make you want to squeeze your “baby child,” and “Howlin’ for You” is like fishnets on Halloween — sinister, lusty, and fun. “Too Afraid to Love You” is an emotional gunfight, standoff-style; “Sinister Kid” pure Auerbach cool; “I’m Not the One” a phoenix of heartbreak; “Unknown Brother” a brotherly-love song for one who’s been lost by the one who got to live, and the airy “Never Gonna Give You Up” is an afro-platform-sequins-’70s song about sugary devotion that’ll make any woman hold her man tighter. But “These Days,” is truly something else: melodic and religiously beautiful. Auerbach delivers it like a swooning, secular apology — for nothing and everything all at once. In short, Brothers is family, and its songs make you part of the Black Keys’. — V. Bormann

Tori Amos
Abnormally Attracted to Sin
Universal; 2009

Confession: I’ve never really been big on Tori Amos. I know, she’s a feminist icon, an activist musician with scruples and morals — a sort of singing Gloria Steinem — as well as a fashion icon and a one-woman wildfire with good marketing presence. I should like her, but I never have. Now Amos fans, bear with me: if she represents anything, it’s change, and this review is here to tell you that with Abnormally Attracted to Sin, I have embraced it. It’s all thanks to “Give.” Then there’s “Strong Black Vine,” “Flavor,” the Vampire Weekend-ish “Not Dying Today,” the Madonnaesque “Police Me,” and several others. The title track reminds me of some kind of sexual journey into adulthood or the entrance into a dreamland, while “Starling” conjures up images of fairies, unicorns, and misty planets. “Fast Horse” is just… amazing. Check out these lyrics: “Girl, you got to find you the man who/Can smoke this out, Bad Medicine/Girl, you got to find you the man who/Can smoke this out, Good Medicine would say/You got you a fast horse darlin’/But all you do is complain it ain’t a maserati/You had a soul that you left back in Memphis/but your mama ain’t New York she is pure Tennessee.” Tori is pure brilliance, and I’m just glad I’ve been able to get past the smoke cloud of ignorance to discover what everyone else has been enjoying all these years. — V. Bormann

The A-Team

Hollywood has brought us yet another television remake with “The A-Team,” but this time they’ve employed veteran indie filmmaker Joe Carnahan (“Smoking Aces;” “Narc”) to write and direct. Even though he’d cast two fantastic actors — Liam Neeson (“Batman Begins;” “Darkman”) as Col. John “Hannibal” Smith and Bradley Cooper (“The Hangover;” “Wedding Crashers”) as Lt. Templeton “Faceman” Peck — I was still on the ropes about this movie and was hesitant to watch another remake destroy my childhood memories. You see, when I was a kid, I loved the A-Team. I had it all — the t-shirt, the lunchbox — and I pitied all fools. So as I walked into the theater, the title credits appeared and I prepared myself for my inner child’s heart being broken. But I can tell you in all honesty that my anxiety was for nothing, as this was the best television adaptation of a film I have ever seen. The action was extreme and over-the-top, but was ultimately expected, and even appreciated because of the comedy it was sure to ignite between the Team. The highlight of the film was the lunatic-redneck-pilot Murdock (my favorite character from the show, played here by South African actor Shartlo Copley of “District 9″) whose crazy antics stole the show. Some people might be a little miffed about UFC champ Quinton “Rampage” Jackson’s interpretation of Mr. T’s Cpl. Bosco “B.A.” Baracus, but what would you expect? He’s not an actor, he’s a UFC fighter, and Mr. T was a bouncer long before he was the original “Bad Ass.” Overall — even though you might not believe it — this film was well cast, well written, and fun. And I can safely say that I pity the fool who doesn’t see “The A-Team.”

Grown Ups
Directed by Dennis Dugan

Adam Sandler (“Little Nicky;” “Big Daddy”) brings us another of his Sandler-styled movies. This time, he’s called in some of his legendary friends from their SNL years: David Spade (“Joe Dirt;” “Lost and Found”), Chris Rock (“Down to Earth;” “Pootie Tang”) and, of course, Rob Schneider (“Deuce Bigalow: Male Gigolo”). When I went to see “Grown Ups” I have to say I didn’t expect much more than your basic, run-of-the-mill comedy. What I got was an old-school Sandler film that was a little weird and a little family oriented. I think the problem with my outlook on the film was that some of the roles where strangely cast — Rock as the whipped, stay-at-home dad and Rob Schneider as the holistic MD with a fetish for much, much older women. Spade and Kevin James (“Paul Blart: Mall Cop”) played the same roles they usually do — Spade as the woman crazy single guy and James as the overweight down-and-out dad. Of course Sandler has placed himself in the lead as Lenny Feder, the rich film agent with a way-too-hot-for-him wife and three spoiled kids. The overall premise of the movie was to teach the gathered children the kind of friendship and fun that can happen during an Indian summer, and that matters too. But did I mention that the movie was weird? Like the French kisses between Schneider’s character and his 65-year-old wife? Or when James’ 4-year-old son still breastfeeds? Not funny weird, just weird. I must seem like I’m coming down on “Grown Ups,” but it does have its upsides… like Salma Hayek as Sandler’s wife. I’m not sure what she did for the film, but hubba-hubba. Also, Sandler feels the need to insert the most direct circumstances — death; divorce – into his comedies, but he does have a great outlook and everything always seems to work out in the end. And I like that. If you like those quirky Sandler flicks many have come to know and love, then you’ll probably like this one. Just prepare yourself to be a little weirded out.

Get Him to the Greek
Directed by Nicholas Stoller

In “Get Him to the Greek,” director Nicholas Stoller brings us a sort of sequel/spin-off of “Forgetting Sarah Marshall” (his previous film). In the similarly-plotted “Greek,” young studio executive Aaron Green, played by Jonah Hill (“Superbad;” “Funny People”), talks his label owner Sergio Roma (Sean “P. Diddy” Combs) into putting on a reunion concert with failed musician Aldous Snow (British funnyman Russell Brand). First off, “Get Him to the Greek” is very funny and is definitely worth the ticket and popcorn. I’ve always loved Jonah Hill — not just from “Superbad,” but in almost everything I’ve seen him in. Even though his character here is a little more quiet and reserved, he still pulls out his trademark rampant outbursts of non-stop line delivery. Also, I’ve had a lot of my friends tell me about their hesitance to see this film merely because of P. Diddy’s casting, but I have to say that I was very surprised with how funny he actually was. (There’s one scene in particular involving him and a psychedelic drug called “The Jeffrey,” and Diddy had me laughing and rolling out of my seat.) However, I feel I must warn you that on a few occasions there were some very dramatic scenes that came out of Brand’s character due to his drug addiction; they were a little out of the box for this kind of comedy, yet they didn’t affect my favorable impressions of the film overall. “Greek” was one of those drug-induced adventure movies that had me in a catch-22; I had to go to the bathroom, but didn’t because I hated to miss anything. But with all the laughing, I had to go. Having said that, “Get Him to the Greek” almost made me pee my pants. Go see it.

LEO: Try to think of yourself in your glowing youth: popular, charmingly handsome, and diligent in your work, because it will help you weather the icy reception you’ll receive at your upcoming high school reunion when you’re remembered as the weird-looking kid who got kicked out of detention for huffing glue from a paper bag.

VIRGO: Yes, we all know that you’re just as much of a red-blooded American patriot as the next guy, but try to refrain from burning Old Glory in front of the local VFW this July 4th. It’s unlikely anyone will come to your defense and even more unlikely that anyone will even bother to call 911 when the flames start licking the sleeves of the Rage Against the Machine concert t-shirt you paid $29.95 for.

LIBRA: If there’s one thing your friends can’t stand about you it’s your selfishness, untrustworthiness, boorishness, aggravating smugness, and shoddy appearance. So let’s make that five things your friends can’t stand about you — six, if you count your rotten teeth as a subset of your shoddy appearance. Seven, if you count your choice of attire. I’d better stop there.

SCORPIO: Every now and again a person comes along and makes a mark on us we won’t soon forget. Even rarer is when two make their mark at the exact same time. That’s two black eyes you’ve got now, champ; one from your devoted wife, and the other from your disgruntled Brazilian mistress.

SAGITTARIUS: Sad to say that things look awfully bleak for you this month. Put on your $300 Ray Bans and things look even bleaker. But at least you look cool, and isn’t that all that’s ever mattered to you anyway? Try my pair of BluBlockers on for size. You’ll look like an ass and things will still look bleak, but without the annoying glare.

CAPRICORN: You’ve got a lot to cross off your lengthy “to-do” list before begin to see any signs of progress. I recommend crumpling it up and starting from scratch. Start a new one, write “Stop making such lengthy ‘to-do’ lists” at the top, cross it out, crumple it up, and start a new one that says “Buy a waste paper basket.” Then work from there.

AQUARIUS: Potential lovers can tell a lot about you by scanning your impressive DVD library, a collection you’ve put years of thought into. “Out of Africa” and “The English Patient” paint you as a hopeless romantic when prominently displayed on your living room shelf. The stash under your bed, however, paints you in an entirely different light. “Swedish Slut Smorgasbord, Volume VII” never won any awards, and certainly won’t win you the affection of the cute dental hygienist from Stockholm you met at a convention last week.

PISCES: If happiness is so important to you, then why do you persist in associating with people whose only aim is to bring you down and tarnish your sense of self-worth? It’s a damn good question, and one I’d like to submit to your newest “BFF,” Dick Cheney.

ARIES: Efforts to curb your self-destructive addictions will come to naught next week when you realize that your life was much richer when you embraced them wholeheartedly. Closing down your Whiskey, Bacon, and Tobacco Emporium was a bad move. Especially with the economy the way it is now.

TAURUS: It takes two to tango, Bull, but as you learn later this month, it takes at least eight to dance the neighborhood wife-swap lambada. By mid-August you’ll have learned the three-man jitterbug in a concrete holding cell in Sharpes. Draw the blinds next time.

GEMINI: If I were your boss I’d have fired you months ago. Moreover, I’d make your dismissal sting even more by getting personal and pulling out the race card. Now get out of my office, you fat WASP!

My wife, Mary, has worked from home for the past year or so, and as a result, she’s gotten more and more lazy and, dare I say it, much heavier due to her incurable sweet tooth. She rarely gets out of the house or lifts a finger to do anything; I do all the shopping, errand running, and cooking. I consider myself to be a pretty good cook, and she seems to like the meals I prepare. But the other night, something outrageous happened. I’d just cleared the table and went into the kitchen to prepare dessert and realized I’d forgotten to stock her favorite cookies. Well, that did it. She flew off the handle and threatened divorce. We’ve always argued a lot about minor things — Mary’s very particular — but this is just too much. She still hasn’t calmed down and is dead set on separating. Despite everything, I love Mary dearly and want to fix things between us. You’d think that her anger might have roots in some other, larger issue. But no. We’ve been back and forth over it, and she insists that it’s all about there not being any Nutter Butters in the cupboard. This is ridiculous. What on earth should I do?

Michael G.
Merritt Island

As odd as it sounds, Rusty, I ran into a similar problem quite recently. It’s my habit to stock a variety of post-coital snacks for my many lovers. After strenuous, passionate lovemaking, I always offer my females a selection of imported baked delicacies on a silver serving tray bedded with fresh and fragrant gardenia petals. On the occasion in question, I padded into the kitchen to bring one my conquests some goodies and found that my flunky, Hernan, had failed to replenish the larder with biscuits and sweet treats before he left for vacation. In a panic, I rifled through his basement room and managed to find two lone cookies of very low quality. I considered giving her the Double Stuf Oreo, but decided against it. So I went back upstairs and gave her the Vienna Finger! Nabisco!

Dear Romeo,

My girlfriend has a problem with oral sex. Not with me performing it on her — oh no, she’s all about that — but she never, and I mean never returns the favor. She claims that girls just don’t like doing it, and since she’s the only girl I’ve ever been with, what else can I say? She says she polled her girlfriends (and she has lots) and they all say they do it begrudgingly, that it’s gross, and they do it more out duty than enjoyment. Is this really true? Do all women secretly hate doing it?

“Justin”
Cape Canaveral

Jeremy, the idea that all women hate performing fellatio is completely and utterly fallacious. I hate to ask, but are you keeping on top of your hygiene? The difference between the act being a chore and a pleasure for women rests on personal cleanliness. One must always have a clean fallacy.

Mr. “Pomodoro,”

I’m disgusted and offended by the advice you give out in your monthly column. These people are in desperate need of legitimate help with pressing romantic issues. I have a mind to submit my own advice column to replace your outdated, sexist “insights.” You should be ashamed, making passes at vulnerable women seeking comfort and reassurance. How do you look in the mirror every morning?

“Miss Nefertiti”
Melbourne

I look handsome and desirable every morning, thank you! From the moment I awaken and look up at my reflection on the ceiling, I look toned, smooth, and tanned like George Hamilton. And I am half his age! In the bathroom mirror I look wise, distinguished, and worldly like Larry King. And he is many years older than me! In the mirror on my espresso machine I look rugged and adventurous, much like Ernest Borgnine in his youth. In the mirror in my refrigerator by the crisper drawer I look ready for action and my hair is luxuriant and silky. In the mirror I have on my shoe to look up women’s skirts, you look old, jealous, and bitter. Nice to see you!

Romeo,

I know this isn’t romantic in nature, but it does have some shocking repercussions for sea lovers such as yourself. What do you think of the BP oil spill? Any ideas on how to plug the hole?

F.H.
Satellite Beach

As much as I enjoy hole plugging, I think the first thing we should do is fire all those responsible for the unfortunate disaster. Every last one of them should be given the sack. And they should all be brave and take it on the chin. Sounds like a job for the Teabaggers. Easy now!

Dear Romeo,

I’m dating a Brazilian girl and while we were watching one of the soccer games we began wondering what you thought of Brazil’s chances of winning. Do you think they have what it takes this year to make it to the final round, and possibly, bring home the World Cup?

“Chris”
Cocoa Beach

I do have some thoughts on this, Kevin. I was sad to see the Italians exit so early, yet I have been impressed with several of the lesser-known teams, Ghana for one. But Brazil? They are always favored to make it to the final round, if not win the entire thing. But I have some experience with the Brazilians and am not sure if they have what it takes this year. They’re really not all that great anyway. I symbolically scored with 11 Brazilian girls during a vacation to São Paulo a few years ago and they gave me quite a workout. I won in the end, but no one gave me a cup. I wish someone had, because my essentials still hurt every time I hear the opening notes of “The Girl from Ipanema.” GOOOAAAL!

Shaun Rounds
Kimberly Stone
www.beachinmommies.com

Shaun Rounds is no stranger to the Blues. When Rounds was just 14, his father began bringing him to jam sessions that lasted late into the night, and it was there that he immersed himself in his surroundings and developed a strong desire replicate the sounds he heard in his own way.

Shaun’s impressive career has taken him on a path that allowed him to travel around the country to play with some of the biggest names in Blues. It also helped him come in second at the Orange Blossom Blues Society’s International Blues Challenge Competition two years in a row. He’s proud to have shared the stage with Double Trouble, the late Sean Costello, Brenda White, and scores of others, and just this year, Shaun has opened for Jimmie Vaughan, Lou Ann Barton, and Chris Duarte for shows in Orlando.

Growing up in Winter Park, Shaun played with Orlando’s House Shakers until 2000, when he moved to Savannah, Georgia and formed The Girls Go Wild Blues Band. Shaun continued to develop his sound while in Savannah, hosting jam nights and winning Creative Loafing’s award for “Best New Blues Act to Come Out of Savannah.”

Since then, he’s moved back to Orlando to further pursue his love of the Blues with the recently formed Shaun Rounds Blues Band, comprised of drummer Ronnie “Byrd” Foster, bassist Barry Williams, and Shaun himself on guitar and vocals. When he’s not playing in his band, Shaun plays bass for The Electrokings of New Orleans as well as Orlando’s own Big Rick and the Troublemakers.   The band has two shows at the House of Blues in Orlando coming up in June and is headed to the 2010 Daytona Blues Festival in October. Locally, he’ll be performing at The Beach Shack in Cocoa Beach on June 20.

You can keep up with The Shaun Rounds Blues Band onlineon Facebook or MySpace. He and his band appear at the Beach Shack (1 Minutemen Cswy., Cocoa Beach; 783-2250) from 2 p.m. to 6 p.m.

BALLYHOO!
• Kimberly Stone •
www.beachinmommies.com

There seem to be at least five different genres and numerous subgenres of reggae music spanning the spectrum from Roots to Dancehall. Roots artists like Burning Spear and Bob Marley and Dub artists like Bad Brains, The Clash, and The Specials have paved the way for the newest addition: Rock Reggae. Although the blending of genres is nothing new in the music world, more and more contemporary bands are fusing rock and reggae with other styles of music to bring a “new school” feel to an “old school” musical staple.

Riding high on the Rock Reggae music wave is Maryland’s own Ballyhoo!. Band members Howi (vocals and guitar), drummer Big D, bassist Mista J, and Blaze (keyboards) have developed their sound since meeting early on in high school in their small town of Aberdeen. They’ve also drawn a loyal and growing fan base from around the country due to their having toured almost constantly since 2008. Known for their energetic rapport with their fans, Ballyhoo! write songs about following your dreams with determination and the guiding love of music.

Their hard work has not gone unnoticed; not only have they opened for 311 and Slightly Stoopid, sold over 10,000 copies of their two self-released CDs, and contributed to the compilation CD Forever Free: A Tribute to Sublime released in 2006, they also now have two new songs in the Xbox 360 “Rock Band series” now available online. Those singles — “Cali Girl” and “Paper Dolls” — have immortalized Ballyhoo! on one of the most played video games in the world. To add to their list of accomplishments, their music is included in numerous surf and skate videos and their song “The Friend Zone” is on the soundtrack for the 2009 feature film “Road Trip II: Beer Pong.”

Ballyhoo! are again spirographing their way around North America on their 2010 summer Tour and will come to our area for the all-ages “Reggae Road Trip Beach Bash” set for June 19 at Sports Page in Satellite Beach. Come see why Ballyhoo! are deemed by many devoted fans as one of the most engaging and gratifying live bands working today.

To keep up with Ballyhoo!, check out their website: www.ballyhoorocks.com. Sports Page is located at 220 Hwy. A1A, Satellite Beach (777-7243). For “Reggae Road Trip Beach Bash” ticket information, call Deuterman Productions at (321) 508-5141 or go online to www.deutermanproductions.com.

Here’s comes that Jeannie Magic!
• Ray Osborne •

Everybody knows the 1960s TV series “I Dream Of Jeannie.” The story begins when an astronaut, Major Tony Nelson, discovers a Genie bottle on a deserted island beach. A blond female named Jeannie vapors out of the bottle, and from then on, astronaut Major Nelson gets all that he wishes, and then some.

Fewer people know that the stars of the show made occasional visits to Florida’s East Coast due to the show’s frequent references to Cocoa Beach and the Space Center at Cape Canaveral.

The “Jeannie Day” celebration made a splash in history as it demonstrated the cooperation of multiple organizations to plan a star-studded event. The first visit from Barbara Eden was on June 27, 1969, when Brevard commissioner Lee Wenner flew his aircraft South to Miami to meet up with the actress who played the character of Jeannie. Lee transported her to Brevard County where he landed his small aircraft at the Merritt Island Airport. The Florida Today newspaper headline read: “Smiling, Wide-Eyed Jeannie Wows ‘Em in Cocoa Beach.”

Barbara’s first activities in the area were pressing a button that launched a weather rocket from Complex 43 at Cape Canaveral and acting as guest of honor in a parade through Cocoa Beach. Later in the evening, she was given a reception at Lee Caron’s Carnival Club where she was showered with gifts, the most remarkable of which was an 8-foot replica of the rocket she launched earlier in the day.

Barbara Eden and cast returned to the Cocoa Beach area on November 25, 1969, for a publicity event to promote the final episode in which a mock wedding was to take place. In attendance were Barbara’s husband Mike Ansara, actor-groom Larry Hagman, the show’s producer Sidney Sheldon, and other cast members. Also at the event were many VIPS, including then FL Governor Claude Kirk, Major General David Jones, and astronaut Gene Cernan.

It would be 27 years before Barbara Eden was to return to the area. A three-day-event in Cape Canaveral called “Space Day at Kennedy Space Center” was held on the second weekend of July 1996. Even the City of Cocoa Beach got involved when city officials commemorated the TV show by declaring a special “Jeannie Day,” which included renaming Primrose Avenue to “I Dream of Jeannie Lane.”

Other Jeannie Days were held in 2004 and 2005 though Barbara was unable to attend. A Jeannie look-alike contest, raffles, and other event were among the festivities.

“Jeannie Day” was reborn in 2009 for the 40th Anniversary of the first visit by the actress. A get together was held at the Surf in Cocoa Beach, the original location of Barbara and cast’s first visit. Among the attendees were participants of previous Jeannie Days who shared their memories. On this occasion, there was a storytelling presentation with historic photos and a raffle drawing for a replica “I Dream of Jeannie” bottle.

The plan is for this year’s “Jeannie Day,” to be held on June 26, is to be even better. A telephone interview with Barbara Eden was recorded and her message will be shared with the residents of the Space Coast. In addition, there will be a Jeannie look-alike contest, a belly-dancing demonstration, a slideshow presentation with storytelling, and a raffle for a replica Jeannie bottle and other collectibles, the proceeds of which will be used to support local historic preservation.

Come join us on June 26 to experience the Jeannie magic at Durango Steakhouse (5602 N. Atlantic Ave. in Cocoa Beach) from 1:30 p.m. to 3:30 p.m. The event is free, but participants are encouraged to purchase refreshment and/or appetizer or dessert, if not a meal.

Forgotten Citizen
Twenty Second Century EP
Self-released; 2010

The music of Forgotten Citizen isn’t something we’re used to hearing here, at least in this locally produced form.

You’re more likely to hear this kind of independent, underground sound in more metropolitan areas, places where electronic music either matches the mechanical rhythms of urban life or, in more ambient form, offers respite from the city’s unending din.

Hearing Twenty Second Century, Forgotten Citizen’s latest EP, in absence of a looming, steely backdrop, then, casts it in stark relief, and in the process comes across as far more organic and emotional than you might initially expect.

Still, the album (played, recorded, produced mixed, designed, and packaged by the artist), is decidedly broody, and as such, resembles the work of a textureless Massive Attack or a more subdued Nine Inch Nails. But as dystopian and coldly industrial as it all sounds (witness the ominous, repetitive squelch of track 3, “Here We Go, Hold On!”), Forgotten Citizen seems to aim more for measured uplift than narcotic somnolence.

Adding to the intrigue is Forgotten Citizen’s “blank” identity. Wholly devoid of distinguishing features, his black, faceless one-piece suit is cited in his online manifesto as a way of directing the listener’s attention to the music as it stands. It’s a clever, if unoriginal contrivance (Daft Punk, for one, have employed the gimmick for years), and probably translates best during FC’s frequent live performances. Here, it’s rendered ineffectual.

The overall concept works well in general, yet the problem with it all is FC’s obsession with — of all bloody things — auto-tune. Yes, auto-tune. And it doesn’t just pop up in a chorus here or a random line there. It’s applied to seemingly every undeserving note. Some may be drawn in by its use (it is mesmeric), but others will be turned off by its gratuitousness.

That said, Twenty Second Century is actually quite excellent in places and shouldn’t be faulted for its reliance on computer-generated melismata.

Whether Forgotten Citizen fulfills a need for more adventurous music within the local music community remains to be seen, but at least he can rest easy in the knowledge of having broken down some antiquated barriers. And that in itself is worthy of praise.

Visit Forgotten Citizen online at: www.forgottencitizen.com. Read tour updates, hear song samples, and purchase tracks for download.

Bonepony

“It makes you feel good inside.”

That’s the catch phrase Nashville’s Bonepony use to describe what they do, and you’d be hard-pressed to find someone who’s seen the band that didn’t agree. They’ve been making people feel good inside for years as they crisscross the nation, stopping in every big city and out-of-the-way town in America to bring their unique brand of “Stomp Rock” to audiences with all the fervor of a traveling tent revival and arena-rock spectacle.

“We play our hearts out” says Bonepony frontman and founding member Scott Johnson. “I don’t know any other way to play these songs.” The band: Johnson, Nicolas Nguyen and Kenny Wright, tour year round and have developed a large and devoted following. Bonepony have toured with acts like Bob Seger, Santana, and ZZ Top, played countless open-air festivals like Farm Aid and the Telluride Bluegrass Festival, and have rocked every theatre, concert hall, club and roadside honkytonk in the United States and Canada. “That’s the best part of being on the road. We’ve made friends in every small town and major metropolis around”, says Nguyen.

Their sixth release, Feeling It, hit the #1 spot on XM Radio’s X Country chart; no small feat for a band without label funding or radio promotion. The music itself is a melodious hybrid of rock n’ roll, folk, country, bluegrass, and soul, driven home with foot-stomping four-on-the-floor beats crowbarred into four-minute musical masterpieces that make it impossible to enjoy while standing still. Their live show is more of the same, with the band tearing through their unscripted set with unconscious abandon, each band member playing a different instrument on every song, and using every limb available to do so.

March 2007 saw the band film their show at Nashville’s historic Belcourt Theatre for a two-disc live DVD/CD package. Celebration Highway documents the band’s performance in both CD and full-length concert film formats. The film includes not only the Belcourt performance, but also follows the band on its seemingly endless tour to bring their music to the masses. The Belcourt show was filmed as part of “Diehard Week,” an annual gathering of Bonepony fans (or “Diehards,” as they’ve dubbed themselves) from all over the world who meet in a planned city and travel in groups for a series of shows. Indeed, the band’s relationship with the people who follow them is unique and a huge part of what keeps Bonepony making music and touring 200-plus nights a year. As Johnson often says wryly during the course of a show, “You guys are our record label.”

The band have been in DIY mode since parting ways with Capitol Records after touring the U.S. in support of their debut album Stomp Revival. Though heralded by many critics as “the future of music,” Capitol were unmotivated to market the band, and did nothing in the way of promotion. The band split from the label and all subsequent releases have been on their own imprint, SuperDuperRecordings. Undaunted by the fact that mainstream success thus far eluded them, Bonepony forge on.

Bonepony will appear at Milliken’s Reef (683 Dave Nisbet Dr., Port Canaveral; 783-0100) June 18 and 20. To learn more about the band, visit www.bonepony.com.

The Cook Trio

It’s nearly impossible to tell the story of Resident favorites the Cook Trio without telling the story of Django Reinhardt.

Born in Belgium in 1910 and raised in a gypsy camp outside of Paris, Reinhardt was the first truly influential jazz artist to originate from Europe. He was also arguably the first to successfully highlight the acoustic guitar in what had hitherto been a horn-driven, decidedly black American genre, and Reinhardt’s unique guitar work remains beyond reproach and nearly impossible to copy. A fire cost him the use of two of his fingers on his left hand, forcing him to adapt his style to accommodate his handicap through an intricate fingering system, turning a limitation into an inimitable asset. The percussive strumming style of the jazz manouche he helped create with his popular Quintette du Hot Club De France during the ’30s and ’40s is one of the only early forms of jazz whose origins are found outside America. When most people think of jazz, they think of a nattily dressed Miles Davis brandishing his trumpet, or John Coltrane, nattily dressed, coaxing God from his alto sax. They rarely remember Django Reinhardt, the rough-and-tumble guitarist who, by ingeniously changing the movement forever, earned a place in the jazz pantheon long before Miles or Trane learned to walk. They almost never remember that he dressed just as nattily.

Formed in April 2005, the nattily dressed Cook Trio consists of guitarists Ian and Jason Cook and contrabassist Kyle Jones, all of whom shared a common love of Reinhardt’s passionate music and anarchic spirit. Through stunning live performances and three stellar albums (2005′ Gypsy Jazz Guitare; 2007’s Villa Saïd, and last year’s Moonlight), the trio taps into acoustic gypsy jazz’s original eroticism and wartime Paris’ unquenchable thirst for life. The jagged rhythms they turn out evoke the bowels of a smoky bistro and the soul of a time when people tackled each moment with palpable urgency. Marked by joyful, Romany inflections and deeply emotive, almost alien-sounding chord changes, the Cook Trio’s sound has made them some of the area’s most sought-after performers. Audiences love being transported to another time and place and revel in tunes that sound as familiar as they do seductively strange. Many other influences color their performances: with over 80 songs in their repertoire, a live performance is just as likely to yield tunes by Cole Porter, Rodgers and Hammerstein, Duke Ellington or Thelonious Monk.

The Cook Trio performs Saturday, June 26 at Paddy Cassidy’s Irish Pub (2009 N. Atlantic Ave. in Cocoa Beach; 783-0810) from 9 p.m. to 1 a.m. Visit the band online at: www.thecooktrio.com.

Thunder & Cheyenne
• Words and photos by Kate Flack •

Prior to entering the home of Patti and Ryan Spadafora-Wilson, I was admittedly a little nervous.

I was there to photograph and “interview” their two wolves as candidates for “Pet of the Month.” Upon entering, I realized how silly this thought was as one of the sweetest, most gentle fluffy creatures greeted me at the door — all 40 lbs. of her — and I couldn’t help but think just how much this beauty acted like a dog. I was immediately at ease until I was told that she was a dog — their 15-year-old Siberian Husky. Wow, did I feel silly. I then looked out the window and saw Thunder: an 11-year-old Alaskan Interior Timberwolf male in all his statuesque glory.

I stood mesmerized — and scared — and wondered if I could muster the courage to exit the safety of the house to the backyard where Thunder and Cheyenne (a 13-year-old female hybrid who is approximately 60% wolf and 40% sheperd) claimed the territory as their own. I’ve known Patti for years, long before she had the wolves, and knew there was never anything I’d done to deserve being tricked into becoming their dinner. I trusted her judgment, took a deep breath, and just went with it.

She’d told me in advance what to expect. Cheyenne (aptly named) was very shy and retreated to the kennel for the duration of my stay; Thunder greeted me immediately, smelled me all over for 10 minutes, and then get over it. When he first approached me, my biggest fear was that he would sense my fright. My cowardice intensified as he earnestly inhaled my scent, which no doubt carried the scent of my own dog. I knew I had to overcome this if I was ever going to get any photos.

Though he was so much like a dog, there was also something so wild and so different about him that the adrenaline rushed through my body to the point of making me feel high. I made a conscious decision to overcome my apprehension and conquered them about 10 minutes into his getting-to-know-you ritual. If he was going to eat me, he would have done it by now. He relaxed, I relaxed, and it was game on. I was stoked to be welcomed to his pack and took full advantage of capturing the moment with my Nikon while Patti told me their story.

Both wolves were acquired as pups and spent a lot of time living indoors with other family pets until Thunder reached about a year old. It was clear the two connected and wanted their own space in a territory more native. The Spadafora-Wilsons erected a tall, chain link fence with a separate large kennel area complete with their own “house,” an open wooden structure underneath which they burrow.

They howl when they hear sirens and I’ve been told their growl is quite frightening. They eat regular dog food and have been known to make the best of random critters making their way into the yard. They go for walks on leashes, have the most stunning, hypnotizing golden eyes, and in the summer, Thunder sheds his wiry coat which grows thick and full in the winter.

As we went back inside the house to get treats, Cheyenne immediately returned, concentrating on every inch of the yard where I had stood with her keen sense of smell. When we went back outside, she immediately retreated, but returned again when she witnessed the distribution of snacks. She then strolled around the yard more comfortably around me than Patti had ever seen her do with anyone outside of the family. I felt honored to be accepted by this amazing beast. By the time I left, I was 100% comfortable with these domesticated hybrids and totally at ease.

In all, the experience for me was surreal. I was invited back and will definitely go to shoot them again when Thunder has his luxurious winter coat later.

That’s an invitation I simply cannot refuse.

Lolita Lebrón And Others Attack Congress

“No other woman in the Hemisphere has been in prison on such charges for so long a period [as Lolita Lebrón]; a fact which Communist critics of your human rights policy are fond of pointing out.” — National Security Advisor, Zbigniew Brzezinski, in a secret memo to President Jimmy Carter in 1979

When early American revolutionaries chanted, “Give me liberty or give me death” and complained of having but one life to give for their country, they became the heroes of our history textbooks. But, thanks to the power of the U.S. media and education industries, the Puerto Rican nationalists who dedicated their lives to independence are known as criminals, fanatics, and assassins.

On March 1, 1954, in the gallery of the House of Representatives, Congressman Charles A. Halleck rose to discuss with his colleagues the issue of Puerto Rico. At that moment, Lolita Lebrón (b. 1919) alongside three fellow freedom fighters, having purchased a one-way train ticket from New York (they expected to be killed), unfurled a Puerto Rican flag and shouted “Free Puerto Rico!” before firing eight shots at the roof. Her three male co-conspirators aimed their machine guns at the legislators. Andrés Figueroa’s gun jammed, but shots fired by Rafael Cancel Miranda and Irving Flores injured five congressmen.

“I know that the shots I fired neither killed nor wounded anyone,” Lebrón stated afterwards, but with the attack being viewed through the sensationalizing prism American tabloid journalism, this did not matter. She and her nationalist cohorts became prisoners of war for the next twenty-five years.

Why prisoners of war? To answer that, we must recall that since July 25, 1898, when the United States illegally invaded its tropical neighbor under the auspices of the Spanish-American War, the island has been maintained as a colony. In other words, the planet’s oldest colony is being held by its oldest representative democracy — with U.S. citizenship imposed without the consent or approval of the indigenous population in 1917. It is from this geopolitical paradox that the Puerto Rican independence movement sprang forth.

This movement is based firmly on international law, which authorizes “anti-colonial combatants” the right to armed struggle to throw off the yoke of imperialism and gain independence. UN General Assembly Resolution 33/24 of December 1978 recognizes “the legitimacy of the struggle of peoples for independence, territorial integrity, national unity and liberation from colonial domination and foreign occupation by all means available, particularly armed struggle.”

Prison did not dampen Lebrón’s revolutionary spirit as she attended demonstrations and spoke out to help win the long battle to eject the U.S. Navy from the tiny Puerto Rican island of Vieques in 2003.

Excerpted from the book “50 Revolutions You’re Not Supposed To Know” by Mickey Z., courtesy of The Disinformation Company www.disinfo.com).

Book Review: The Long Song by Andrea Levy
• Reviewed by Mark James •

The Long Song
Andrea Levy
Farrar, Straus and Giroux; 320 pages; $26

July, the narrator of “The Long Song,” warns early on that if you cannot find interest in her tale, “then be on your way, for there are plenty books to satisfy if words flowing free as the droppings that fall from the backside of a mule is your desire.” This seems a bit contradictory given the windiness of the warning, especially for a novel of this title. Fortunately Andrea Levy prunes the “mule droppings” from this tale about a Jamaican slave’s journey to freedom and fulfillment.

July tells the story to her son in her later years. Set in Jamaica in the early 1800s, July is the result of overseer Tam Dewar’s rape of her mother Kitty. She is taken from her mother by Caroline Mortimer, the overweight sister of Amity Plantation’s owner. July, who Caroline insists on calling Marguerite, serves almost as a toy for the mistress; that is until the Christmas Uprising, an actual slave revolt that shocked England and hastened emancipation in the British Empire.

Caroline fears for her safety and abandons the plantation while her brother fights the uprising. July and a freeman named Nimrod take advantage of the unguarded house and tumble into the “massa’s” bed. Thomas arrives nine months later, is given to a white family, and taken to England where he receives a formal education. He takes over a printing business he brings back to Jamaica many years later, takes in the woman he believes is his mother and urges her to preserve her story for future generations.

The slaves have been freed in the intervening years. July falls in love with white overseer Robert Goodwin, becomes his lover, and bears his daughter. This seems an odd coupling for an ex-slave, but many see the future through their children, and believe the only way to escape the legacy of slavery in Jamaica is to breed them white, from mulatto to quadroon to mustee to mustiphino. For the “mustiphino’s child with a white man for a papa, will find each day greets them no longer with a frown, but welcomes them with a smile, as they at last stride within this world as a cherished white person.”

July switches between third person narration for her younger self and first person narration for her older self, and it is not until about halfway through the book that we discover the narrator and the main character are the same person. This ploy adds a little confusion some may call mystery, but Levy does not appear to be courting mystery. It is also told as a memoir, but July recants portions of her tale with the excuse that she is telling it as she wishes it had been. Preserving her memories seems to serve as her forgiveness of her owner, and thus as her absolution. “It is at last complete,” she says near the end, as if the telling of her story has completed her life. It is a happy ending to a sad, but long song.

Jack Johnson
To the Sea
Brushfire Records/Universal; 2010

Full disclosure: I’ve never really cared too much for Jack Johnson. His stuff strikes me as what you might call “lifestyle music,” an inoffensive soundtrack that goes well with your batik curtains and Quicksilver baggies. Take a loosely reggae-fied strum, throw in some oceanic imagery and a couple of brahs on bongos, and Bob’s your grizzled, longboarding uncle. I know it’s a blasphemous opinion, but it’s also a fact that, depending on how you look at it, makes me either better equipped to critique his latest album, To the Sea, or taints my ability to approach it with unbiased ears. To be completely honest, To the Sea is, as you’d expect, more of the same: mellow, acoustic-based tunes filled with mellow ruminations on the sea and a mellow life lived in tandem with its mellow rhythms. But beware: there’s nary a song here with the catchiness of “Never Know” or “Good People.” In fact, Johnson seems to have exhausted his quiver of hooks here, and the bamboo frame he hammers new songs like “You and Your Heart” into is showing signs of strain. There’s no doubt they’ll grow on Johnson disciples, but to those sitting on the pier railing, To the Sea sounds like a pretty ineffectual argument for paddling out. There’s a difference between enlightened mellowness and comfortable complacency, and To the Sea has a hard time making that distinction. It’s a pleasant enough ride, but nothing close to the memorably epic session you hunger for. — T. Bennison

Toots & the Maytals
Flip and Twist
D&F Music; 2010

It’s been a long time since Toots and the Maytals recorded their first album, Never Grow Old, at Coxsone Dodd’s Studio One back in 1962, but their latest makes it seem like the day before yesterday. Like that debut, Flip and Twist sounds just as fresh and exciting. With its ingenious injection of gospel and soul into a roots reggae sound, Flip recalls the band’s early beginnings as one of the most unique acts to come out of the Jamaican scene during its heyday. Led by Frederick “Toots” Hibbert, and originally called simply the Maytals, the band started out as a vocal trio. Hibbert, Henry “Raleigh” Gordon, and Nathaniel “Jerry” McCarthy all grew up singing in their church choir, and their close harmony gospel style earned them the attention of Dodd, who enlisted his house band, the Skatalites, to back them for their first record. Eclipsing the Wailers in popularity during their start, they changed their name to include Toots, recorded songs for The Harder They Come soundtrack, and released a string of classic singles — “Pressure Drop,” “Monkey Man,” and “Do the Reggay,” which is widely credited with having brought the term “reggae” into common parlance. Flip and Twist further cements their legendary status by returning to original form with songs like the soulful “Almighty Way,” “Higher Ground,” and the blues-inflected “Good Woman.” Nearly 50 years into a career that shows no signs of slowing, Toots and the Maytals don’t just enjoy a prime spot in the reggae pantheon, they were there when the blueprints for it were being drawn. — G. Fortnum

Ray LaMontagne
Gossip in the Grain
RCA/Victor; 2008

Considering how off-the-path singer/songwriter Ray LaMontagne is, it’s amazing how the media has picked up tracks from his third release like they just… belong. You’ve probably heard something from Gossip in the Grain if you’ve seen a Traveler’s Life Insurance commercial (“Trouble”), watched “Grey’s Anatomy” (“Winter Birds”), “Fringe” (“Let It Be Me”) or “House” (“Sarah”), or if you’ve seen the movie “I Love You Man” (“You Are The Best Thing”). But don’t stop there. You can’t sell yourself short on what the media purchased — you have to listen to “Roses and Cigarettes” while driving a country road. You must curl up with “A Falling Through” when your lover leaves. Oh, and definitely share “Meg White” with anyone who likes The White Stripes (yes, he wrote a song to that Meg White). If by some chance none of this has convinced you to iTunes him, I’ll add that he’s a pastoral counter to Ryan Adams. LaMontagne isn’t the kind of artist who’s going to get into a fight at the bar, but he is the crooner who’ll play in the car on the way home from just such a night. He plays for the wild men who make their way home to have their wounds dressed, and gets them thinking about what really matters. — V. Bormann

Etta James
Etta James Rocks the House
Chess; 1964

There’s just something about a live album that reveals an artist’s true soul. I cut my teeth on a 1960s understanding of music: if an artist meets or exceeds the quality of their studio recordings when they play live, they’re pretty much excellent. Since Etta James’s touring ended before my time, I figure Etta Rocks The House is as close as I’ll ever get, and if the album is any indication of her chops, her legendary status is clearly a given. As the muggy summer air settles on me one late evening, a few days after I’ve carried boxes and furniture up and down stairs to move, I find her rocking my house indeed, right down to the wads of packing tape on the floor. Recorded on September 27-28 in 1963 when she played at Nashville’s New Era Club, Rocks is often tagged as her most accomplished live album. With an impressive mix of classic blues covers from Ray Charles, Berry Gordy, Jr., Willie Dixon and B.B. King, there’s a sultry and sweet mix of standards, plenty of sax, and, of course, some moments of ridiculously astounding vocals (see “I Just Want to Make Love to You”). If you don’t move to this album, you’re probably dead. Toss this on at your next BBQ — or you’re if like me, you find yourself surrounded by boxes — turn up Etta and let her carry the crowd into the sunrise. — V. Bormann

Robin Hood
Directed by Ridley Scott

Ridley Scott, well known for directing stunning historical epics, has given us a new version of the classic Robin Hood tale. Previews of raging battle scenes and stars Russell Crowe (as Robin) and Cate Blanchett (as Maid Marian) had me filled with anticipation for this new twist on the popular legend. I was surprised to discover how different “Robin Hood 2010″ was from the tale I’m used to, especially in regards to critical positions of the commonly accepted story, and these key changes may be too much for some viewers. I think that if I hadn’t entered the theater with thoughts of the classic Robin Hood swimming in my brain, I’d have enjoyed the movie much more; if the studio had called it “The New Robin Hood,” I’d have been less shocked. Now if you can separate yourself from that issue, then you might just find yourself entertained by a pretty good battle flick. As it was, I did enjoy it, but still found my opinions bouncing up and down throughout the duration. Crowe did a terrific job most of the time, but seemed to be barely applying himself in several key scenes. Blanchett was awesome, in keeping with her knack for nailing each of her “strong woman” roles. Unfortunately, there just wasn’t enough cohesiveness throughout the “Robin Hood” to make it the great film it should have been.

Iron Man 2
Directed by Jon Favreau

I actually felt a strong buzz of anticipation for this hotly awaited sequel, which may just be the biggest movie of the year. But I think the buzz had everything to do with the charismatic Tony Stark character and the equally charismatic Robert Downey, Jr. and less to do with the gadgety Iron Man suit(s). Downey, Jr. did another terrific job in the role of Stark, so good that it seemed like the character was made expressly for him. More often than not, big budget movies have to decide between explosive special effects and great actors, but “Iron Man 2″ was perfectly well rounded — it offers great special effects and terrific acting. It has the same feel, sense of humor, and flashy style as the first, which is important to the overall success of any franchise (case in point: “Batman”), but went the extra mile by beefing up the supporting cast to include Sam Rockwell (“Choke;” “Matchstick Men”) as Hammer (Starks’ closest thing to a business competitor), Don Cheadle (“Brooklyn’s Finest;” “Ocean’s Thirteen”) is now the new Rhodes, and Scarlett Johansson (“Lost in Translation;” “The Island”) stars as Natalie, Starks’ sexy new personal assistant. The only negative criticism I have is that there was far too much advertising and crass product placement for my taste — but even then, the products themselves were really cool. Most sequels are never as good as the original, and that’s certainly the case with “2,” but the new cast and attention paid to character development make it pretty close to “Iron Man’s” equal. Do watch the first before seeing this one though, and you’ll enjoy it considerably more.

Date Night
Directed by Shawn Levy

At first, “Date Night” looked set to be your basic run-of-the-mill comedy stuffed into the can to turn a quick buck. The fact that it stars it Steve Carell (“The Office;” “The 40-Year-Old Virgin”) and Tina Fey (“30 Rock”) gave me hope for some hilarious moments, and for the most part, I wasn’t let down. They’re both such comedic geniuses that they ably carry a boring plot while managing to make it much funnier than it must have appeared on paper. In the film, Carell and Fey are Phil and Claire Foster, a married couple who are both productive and extremely efficient parents and spouses. Both agree their life is a boring one, but they’re not quite sure what to do about it. Upon hearing that two of their close friends are getting divorced, Phil and Claire try to spice up their marriage, starting with a date night in the city. When they’re unable to get a table at an upscale restaurant, they decide to steal another couple’s reservation, which puts them in a rather sticky situation with an organized crime syndicate. The story itself is nothing worth leaving your house for, but the comedic synergy between these two talented comedians make this a laugh-filled ride, highly worthy of an average date night.

Summer’s here, and I’m as happy as a June bug!

I’m a big fan of Indian food and have been lucky enough to try it in London, New York, Switzerland, and Los Angeles, as well as in my adopted hometown of Cape Canaveral (also known to locals as Cape Carnival).

One of my favorite summer memories of New York nights was walking up to 10th Street and choosing from one of the many Indian restaurants gathered there. We usually gravitated to Rose of India, with its overdose of twinkling lights and the robust sitar player sitting in the front window. My favorite dish from there was Malai Paneer, fresh Indian cheese in a rich tomato sauce. Below is a recipe adapted from a Hare Krishna cookbook and some of my own modifications.

Apologies to Terry Archer (and others) for leaving out the flour in last month’s recipe for Mexican Wedding Cookies. Definitely my bad! Sorry Terry, it was supposed to include “2 cups of unbleached flour.”

I’d like to dedicate this month’s column to the lovely Andrea Rose, whose beautiful smile and sparkling eyes lighted my life. Thank you, angel. We love and miss you!

Malai Samantha Paneer

Heat some coconut oil in a large skillet (cast iron is perfect) on medium heat. Fry 2-3 cloves chopped garlic and about 1/2 a large chopped onion. Throw in a couple of fresh minced chilies of your choice and generous pinches of ground coriander, ginger, and cumin seeds. Toss in 2 heaping spoonfuls of grated coconut and blend with spices before adding about 6 medium chopped tomatoes. Stir well and simmer for about 5 minutes, then add about 1 and 1/2 cups of sour cream and a couple of spoons of tomato puree. Stir well, add chunks of paneer (see below) and let simmer on low for about 15 minutes. Serve with rice and naan bread or papadums. Chilled fresh fruit salad makes for a nice compliment and side dish.

How to make Paneer:

Paneer is a fresh, non-melting cheese common to several Indian dishes. It’s close in consistency to feta, but it’s much less salty in flavor. Paneer is usually cubed and added during the simmering stage of dishes like this one. I’ve come up with this recipe through much trial and tribulation. Please note that if you have an electric stove you have to remove the pot immediately from the burner so the milk doesn’t boil over the top of the pot.

• 1 gallon of full-fat milk
• 1 16 oz. container or plain, full-fat yogurt

In a large stockpot, bring half of the milk to a boil. When it starts rising up, remove it from the heat and add half the yogurt and stir with a wooden spoon. You should see the curds and whey separating; if not, return to heat and stir till they do. Line a colander with double- thick cheesecloth and pour mixture through the sieve. Repeat with remaining milk and yogurt. Drain well before use. The result is a fresh cheese you can roll into balls or cut into chunks. (Some like to keep the remaining whey liquid for other uses.)

BARTENDER OF THE MONTH: TRACY SMITH of the Cocoa Beach VFW, Gunnery Sgt. Elia P. Fontecchio Memorial Post 10148
• Paddy McDrinksey •

If I had my druthers, I’d make Tracy Smith “Bartender of the Year.”

As it is, I’ve misplaced my druthers, and the good Lord knows where they are now. So she’ll have to settle for “Bartender of the Month,” then. But what better month to honor her?

On Saturday, June 5, the Cocoa Beach VFW where she works will be celebrating its 50th Anniversary of service to foreign war veterans and troops currently serving overseas. What’s more, they’ll be collecting donations for the second of their quarterly care packages to troops serving in Iraq and Afghanistan. The VFW’s main goal is focused on helping overseas soldiers and veterans who fought and died for our way of life. But as much as we honor them, we shouldn’t overlook the humble people behind the scenes, people like Tracy, who help keep the soul of this important organization alive.

An Ohioan by birth and self-described Air Force brat, Tracy moved to Florida in 1993. Now a Cocoa Beach resident for several years, she’s rarely seen without her other half, the legendary pilot known simply as “Nabob” to friends and family alike. As a duo, Tracy and Nabob are right up there with written-in-the-stars couples like George and Gracie, Nick and Nora, and Lucy and Ricky. On April 11, after 17 years together, the two decided to tie the proverbial knot, much to the delight of their vast network of friends. Nabob couldn’t ask for a better partner in Tracy, a girl who’s loved as much for her quick wit and bold opinions as she is for her effusive warmth and knee-knocking loveliness.

Tracy will probably agree that the skills she honed during an 11-year career in special education come in particularly handy when tending to her adoring, if not sarcastic and unruly crowd of regulars at Post 10148.

So put a pint of Magner’s for Tracy on me — no, make that a case — and paint her on the nose of my plane. Rita Hayworth’s got nothing on her.

How long have you been tending bar?

Five years.

What do you like best about tending bar?

Cash in my pocket. You usually hear “Meeting new people,” but I don’t meet any new people here.

What do you hate the most about the job?

People banging their empty glasses down on the bar. There are several things I dislike, but that’s the top.

What’s the strangest thing you’ve witnessed whilst tending bar?

People falling off their stools. A lady actually fell to the floor from a standing position this past Memorial Day.

What’s the strangest concoction you’ve ever been asked to make?

A “Goldgagger”: Goldschläger and Jägermeister. I did it and he drank it.

What’s your drink of choice?

Magner’s Irish Cider.

What kind of music do you like to listen to while working?

The jukebox here is stocked with classic ’60s and ’70s songs. I usually play disco to aggravate my regulars.

Do you have a preferred hangover cure?

Aleve and Alka Seltzer …Or you could just start drinking all over again.

Where do you like to sit on the other side of the bar?

Paddy Cassidy’s Irish Pub.

If you could own your own bar, what would you call it and what would it be like?

“Party Hats.” It would have cheap booze and fried food.

If you could serve any celebrity, who would it be and what would you serve them?

Guy Fieri from the Food Network. I’d take him out for a pint of Magner’s.

If you were president for a day, what would you do?

I’d give every teacher a raise and would hold keg rolls on the front lawn.

Ideal travel destination?

Thailand. Maybe Phuktet… Somewhere on the beach.

What would you order for your last meal?

Pork chops and bacon. I love pork. All pork is good… It’s my favorite food.

Any parting words of wisdom?

Life’s too short to drink cheap beer. It’s really true.

The Cocoa Beach VFW, Gunnery Sgt. Elia P. Fontecchio Memorial Post 10148, is located at 150 Minutemen Cswy. in downtown Cocoa Beach. The post is celebrating its 50th Anniversary on Saturday, June 5 with free hot dogs and hamburgers, live entertainment, and happy hour drink prices throughout the weekend. The celebration will be open to the public from Saturday to Sunday, June 6. Don’t forget that they’ll be collecting donations for the second of their regular quarterly care packages to overseas troops, which are to be sent out the following week. Among some of their more generous benefactors have been Ocean Potion. Please remember to do your part in showing your appreciation and helping make our troops’ lives that much easier by giving what you can. The Cocoa Beach VFW is open to the public every Friday for steak dinners from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m.; Sundays for breakfast from 9 a.m. to Noon; and every Monday for rotating dinner specials like baked ziti from 5 p.m. to 7 p.m. Mark your calendars for another open-to-the-public day on Sunday, July 4. For more details, call 783-4286.

Oi Romeo!

Yer the kitten’s knickers, Romeo, you bargy dago bastard! Never in all me natural have I had such a turkish as when I first read your larf-aloud palaver. Me and the lads was in Port Canaveral two fluffs back on shore leave on the tiddleydum and split our bloody sides gargling at the pair who fell off the horse’s in the middle of a starry shag. As it happens, this bird back in cherry’s got one of the blokes, Tommy, in a right gherkin. He’s arse over tit for this bit of honeysuckle, but while we were kipped up in Gilbraltar a few moons ago, Tommy had a right fine creakle with one of the local roscoes — and luverly she was too, Carmen, with two beauty pippins on her that’d make a cob tumble his cheshires. Now Tommy’s feeling as coddled as a boffin in a skinful of humberdunce twits, so he is. Well, I says to him, keep your pudding ‘ole shut and no one will know dickie bird; twist yourself up by your wellies and stop piping like a mustard duff with two split brambles in the hams… and so on. After supper, Tommy’s Eliza’s an unholy chav, but Tommy’s as cozy as a gorsebilly in a bloody thimble and doesn’t know a dobbin in a strawrick from old Joe Doyle. So here’s the gush of it, Romeo, right down to the thruppence mojimbo: What should Tommy do, faraday down the malmsey or scupper through the wicket like a natter in a jamsack full of Trinidad peppers? We all wait for your sound advice with tarquin jagoes, as Jack winked to Jennifer. And up the nollytods, Romeo, if you get my meaning!

Cheers,

Midshipman Colin Jenkins
HMS Cadbury

Colon, it’s been said that England and America are two countries separated by a common language, and after your mystifying letter many readers may be inclined to agree. That said, your friend Tommy should definitely scupper through the wicket — double-time. Some readers may be surprised to know that I became well versed in British argot and Cockney rhyming slang while an exchange student in London during the early ’90s. I became very enamored of the city and her people, and count the tube system as one of my favorite London features. Especially the Fallopians! Tally-ho!

Dear Romeo,

I recently went skinny dipping with a male co-worker after a particularly rowdy office party on the beach. We’re both married and never touched each other during the swim but were wondering if you’d count it as cheating. “Rob” thinks so; I strongly disagree. What do you think?

“Heidi”
Cape Canaveral

Glenda, if no touching was involved, then I wouldn’t count that as cheating. But if your friend feels guilty it’s probably for a good reason. Regardless of your opinion, skinny dipping isn’t the kind of behavior two happily married people should engage in. And, um… that goes for people who are married to two different other respective people. As I am unmarried, however, I am always free to swim in the buff with you! I am a highly skilled and well-regarded skinny dipper. Once, while skinny dipping in the waters off Ipanema, I was mistaken for a snorkeler!

Help, Romeo!

I just turned 40 and decided to pursue my childhood dream of becoming a concert pianist. I’ve been taking classes with “Claire,” a ravishing blonde who happens to be married to a locally renowned cellist who practices in the room next door to ours. It only took two classes for me to feel myself falling in love with her. I’m happily single, but am afraid to take the risk of professing my feelings for Claire out of fear of angering both of them (her husband’s a big guy) and turning myself off playing the piano for good. Please help me. What should I do?

Ben F.
Satellite Beach

She sounds like a challenging piece. If anything, Chuck, telling her you love her will only improve your playing, regardless of the outcome. Don’t be afraid! Love waits for no man — and one cannot play passionately unless one knows passion. Go ahead, tickle her ivories! Con molto fuoco! When you’re finished with her, send me her number so I can put her on my Liszt!

Romeo,

I just graduated from college and am now looking for gainful employment. I have some experience as a sex advice columnist for the college paper and was hoping you were accepting interns. I’m a diligent, highly organized worker and very creative. I’d love to work for you. Give me a shot and you won’t be disappointed.

Mary N.
Melbourne

And I’d love to have you working under me, Fiona! I am always accepting applications for interns and am also always in need of assistance. There is all manner of work to be done around the Pomodoro compound, some of which might not directly relate to the writing of this column at first. For instance, I may have you polish my front knob (I have many people touching it when they come over for appointments), fold my linen, or hop down to the Port to retrieve my daily crate of fresh seafood. Just don’t bring me crabs! Ahoy!