RIP Billy GuitarWolf

We regret to inform you that Hideaki Sekiguchi, a.k.a. Billy has passed away by heart attack in the morning of March 31st., at the age of 38. (from the band's site)

Summer, New Orleans, the kind where I am driving without a seatbeat cause the metal's too hot to touch. Dive Bar, plywood floor, decent jukebox and better pin ball, makings of an evening. Southern sodas come one size - enormous - before the beers, many beers. I'm with friends, a guy I crush on because he really does build robots in his bedroom, a rock guy whose mojo spirit had badly tattooed flames down its sides. Guitar Wolf, cool, effortless insanity, onstage - an event in the stifle and boredom of a rarely toured town. People are crazy running around, dancing, and robot boy stage dives to the false floor, twists his foot on a board, breaks his leg, keeps dancing. To the hospital, no seatbelts again, too much adeneline, thrashing drunk crush howling pain and swathing riffs, riffs, yay, doctor give me some Paaaaain Killlllers, ya! Cast should have read 'I went to a Guitar Wolf show and all I got was this broken leg.'

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Dear readers, I'm in a bad mood tonight. I shouldn't be, things are going swell, but I am. I put on the Kaiser Chiefs, which I had been avoiding cause how silly is their "I predict a riot" video, it's like the worst metaphor for premature ejaculation since, well, since that commercial about throwing the pigskin through the tire. Yikes! I predict a riot! Anyway, one of the few wonderfully silly post-Franz new wave whose ballads are better than the pop hits. "Team Mate" - an adorable Zombies-lite shred of psych that mentions "a bicycle built for two," it just warms the heart like some gem found on a recently unearthed mid-90s mix made by someone you've long since forgot.*

*There is something very dumbly apt about making such a bad writer scenario as that, considering the song, the place, the mild miserablism in which I am currently miring. Ha!