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Page 20 EXIT ZERO March 31, 2022
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Beach & Grant 609-884-3772
more food and less laundry in the
house) I got to hear WCFA host
Annie Walsh’s “It’s All Good” show
featuring Honey, I’m Homeless.
Honey, I’m Homeless are a local
band fronted by singer-songwriter
Brandon Smith and employ my
favorite drummer, Al Olivero. Their
new album, Remission: Impossible,
is now available for purchase.
Brandon’s songwriting is heavily
influenced by 90s 3-chord power-pop
outfits like Blink 182, and
elder statesman like Elvis Costello,
and, shockingly, I don’t hate most
of them, which is the highest honor
I can give. (I kid.) The album features
a few local guest artists, none
of whom are me, which is fine. I
guess. But does feature two of my
favorites, Jon Katity and Nancy
Malcun. So there’s that. You can
actually, tangibly support local
music by buying and downloading
Remission: Impossible. Like, right
now.
Only my sons and I could
spend $20 at Rita’s on free water
ice day.
I was pretty nervous entering
2022, but as the first quarter
recedes, I’m able to breathe a little
easier. Oh, I still think it’s entirely
possible that gas and food shortages
and nuclear holocaust thrust
into a Road Warrior scenario, I just
mean I feel pretty good about my
gigs. Pairing with four new musical
partners was daunting, to say the
least, but now that we’ve all played
together, I can exhale. Each show
has its own little personality. Jerry
Kolber and I are your classic acoustic
duo, many standards peppered
with a heavy dose of modern alternative.
Dave Hughes brings the
vibes with his electric guitar and
assortment of 70s classics, though
he is by far the youngest of this new
group. Charlie Wigo is your fun
uncle who went to Woodstock and
never returned. Michael Stevens
is the smooth ivory-tickler who
unleashes my inner Billy Joel. I
couldn’t be happier. And yes, I’ve
made all of them learn at least one
Dawes song.
A company for whom I recently
made a few commercials will soon
be paying me a not-inconsequential-yet-not
life-altering amount of
money to keep me from making
commercials for similar companies
in the tri-state area. You see? I’m
such a good actor people are paying
me to NOT act. It’s flattering. Or
insulting. Either way, cha-CHING!
Amirite?
I sat my kids down to have the
sex talk. They really taught me a lot.
If you love a good, unleashed
Jason Bateman curse-a-thon like
I do, I give you the unheralded
Bad Words. Bateman plays, well,
Bateman, as he competes against
middle school kids in a spelling
bee and you can probably guess
the rest. Bateman is Oscar-worthy.
Seriously. No one says “pal” with
such dripping, acidic condescension.
Deep Water, starring then-couple
Ben Affleck and Ana DeArmas,
is exactly what you’d expect from
80’s stylish-sleaze auteur Adrian
Lyne. Equal parts 9 ½ Weeks, Fatal
Attraction and Unfaithful. That’s not
to say it’s bad. In fact, it’s quite
good. Just try not to sprain your
eyeballs as you occasionally roll
them. Bonus points for casting the
great Tracey Letts.
Drive My Car is more an investment
than a movie, but if you can
commit three hours to this lovely
little Japanese film I think you’ll
find the payoff worth it. Nothing
Earth-shattering happens here,
just people being people sorting
out their stuff.
Lastly this week, a clarification:
Most weekends, on either
Friday or Saturday night, you’ll
find me singing at Exit Zero in a
black T-shirt with a red star emblazoned
on the chest. It’s probably my
favorite T-shirt. It fits me well and I
don’t feel fat in it. We all have one of
those, right? Anyway, this T-shirt
is meant to convey my affection
for the Marvel Comics character
Winter Soldier, not for Russia. I
am anti-Russia. Check that: I am
pro-Russian, I am anti-Putin.
’Til next week, don’t get caught
in The Undertow.