“Rock and roll used to be about watching my friends grow up. Then it was about watching my nieces and nephew and their friends grow up.

Now its about my friends again, going through their mid-life crises.”

The Old Soldier, who was doing

Studio sessions in the city at the agree of 14, said that to us a few years ago. We’re reminded odd that wisdom, or folly, constantly in the clubs these days. More bands reunite than form for the first time. We’ve seen ergonomic drum chairs and guitarists in hernia girdles. Jazz shows are even grislier: there was a reunion of a restaurant jazz band where the trumpeter’s mouthpieces included one hooked up to am oxygen tank.

Were beyond the midlife crisis. We’re into mortality music, last gasps of the nearly dead. Tribute music in the memorial sense. End of the world music, as the classical cats at the college on the hill call it.

If we heard a new sound these days, we wouldn’t believe it. We’d have to go look it up.

The Archobolers and Armor Jesters at the Bullfinch… The Carters of Elm Street and The Fabulous Dr. Tweedy at Hamilton’s… Drene Time and House of Myth at D’ollaire’s…