Thursday, May 12, 2005

Remember Plug Island, the shrouded isle we fought so valiantly to avoid yesterday? Well, we just pulled into port and there’s very little you can do, short of holding still and complying. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I grudgingly steered into these waters with both eye patches wrapped around my skull, I simply figured I’d indicate the change of scenery and then leave you to rot.

Only recently have I started pronouncing “Shamier” correctly, a mistake that invites genuine shame. For the longest time, I assumed the name sounded like something liberally applied to bagels, when in fact the phonetic spelling would be “Shamyer.” I’ve also managed to miss every concert so far, yet another reason to break out the scourge, and it’s unfortunate because Shamier’s quite good. I mean, The Double Door? I’m told the next venue is the Allstate Arena and then, per the normal trajectory of super stardom, an incisive episode of Behind the Music.

My co-worker handles the rhythm guitars, in case you’re wondering, so therein lies my connection. Download the sample MP3’s, by all means. See if the appeal is there. I’ve vowed to purchase at least two copies of their first CD, whose release is imminent, not only as a show of support but because my highly trained ears recoil at the very mention of low-bitrate MP3’s. 64 kbps? Simply appalling. Anything less than 512,978 kbps and my left ear stops playing croquet, while my right ear despairs over the realization that pinot noir is, as experts claim, alcoholic. So, two CD’s. One for each ear.

The same co-worker also played an extra in The Amityville Horror and Il Mare, interestingly enough, and soon he’ll extra for Stranger Than Fiction. I’ve requested he scold Will Ferrell for Anchorman, which is a thing that requires penance. My message must reach its destination.