Squirrel Nut Zippers

Katharine and Chris from the Squirrel Nut Zippers. Check out Paz's excellent account of this day over at Ukulala.

PIZZA

OM NOM NOM NOM

Jimbo

Squirrel Nut Zippers! Remember them? "Oh, sure, 'zoot suit rioooottt, RIOT! Throw back a bottle of beer dun da-dum da-dum...'" No, not them, that other swing band that had that other song. They played here last Friday, and Paz from Ukulala asked me to come take pictures of some of the band members while he interviewed them before the show (go here for Paz's account of the interview and the show). One thing led to another and suddenly I was on the guestlist, because I'm kind of a big deal. The show was great, and I got to touch the baritone ukulele that was played on "Hell" (THAT song).

I've been shooting a lot of shows lately for this site called mel.opho.be. I'll try to make my next few posts un-music related. Look for my Friday post, which will probably be some kind of gruesome picture of my wisdom teeth.

fence in november

In Concord, MA. I take a lot of pictures there.

I haven't had much to say about a lot of the photos I've been posting lately. I think most of them pretty much speak for themselves. So here are some anagrams of "Photo-Go-Round", and their significance or whatever:

- Top honour dog
(Arfstanding!)

- No troop dough
(Topical and sobering.)

- Poor donut hog
(Is there any other kind?)

- Hot dog on pour
(Wouldn't it be awesome if bars had draught hot dogs? No, because that would be absolutely disgusting...)

- "Ooh, ground pot"
(...or would it? Think about it, man. Dude, look at me. Look at me................... think about it.)

- "D'oh! Gout porno!"
(Man, we've all been there.)

- Good ho: nut pro
(Makes sense I guess.)

- Too Rough Pond
(Never, ever, go skinnydipping there.)

- "Uproot hog." *Nod*
(An exchange between two hog farmers about to gather up the season's pig harvest. From the pig fields.)

- Our dong photo
(I promise you won't see it here. Maybe on Ukulala.)

- "Run to God, Pooh"
(Christopher Robin's sad, sad last words.)

rogues gallery

Way back when, this fella by the go-by Paz had it in his noodle to conjure a portrait of hisself looking dapper and rakish, and clasping a banjo at a jaunty slant. It was a capital thought, but that idear soon opened up a whole can o' worms. And that can was a biggun. And all those can-worms started a-wigglin' something fierce til they was like a twister on the plain, makin' a royal mess of things the magnitude of which weren't seen since Teapot Dome....



After catching a gander at what Paz had done, this scrappy gent by the name'a Michael, flush with the spirit of oneupmanship, presently followed suit with a photo-graph of his own. As you'd reckon, he portrays hisself with an ill countenance, as a ne'er-do-well is wont to do.



Well I tell ya, that got my dander up, sure as tarnation. I followed posthaste with three of my own pi'chers, illustrating the breadth of my imagined musical acumen.



Madder'n a boiled owl, Christian set to with this gem, a pithy rejoinder if ever there was one.



"Poppycock!", hollered Melanie, ragamuffin that she is, and sent us all runnin' for the dinner bell with this inspired tableau.



Spry ol' Michael, ever the cock-of-the-walk, would not be outdone. Sure as Samson, he heaved the old one-two with this humdinger. Our humours besmirched, I figger'd that this donnybrook had all but hit the hay like a milkmaid after a barn dance.



But forthwith a strapping young buck entered the fray. Justin, never one to wither in the face of fisticuffs, pulled himself up by the bootstraps and exclaimed, with vim and vigour, "I'll have my druthers too!"

And he did, by and by.
And sweet those druthers were.