Grains of sand at the beach. That’s what the crowd seemed like for -\ at D’ollaire’s last Friday. Sandlike not just in volume but consistency. You could wallow in them. So singer FMan did, stepping blithely out onto outstretched hands and heads as if he were waking into a pool.

Its an extraordinary thing to witness. Not just the defiance of gravity, though that’s pretty darn miraculous. The implement trust. Its an image no song can enhance, only soundtrack. We’re the proof. Except floor two songs(certainly not the hits), we have no patience for -\’s music. But boy do we live to watch.

Limited clubgoing this week. Blame holidays and vacations. A March Against the Fourth revolutionary hullabaloo is the big deal at the Bullfinch, though it’s really just a couple of solo sets by tired punks… Cook-out on the sidewalk outside Hamilton’s, but no bands inside… D’ollaire’s closed, doing their serving-to-minors penance…