Greetings, web denizens!
Ah yes, the site tweaking bug has bitten us again. We decided to move the site over to ye olde WordPress platform– makes for much easier bi-coastal, multi-person updating, and it’s more Google-friendly to boot. The previous version of the site was done quite manually and relied too heavily on all contributors boning up on CSS and web design. This makes it easier, because easy is awesome and learning is for LOSERS.
So, we’re still tweaking some things, but the basic meat and potatoes are done. Thanks again to Matt for suggesting WordPress in the first place and making things work all nice-like. He’s a good’un! Think I’ll keep him. (For a while.) (Until he mouths off again.)
Anyway, we’re very excited to be preparing for the big PNW tour, and especially psyched to reunite with our beloved Reptet. I love that band, and if you haven’t picked up their new disc “Chicken or Beef?” you’re missing out. (Those links to go to very short and hilarious videos. Mmmmmm… ham…. OM NOM NOM NOM!) We’re also quite stoked to be sharing a bill with Baby Gramps. When I told my Seattleite pal Chris that we were playing with Baby Gramps he almost choked on his sammich, so that’s a good sign. If you don’t know Baby Gramps, just search on YouTube for him. If you dig us, you’ll definitely dig him.
Next week, Matt and I are off to Burning Man— it’s my fifth year, and his very first. Wheee! No matter how much you think you’ve prepped yourself for it, you can never understand what it is until you go. Sorta like jazz. Immediately after, we then head to Portland for our first IJG rehearsal and fwam— we’re off to rock your f-ing socks off, because we are classically trained to do so1.
There are rumors of a live radio performance on KMHD, Portland’s jazz station on Friday, September 5th (not sure what time yet). I hope I don’t swear if they ask me to say something. Growing up in NJ (and singing Durkin’s tunes) makes my mouf a little, um, colorful.
OK, this is reaching the blathering point now. Buh-bye.
1 And don’t even think of robbing our house while we’re gone. We have housesitters, and they are surly.