If a musician falls
in the woods, and there’s nobody there to hear him, does he still make a sound?
The late, great Unkle Roger, helped
make that question irrelevant. Through his lifelong dedication to local music
of all styles, Rog helped to fill that forest with lots of critters to hear the
rock ‘n’ roll. We all made a noise and it was all the louder thanks to our
fallen friend.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย At Unkle Roger’s SRO White Haven
memorial service, musicians, radio personalities, and family friends got up to
reflect and share. It was dignified and sad and I was proud to be among those
there. And, as if Roger had a hand in the proceedings, everyone that spoke
seemed blessed with a sense of peace and even, at times, humorous eloquence.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Roger’s life will be celebrated with a
big bang as virtually every band in Rochester shoehorns into Water Street Music
Hall on Saturday, December 27. Proceeds from the show will go towards a fund in
Roger’s name to help future rising stars with a guitar and a dream.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย So the next time you don’t think
you’ve got what it takes, or that nobody will listen, think: WWRD — what
would Roger do? The next time you find yourself wallowing in front of the TV as
opposed to digging some live talent, think: WWRD? The next time you have an
unkind thought about anyone, think: WWRD? Long live Rog.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย I’ve been spending a lot of time in
the shower lately. The acoustics in there are pretty awesome for a boy and his
harmonica. My riffs are getting tighter but my fingers and toes look like
raisins. That, and the cordless phone acts up when it gets wet. So just leave a
message.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย I flew down to Kansas City last week.
They got some crazy little women there and I’m gonna get me one. Took some harp
lessons from Sin City Disciple-Tenderloin-Parlay madman Ernie Locke. His tips will no doubt reduce my water bill. Robbed a
bank and ate about 14 pounds of BBQ at Authur Bryant’s; Jimmy Carter ate there
once.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Dined Southern style with Punk Rods president Todd Karnahan and
his lovely wife, who runs American Greaser Supply. Karnahan brews the goo in a
still in his basement.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Friday, December 12’s KISS 107 Jingle Ball at the Aud was a
clear example why the rest of the world currently hates us. I know we owe a lot
to the Marines, but the soldier that got up and wailed the national anthem in
at least four, sorry-ass, tin-eared keys should be tried for treason. Who told
this poor guy he could sing? Worse yet was the blond, dread-locked,
running-suited cat who howled Christmas carols like a dying Doberman. What’s
with all this flat, tuneless singing everyone’s lauding as great? It sucks. Sucks. We’re being lied to, kids.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย On a brighter note, The Irish Tenors, who can sing, brought an opera-light touch
and their Christmas-Celtic repertoire to the Auditorium Theatre the following
night to the delight of roughly 2,000 fans. Their rendition of “Danny Boy” got
me all misty.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย And on yet a third night at the
Auditorium, Cyndi Lauper wowed ’em
with her utterly amazing voice. Lauper’s initial neon ’80s image, I think,
undermines her amazing talent as a singer and as a songwriter. I mean she even
did a salsa-tinged version of The Four Seasons’ “Stay.” She strutted around the
stage and aisles all sexy and sophisticated in heels but frequently and
unself-consciously broke into dance moves that were as awkward as they were
endearing. She moves like you would imagine a 10-year-old girl would, while
listening to Cyndi Lauper records alone in her room.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Lauper’s show opener, Nellie McKay,
was described to me as a “pissed-off Doris Day.” I had to see this. This NYC
19-year-old isn’t so much pissed off as she is gloriously ironic. She pounded
the keys, dedicating songs to “the man I love who couldn’t be here, because he
doesn’t like me.” She was a beautifully bouffanted smart aleck. Just wait till
she comes back. I think Rog would’ve dug her, too.
This article appears in Dec 17-23, 2003.
