“I usually only have anonymous sex with people that I don’t know.”

That astute observation from a local scenester has been mocked as if it came from some great aphorism-garbling ballplayer of yore. But in rockspeak it nearly makes sense. This musician has the luxury of fleeing town and touring on a regular basis. That’s where true anonymity lies.

Don’t dirty the nest by sleeping with co-workers, any office grunt will tell you. Good advice, hard for some to keep. To a working musician, your immediate job-related social circle can number in the thousands. Yet some impressively tread that line between being unwilling to settle down and being TOO available.

So this muso walks into a bar, hundreds of miles from here, and apparently meets a soulmate. Here, it’s all crawl-off-to-sleep-in-the-bath, while there, amazingly, there’s an apartment and shared expenses and housekeeping.

Why not just leave town, and move in full-time? “What, and leave the scene?!” Seriously, that’s the reaction we got when we told this wandering minstrel that we’d learned of this stable out-of-town romance.

To the lucky elsewhere spouse: We can vouch for the fact that you never need be jealous of another human being encroaching on your loved one: adultery’s absolutely not in the repertoire. A local riff, however, or that wondrous feeling that comes over you when you’re on the back deck of the Finch discussing college loans or other local industry while sipping a freshly brewed house ale—well, that’s your competition.

Happy homemaking.

Tonight at the Finch, a bill better suited for Hamilton’s—popular rock from the Netflices, with high school emo epistolators Lost an Envelope and metal mockers Problem Playing opening. At Hamilton’s, a bill even better suited for Hamilton’s—reggae retreads Yellowthroat, mainstream “crazies” The Nuthatch and—what this?—downcast solo provocateur Grouse, spreading his wings into a new venue. Shout out “Don’t Play That Song” and see if he smiles.