Social! by Dallas
Alice

After releasing a stunning live debut, Louisville twang-rock favorites
Dallas Alice sleazed their way back into our hearts with
Social!, a raucous first studio album. This record shoots out of
the gate with the pop! of an opening beer and the dirty, knowing laugh
of your favorite cousin at Easter-time:

Well, I ain't red dirt
and I ain't white trash
I'm Midwest and a little bit left
of the middle class

How to describe a Dallas Allice set? Imagine the longest bourbon-boozy
night in the dankest bar in town with your best friend from back home
who's bearing a break-up, the frustration of a dead-end job and the
ghosts of his tragic forefathers, all at once. Imagine he can tell the
best stories of your youth using nothing but a guitar and a Camel Red,
you know the one about Joey's potato gun and you skinny dipping in the
lake? Then picture the rest of your guys leaning over his shoulder
giving him a "yeah yeah" chorus every time he makes the point you've
been trying to make your whole life.

Then you all take a shot!

Well, I might laugh at a dirty joke
Hang out with simple folk
And in my Catholic junior high
Well that's where I learned to drink and smoke

Dallas Alice hits coal mines and dead granddaddies, creepy preachers
and county sluts, pissed-off girlfriends and white trash pride,
clocking in Social! at just under an hour. This album spans Doc
Martens and Dingos, Chuck Taylors and bare feet, pickup trucks and
jacked-up Cadillacs, train tracks and small towns, all tinged with sex
and bourbon and death, just as it should be.

Tattooed, lately-mustachioed Sean Hopkins (lead vocals, acoustic
guitar) brings a southern-Illinoise existential nowheresville aesthetic
to these bar-room stompers, while Justin "The Colonel" Hughes bangs out
the rhythm guitar and all the heart, folks, all the fucking
heart. Don't underestimate bassist Nate Thumas' expertise or
unbridled joy - his backing vocals tell the whole story. Nick
Reifsteck's lead guitar proves he owns the most talented fingers in the
Midsouth, and drummer Matt Nofsinger keeps them all in line. What more
do you want? Go get the damn album already!

Switching moods, I can't say enough good things about href="http://followthetrain.com/">Follow the Train's full-length
debut, A Breath of Sigh (Darla). If you were one of the smart
set, you might have caught them at SXSW last year or this past March,
but if you're like me, you have to learn to be content with your
pedestrian life and get your meager kicks whenever you can.

A Breath of Sigh sounds a little something like this: you're
lying in the soft soft grass of a rolling field, covered in a blanket
made of My Little Pony fur and painful truth, the sun warming your face
and a wind washing over you that smells like a time in your life when
you were both very, very happy and heartbroken at the same time. You
want to stay in that spot forever, but you also want to move on to the
next great adventure.

Follow the Train's sound honors the Flaming Lips, REM and the lush
interior landscape of lead vocalist and songwriter Dennis Sheridan's
anxious, expansive mind.

Do yourself a favor and pick up these records right this second. You
can order A Breath of Sigh through iTunes or the href="http://www.darla.com/catalog/catalog.asp?alpha=F">Darla
website, and Dallas Alice will send you a Social! night or
day through their
website.

Do it do it do it..!

Social! by Dallas
Alice

After releasing a stunning live debut, Louisville twang-rock favorites
Dallas Alice sleazed their way back into our hearts with
Social!, a raucous first studio album. This record shoots out of
the gate with the pop! of an opening beer and the dirty, knowing laugh
of your favorite cousin at Easter-time:

Well, I ain't red dirt
and I ain't white trash
I'm Midwest and a little bit left
of the middle class

How to describe a Dallas Allice set? Imagine the longest bourbon-boozy
night in the dankest bar in town with your best friend from back home
who's bearing a break-up, the frustration of a dead-end job and the
ghosts of his tragic forefathers, all at once. Imagine he can tell the
best stories of your youth using nothing but a guitar and a Camel Red,
you know the one about Joey's potato gun and you skinny dipping in the
lake? Then picture the rest of your guys leaning over his shoulder
giving him a "yeah yeah" chorus every time he makes the point you've
been trying to make your whole life.

Then you all take a shot!

Well, I might laugh at a dirty joke
Hang out with simple folk
And in my Catholic junior high
Well that's where I learned to drink and smoke

Dallas Alice hits coal mines and dead granddaddies, creepy preachers
and county sluts, pissed-off girlfriends and white trash pride,
clocking in Social! at just under an hour. This album spans Doc
Martens and Dingos, Chuck Taylors and bare feet, pickup trucks and
jacked-up Cadillacs, train tracks and small towns, all tinged with sex
and bourbon and death, just as it should be.

Tattooed, lately-mustachioed Sean Hopkins (lead vocals, acoustic
guitar) brings a southern-Illinoise existential nowheresville aesthetic
to these bar-room stompers, while Justin "The Colonel" Hughes bangs out
the rhythm guitar and all the heart, folks, all the fucking
heart. Don't underestimate bassist Nate Thumas' expertise or
unbridled joy - his backing vocals tell the whole story. Nick
Reifsteck's lead guitar proves he owns the most talented fingers in the
Midsouth, and drummer Matt Nofsinger keeps them all in line. What more
do you want? Go get the damn album already!

Switching moods, I can't say enough good things about href="http://followthetrain.com/">Follow the Train's full-length
debut, A Breath of Sigh (Darla). If you were one of the smart
set, you might have caught them at SXSW last year or this past March,
but if you're like me, you have to learn to be content with your
pedestrian life and get your meager kicks whenever you can.

A Breath of Sigh sounds a little something like this: you're
lying in the soft soft grass of a rolling field, covered in a blanket
made of My Little Pony fur and painful truth, the sun warming your face
and a wind washing over you that smells like a time in your life when
you were both very, very happy and heartbroken at the same time. You
want to stay in that spot forever, but you also want to move on to the
next great adventure.

Follow the Train's sound honors the Flaming Lips, REM and the lush
interior landscape of lead vocalist and songwriter Dennis Sheridan's
anxious, expansive mind.

Do yourself a favor and pick up these records right this second. You
can order A Breath of Sigh through iTunes or the href="http://www.darla.com/catalog/catalog.asp?alpha=F">Darla
website, and Dallas Alice will send you a Social! night or
day through their
website.

Do it do it do it..!

Social! by Dallas
Alice

After releasing a stunning live debut, Louisville twang-rock favorites
Dallas Alice sleazed their way back into our hearts with
Social!, a raucous first studio album. This record shoots out of
the gate with the pop! of an opening beer and the dirty, knowing laugh
of your favorite cousin at Easter-time:

Well, I ain't red dirt
and I ain't white trash
I'm Midwest and a little bit left
of the middle class

How to describe a Dallas Allice set? Imagine the longest bourbon-boozy
night in the dankest bar in town with your best friend from back home
who's bearing a break-up, the frustration of a dead-end job and the
ghosts of his tragic forefathers, all at once. Imagine he can tell the
best stories of your youth using nothing but a guitar and a Camel Red,
you know the one about Joey's potato gun and you skinny dipping in the
lake? Then picture the rest of your guys leaning over his shoulder
giving him a "yeah yeah" chorus every time he makes the point you've
been trying to make your whole life.

Then you all take a shot!

Well, I might laugh at a dirty joke
Hang out with simple folk
And in my Catholic junior high
Well that's where I learned to drink and smoke

Dallas Alice hits coal mines and dead granddaddies, creepy preachers
and county sluts, pissed-off girlfriends and white trash pride,
clocking in Social! at just under an hour. This album spans Doc
Martens and Dingos, Chuck Taylors and bare feet, pickup trucks and
jacked-up Cadillacs, train tracks and small towns, all tinged with sex
and bourbon and death, just as it should be.

Tattooed, lately-mustachioed Sean Hopkins (lead vocals, acoustic
guitar) brings a southern-Illinoise existential nowheresville aesthetic
to these bar-room stompers, while Justin "The Colonel" Hughes bangs out
the rhythm guitar and all the heart, folks, all the fucking
heart. Don't underestimate bassist Nate Thumas' expertise or
unbridled joy - his backing vocals tell the whole story. Nick
Reifsteck's lead guitar proves he owns the most talented fingers in the
Midsouth, and drummer Matt Nofsinger keeps them all in line. What more
do you want? Go get the damn album already!

Switching moods, I can't say enough good things about href="http://followthetrain.com/">Follow the Train's full-length
debut, A Breath of Sigh (Darla). If you were one of the smart
set, you might have caught them at SXSW last year or this past March,
but if you're like me, you have to learn to be content with your
pedestrian life and get your meager kicks whenever you can.

A Breath of Sigh sounds a little something like this: you're
lying in the soft soft grass of a rolling field, covered in a blanket
made of My Little Pony fur and painful truth, the sun warming your face
and a wind washing over you that smells like a time in your life when
you were both very, very happy and heartbroken at the same time. You
want to stay in that spot forever, but you also want to move on to the
next great adventure.

Follow the Train's sound honors the Flaming Lips, REM and the lush
interior landscape of lead vocalist and songwriter Dennis Sheridan's
anxious, expansive mind.

Do yourself a favor and pick up these records right this second. You
can order A Breath of Sigh through iTunes or the href="http://www.darla.com/catalog/catalog.asp?alpha=F">Darla
website, and Dallas Alice will send you a Social! night or
day through their
website.

Do it do it do it..!

Social! by Dallas
Alice

After releasing a stunning live debut, Louisville twang-rock favorites
Dallas Alice sleazed their way back into our hearts with
Social!, a raucous first studio album. This record shoots out of
the gate with the pop! of an opening beer and the dirty, knowing laugh
of your favorite cousin at Easter-time:

Well, I ain't red dirt
and I ain't white trash
I'm Midwest and a little bit left
of the middle class

How to describe a Dallas Allice set? Imagine the longest bourbon-boozy
night in the dankest bar in town with your best friend from back home
who's bearing a break-up, the frustration of a dead-end job and the
ghosts of his tragic forefathers, all at once. Imagine he can tell the
best stories of your youth using nothing but a guitar and a Camel Red,
you know the one about Joey's potato gun and you skinny dipping in the
lake? Then picture the rest of your guys leaning over his shoulder
giving him a "yeah yeah" chorus every time he makes the point you've
been trying to make your whole life.

Then you all take a shot!

Well, I might laugh at a dirty joke
Hang out with simple folk
And in my Catholic junior high
Well that's where I learned to drink and smoke

Dallas Alice hits coal mines and dead granddaddies, creepy preachers
and county sluts, pissed-off girlfriends and white trash pride,
clocking in Social! at just under an hour. This album spans Doc
Martens and Dingos, Chuck Taylors and bare feet, pickup trucks and
jacked-up Cadillacs, train tracks and small towns, all tinged with sex
and bourbon and death, just as it should be.

Tattooed, lately-mustachioed Sean Hopkins (lead vocals, acoustic
guitar) brings a southern-Illinoise existential nowheresville aesthetic
to these bar-room stompers, while Justin "The Colonel" Hughes bangs out
the rhythm guitar and all the heart, folks, all the fucking
heart. Don't underestimate bassist Nate Thumas' expertise or
unbridled joy - his backing vocals tell the whole story. Nick
Reifsteck's lead guitar proves he owns the most talented fingers in the
Midsouth, and drummer Matt Nofsinger keeps them all in line. What more
do you want? Go get the damn album already!

Switching moods, I can't say enough good things about href="http://followthetrain.com/">Follow the Train's full-length
debut, A Breath of Sigh (Darla). If you were one of the smart
set, you might have caught them at SXSW last year or this past March,
but if you're like me, you have to learn to be content with your
pedestrian life and get your meager kicks whenever you can.

A Breath of Sigh sounds a little something like this: you're
lying in the soft soft grass of a rolling field, covered in a blanket
made of My Little Pony fur and painful truth, the sun warming your face
and a wind washing over you that smells like a time in your life when
you were both very, very happy and heartbroken at the same time. You
want to stay in that spot forever, but you also want to move on to the
next great adventure.

Follow the Train's sound honors the Flaming Lips, REM and the lush
interior landscape of lead vocalist and songwriter Dennis Sheridan's
anxious, expansive mind.

Do yourself a favor and pick up these records right this second. You
can order A Breath of Sigh through iTunes or the href="http://www.darla.com/catalog/catalog.asp?alpha=F">Darla
website, and Dallas Alice will send you a Social! night or
day through their
website.

Do it do it do it..!

Social! by Dallas
Alice

After releasing a stunning live debut, Louisville twang-rock favorites
Dallas Alice sleazed their way back into our hearts with
Social!, a raucous first studio album. This record shoots out of
the gate with the pop! of an opening beer and the dirty, knowing laugh
of your favorite cousin at Easter-time:

Well, I ain't red dirt
and I ain't white trash
I'm Midwest and a little bit left
of the middle class

How to describe a Dallas Allice set? Imagine the longest bourbon-boozy
night in the dankest bar in town with your best friend from back home
who's bearing a break-up, the frustration of a dead-end job and the
ghosts of his tragic forefathers, all at once. Imagine he can tell the
best stories of your youth using nothing but a guitar and a Camel Red,
you know the one about Joey's potato gun and you skinny dipping in the
lake? Then picture the rest of your guys leaning over his shoulder
giving him a "yeah yeah" chorus every time he makes the point you've
been trying to make your whole life.

Then you all take a shot!

Well, I might laugh at a dirty joke
Hang out with simple folk
And in my Catholic junior high
Well that's where I learned to drink and smoke

Dallas Alice hits coal mines and dead granddaddies, creepy preachers
and county sluts, pissed-off girlfriends and white trash pride,
clocking in Social! at just under an hour. This album spans Doc
Martens and Dingos, Chuck Taylors and bare feet, pickup trucks and
jacked-up Cadillacs, train tracks and small towns, all tinged with sex
and bourbon and death, just as it should be.

Tattooed, lately-mustachioed Sean Hopkins (lead vocals, acoustic
guitar) brings a southern-Illinoise existential nowheresville aesthetic
to these bar-room stompers, while Justin "The Colonel" Hughes bangs out
the rhythm guitar and all the heart, folks, all the fucking
heart. Don't underestimate bassist Nate Thumas' expertise or
unbridled joy - his backing vocals tell the whole story. Nick
Reifsteck's lead guitar proves he owns the most talented fingers in the
Midsouth, and drummer Matt Nofsinger keeps them all in line. What more
do you want? Go get the damn album already!

Switching moods, I can't say enough good things about href="http://followthetrain.com/">Follow the Train's full-length
debut, A Breath of Sigh (Darla). If you were one of the smart
set, you might have caught them at SXSW last year or this past March,
but if you're like me, you have to learn to be content with your
pedestrian life and get your meager kicks whenever you can.

A Breath of Sigh sounds a little something like this: you're
lying in the soft soft grass of a rolling field, covered in a blanket
made of My Little Pony fur and painful truth, the sun warming your face
and a wind washing over you that smells like a time in your life when
you were both very, very happy and heartbroken at the same time. You
want to stay in that spot forever, but you also want to move on to the
next great adventure.

Follow the Train's sound honors the Flaming Lips, REM and the lush
interior landscape of lead vocalist and songwriter Dennis Sheridan's
anxious, expansive mind.

Do yourself a favor and pick up these records right this second. You
can order A Breath of Sigh through iTunes or the href="http://www.darla.com/catalog/catalog.asp?alpha=F">Darla
website, and Dallas Alice will send you a Social! night or
day through their
website.

Do it do it do it..!

Tonight, you can catch everyone's favorite redhead, Brigid Kaelin, with full band at Air Devils Inn at 10pm. Tyrone Cotton duo joins her

Then, the adorable Darcy Thompson joins DJ Suki at The Jazz Factory for a set of Klingon bubblegum pop, Samoan psychedelia, Turkish bluegrass, Nashville gamelan, and Russian pedophile ballads. 11pm - 1am; drinks at happy hour prices.

Afterwards, roll up a few blocks for DJ Chad Krauss spinning a mix of glam/punk/etc at Third Street Dive (428 S. 3rd St.) - come for the moustache, stay for the songs. 10 pm-4am

Whew. Tired yet? But wait, there's more!

Saturday night finds the boys in Dallas Alice over at Wick's on the wide, wide Dixie Highway. Come grab a slice of the South End! They have a new album that rocks (stay tuned for details tomorrow in my Record Release Roundup). Also, they would very much like to give you a light. Ask about the matchbooks!

If you're not completely worn out by Sunday, and not busy helping a certain Canadian celebrate his birthday with the metric system and loonies, Sean Hopkins, Nate Thumas (both of Dallas Alice), and Sebastian Clark go all solo acoustic at ADI around 9 pm.

Photos of the evening:

Alan, Beth, Eden and Marcy at the merch table

Mitchell hides and reads at the bar

Lovely and talented: John Whitaker and Beth Newberry

The delightful Mary Welp

Katy Yocom and the Jolly Roger

Dianna and Robin say hello!

Strange Bird / Bobby Bare, Jr.
Blue Days, Black Nights / Buddy Holly
Song for a Girl Who Has One / Too Much Joy
All Men Are Liars / Nick Lowe
Care of Cell 44 / The Zombies
Beautiful Girl / Robyn Hitchcock
Pauvre Lola / Serge Gainsbourg & Brigitte Bardot
Blight / Brute
I Was Dancing at the Lesbian Bar / Jonathan Richman
Pictures of Matchstick Men / Camper Van Beethoven
Sweet Jane (live) / The Velvet Underground
Alex Chilton / Replacements
When My Baby's Beside Me / Big Star
USA / The Pogues
More than a Feeling / Sleater-Kinney
St. Joe’s Band / Ike Reilly
All The Young Dudes / Mott The Hoople
Whatever / Hüsker Dü
Hope / R.E.M.
Love - Building on Fire (live) / Talking Heads

Tonight! Celebration! Let's hear it for literacy and whiskey!

Folks, this is a great mix, if I do say so myself. Humility is not my strong suit. Some nights, your mixing fingers just make a little magic. If you come to The One-Hit Wonders launch party tomorrow night, you might end up leaving a mix cd and picking up the following cd that flows quite seamlessly from track to track:

Rough Trade / Stiff Little Fingers
Train from Kansas City / Superchunk
He's So Fine / The Angels
Fever / Little Willie John
Hound Dog / Big Mama Thornton
Big Black Mariah / Tom Waits
22 Hours of Darkness / Ike Reilly Assasination
Tony Adams / Joe Strummer & The Mescaleros
The Infanta / The Decemberists
Oh! / Sleater-Kinney
Ça plane pour moi / Plastic Bertrand
Little Girls / Oingo Boingo**
Damaged Goods / Gang Of Four
Wolves, Lower / R.E.M.
Let the Cool Goddess Rust Away / Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
The Girls Want To Be With The Girls / Talking Heads
Friendship Update / The Go! Team

**pour QIR

• Erin Cissell
• Mrs. Jason Cissell

or for any of the following events to which I am inevitably invited and yet, inexplicably, the Cissell is not:

• baby showers
• wedding showers

I am going to scream.

Who in the fuck is Mrs. Jason Cissell?!

It is one thing when stupid fundraising types ring us and ask for Mrs. Cissell. I can calmly state that she's not here. It's true. Jason's grandmother (whom I think of as the Real Mrs. Cissell) is usually nowhere to be found around here, and it saves me the trouble of asking the Policeman Association (scary!) to take me off their fundraising list. Yes, I'm nonconfrontational like that.

However.

I've been with Jason for over nine years. Don't you think his extended family can learn my goddamned name? I can indulge the Greatest Generation - it did take my grandfather a few months (and sometimes I think he forgets) to realize that I didn't change my name just because I got married. This is the year of Our Andrew McCarthy TWO THOUSAND AND SIX. Women don't just go and change their names as a matter of course, but it's ok if his 80-year-old grandmother missed that bulletin. It really isn't OK, though, when the cousins who are our peers, age-wise, just can't be bothered to learn my name. In fact, it really pisses me off. These are educated folks here, equipped with all modern address bookish technology. There is no excuse.

I've planned a wedding - sure, it's a lot of work. But I remember chasing down friends to get the spelling right of the person they planned on bringing to include those guests by name on the invitation because that is just what you do to be a gracious host, you address the goddamn invitation to its rightful recipient(s). I sure as hell knew the last names of actual partners. Don't get me started on the baby shower I through for my brother and sister-in-law and the double-checking I did of people's names and whatnot - I barely knew any of those people and still managed to get most of it right.

In this day and age, you just don't address a grown-ass woman by her husband's name, I mean what in the fuck, am I stuck in a Margaret Atwood novel? I thought my mother's generation took care of this social detail for us? Don't even start with the etiquette books - the first rule of etiquette is to avoid making people feel uncomfortable. And when I already feel squicked out by the invitations to gift-giving events where my sole purpose is to represent my husband OH MY GOD did I just even type that?! then why alienate me further by sending an invitation allegedly to me but in fact to a totally fictional person? It just makes it easier for me to ignore invitations to all manners of showers. But weddings? If I'm available, I would like to attend. And I would appreciate being invited under my actual name. It's not like I just showed up on the scene ... I've been around for almost ten years!

My name is Erin Keane and darling, I simply must decline.

For those of you who haven't seen it, the movie basically takes place between two locations, Hogwarts and Endor. Hogwarts has less whimsy but better sim-war, and Endor lacks Ewoks (unless, of course, you count the Frasier Fur, who couldn't just be a wolfman, he had to be a bluewolfman. Have they ever established why these mutations are so random? Why one dude turns into the Frasier Blue and another the Birdman of Alcatraz? You know, on second thought, don't tell me. I don't have room in my brain for yet another section of useless comix knowledge) but seems to have gained a throng of gothed-out Braveheard re-enactors. Then there's a bit with a bald kid and the Golden Gate Bridge, but whatever, the Crazy Bitch Express come to town!

Despite the fact that Storm finally went and got herself a cape, she still can't hold a candle to the resurrected Crazy Bitch. Another classic case of the dude taking the Actual Crazy Lady over the sensible schoolteacher. Even though you can't take her home to Hogwarts for Thanksgiving and the only humane thing to do is stab her with your retractable wolf claws or something before she drags you all down in her borderline self- and other-directed destruction. Doesn't matter that the nice schoolteacher is Halle Berry. All she can do is make it rain and shit. Fancy cape aside. On a good day, she might command a tornado. Crazy Lady can destroy the universe and kill her laah-vurrs with a single thought. You lose, Halle, no contest.

Speaking of killing laaah-vurrs, just who in the hell's the chippie going after Rogue's man? I sense a bald-headed snatching coming her way. Rogue wants to get all cured so she can sex up BrrrBobby, but he's making time with some utterly forgettable Disney ingenue behind her back. Touch her, Rogue! Do the "you got a little something" move and just wipe that little speck from the corner of her ice-skating back-stabbing mouth ... orrrrr, let her have Chilly Willie and take up with Wolverine and his muttonchops like we all know you want to. Because if there's anything that can take a guy's mind off his deranged girlfriend he just had to mercykill, it's a chick who can destroy him with a single bare-fingered touch.

And that, Reader, is a Friday night at the movies.

Book party!

BORING!

You may have been to one before: the stilted conversation between vaguely literary types desperate to sound clever, wilted crudité, bad music, Nan Talese ... you might as well stay home and watch Charlie Rose in your underwear. The drinks would be better, at least.

Well, forget what you know of book parties. To celebrate the launch of The One-Hit Wonders, we're skipping the fishy wine and pocket cheese in favor of a glam rock-soundtracked throwdown at the new Third Street Dive in downtown Louisville (438 S. 3rd St.) at 8:00 p.m. on Wednesday, June 7.

I'll have copies of the book ($5/no holla) which I will lovingly sign for you, including a jaunty personalized message of my choice. I'll also have a limited number of commemorative t-shirts for sale, if you're expanding your summer wardrobe.

No pressure, but wouldn't it be fun to make a mix cd (or tape, if you roll analog) to trade? We'll set up a "take a mix, leave a mix" tray and send you home with your new summer soundtrack. Books, music, booze, dancing, casual wear ... what more could you possibly need on a Wednesday night?