Dalloways-Filthies scandal hits the Bakersfield music scene during Loveday-Loggins - By N.L. Belardes
Forget what you heard about kitty cat art. Toss aside any notion that Fatt Katt and I are going to fisticuffs over felines in suits. Now for the real scoundrel scandal in the Bakersfield music scene…
This grassroots reporter, minding his own beeswax last night, hungry and on the prowl for a Fish Fry burger—only to come up empty-handed again and ending up at Denny’s with none other than Pablo Alaniz of Diary/Norfolk fame…oh THAT’s another story—and there I was, just before I got to the Fish Fry, and hanging out at a local coffeehouse where those pretentious peeps from the local paper hang out. You know the type: “Ohhh, helloouu there, man with the camera, are you a reporter? Oh no? A blogger/novelist? Oh, well, harrummmphh… well.” And there I was, leaning against a rack of cookies (not some hot babe) when in walked Gerhard Enns and Nico Rhodes of that dashingly debonair Brit Pop California Dreamy Lounge Pop Tutti Frutti Fresh and Melodic Bakersfield/Fresno band, The Dalloways…
“Oh, hello, Gerhard,” I said as I snapped a photo of Loveday who all seemed pretty comfy in their coffeehouse moment.
Gerhard wore a dashing pair of yoga-karate pants, while his lovely paint-by-numbers keyboardist, Nico, turned up her nose and simply smirked, “Oh, look who came to the Loveday lovefest, if it isn’t the local conspiracy theorist himself.”
“Hi Nico. They let you out of prison for the evening?”
“You going to let him talk to me like that,” she said, her eyes growing wide as if ‘how dare he?’ were on her lips.
“Hey, that’s my keyboardist,” Gerhard grumbled.
“Fine, I won’t talk about Nico’s prison uniform. But control your bandmates there, Captain Jack.”
Just then Nico seemed about to attack.
“OK, look, what do you two want? I’m working an angle on this band. I want a photo of the singer next to a big empty chair and I’m going to get it.”
“Fine, N.L., you take that picture. Take some more while you’re at it. You only have twelve readers anyways.”
“Ten, if the both of you quit reading my dirty laundry.” Nico just stood there, her mouth dropped open, and aghast that I would even stand in newspaper coffeehouse heartland and snap at her. Hell, I won’t even talk to Fatt Katt about kitty art the way I push the Dalloways around. “Look, don’t the two of you have a latte to buy or some crumpets to crunch? I’m missing my photo ops of crowds high on caffeine, buzzing to the tune-age.”
“Sounds like little Mr. Scene writer doesn’t want the scandalous news,” Nico suddenly said.
I was about to snap a photo of the old glam pop Loveday drummer when I had to dig a little deeper into what Nico Rhodes was all about. “Scandal? What scandal?”
She had a coffee stirrer that she flipped around with her fingers for a few moments. I wasn’t sure if she really had something to say or if she was going to stab me with that little piece of wood. “Oh, a Dalloways scandal. But you don’t really want to know, do you?”
“A Dalloways scandal?”
“Oh, Gary wary wuvpooky, I don’t think he wants to hear our scandal. Let’s go watch the show…”
“Wait a minute. No, you can’t do that. You and Mr. Karate pants better spill the beans.”
“Or what? Or you won’t have anything for your precious Paperback Writer blog? Nice Filipina story, by the way.”
“Closet readers. Fess up!”
Although Loveday had been performing with Mimi Dorsey crooning to some jazzy jams in the coffeehouse ambience, all seemed to go quiet just then. I could no longer hear the soft brushes across the drums, the acoustic blending of jazz meets rock fusion. We all leaned in close by the coffeehouse counter. Gerhard’s karate-yoga pants seemed extra ruffled. I tried to ignore them. “It’s a… scandalous song,” Gerhard slowly let out.
Nico added a few words; her eyes shifted to the side almost as if she were lying, “Yes, it’s got cursing.”
No! Not the Dalloways. This isn’t an angry band at all; just angry people. What could they be up to? What could they be suggesting? A raucous cursing Brit Pop jam? I wanted to know more. I never expected such scandalous turns from the alternative lounge rockers.
Gerhard continued, “The title is ‘Kenny Filthy’.”
“What? Kenny Filthy?? A song about Kenny ‘Motor’ Mount?”
“Now you just wait. We didn’t suggest such a thing,” Nico said. She had a snarl on her face that meant not to get to close or she would certainly snap.
Gerhard added, “All I can say is we are premiering the song at McGees on March 31st. We’ve been waiting for the right moment to tell you. I will say it is a story about a punk guy.”
“But Kenny Mount? What did he do to deserve your deviant lyric writing? Is there a war between brit pop and rural rock punk that I don’t know about? I mean, the song is ‘Kenny Filthy’.” Wow, I could just see the local Bakersfield music war blowing up. Soon Kenny will write a song about Brit Pop Diva Dumpster Divers, or worse… a rural rock opera punk ballad titled, DeDoDeDoDalloways. Even I would never dare to write a song about Fatt Katt; you know our kitty cat falling out. Besides, Fatt Katt and I, as well as Les Paw, privately declared an end to the kitty art wars. It was really peaceful all along. But this was different. This was sinister. This was SCANDALOUS!
“That’s all we can say. A war? You’ll find out soon enough…”
And that was it. They wouldn’t say anything more. They rubbed noses with Mimi Dorsey after that. I wasn’t sure if she were playing dumb or just didn’t know. “N.L. What?” she said.
“nlbelardes.com”
“Never heard of you.”
Gerhard looked perplexed. “You were both at Bakersfield Bob’s birthday party. I saw the photos.”
“Go figure.”
That was enough for me. I was out the door to the Fish Fry to see Crosby Loggins and the Leadbirds. These Supertramp meets Footloose meets Bakersfield slightly country style pop keep showing up at the Fish Fry. They recently changed their name from Crosby Loggins and the Namedroppers (which was a much better band name I think) to add the Leadbirds (as in led, not leed).
I stayed just long enough to catch their first set and a little more. There was no scandal in the air, although Crosby did tell a funny story about hearing his dad’s name on the radio in a funny skit about a Hendrix-Loggins song. It was almost as if he didn’t understand that his dad’s name is a big part of pop culture.
Anyways, these guys are extremely talented and should wow the pop scene as the talent within the band is extremely deep. I do have to admit that Crosby needs to work on his stage presence a little more. Why? Paul Cartwright stole the show. Although I was given a demo CD that has really strong pop songs, the CD lacks the violin intensity of the performance I saw. The CD features rocking pop tunes where the violin is an ethereal shadow at best. For Crosby Loggins fans, Paul Cartwright will be lost except in the live performances. This is a band clearly about Crosby Loggins. He seems to be following his father’s footloosey footsteps in those regards.
The violin was the best part of the show. Paul jammed on his violin like it was a guitar. He fiddled and plucked and was so energetic that I found myself paying more attention to how he so easily played than I was to Crosby’s stiffness and mild humor.
What carried Crosby was his name and mastery over his pop-vocal style. I saw people just looking at him with whispers of “Kenny Loggins” in the air. But then during the show I saw eyes turning to Paul Cartwright, who is clearly one of the best violinists I have ever seen…
This grassroots reporter, minding his own beeswax last night, hungry and on the prowl for a Fish Fry burger—only to come up empty-handed again and ending up at Denny’s with none other than Pablo Alaniz of Diary/Norfolk fame…oh THAT’s another story—and there I was, just before I got to the Fish Fry, and hanging out at a local coffeehouse where those pretentious peeps from the local paper hang out. You know the type: “Ohhh, helloouu there, man with the camera, are you a reporter? Oh no? A blogger/novelist? Oh, well, harrummmphh… well.” And there I was, leaning against a rack of cookies (not some hot babe) when in walked Gerhard Enns and Nico Rhodes of that dashingly debonair Brit Pop California Dreamy Lounge Pop Tutti Frutti Fresh and Melodic Bakersfield/Fresno band, The Dalloways…
“Oh, hello, Gerhard,” I said as I snapped a photo of Loveday who all seemed pretty comfy in their coffeehouse moment.
Gerhard wore a dashing pair of yoga-karate pants, while his lovely paint-by-numbers keyboardist, Nico, turned up her nose and simply smirked, “Oh, look who came to the Loveday lovefest, if it isn’t the local conspiracy theorist himself.”
“Hi Nico. They let you out of prison for the evening?”
“You going to let him talk to me like that,” she said, her eyes growing wide as if ‘how dare he?’ were on her lips.
“Hey, that’s my keyboardist,” Gerhard grumbled.
“Fine, I won’t talk about Nico’s prison uniform. But control your bandmates there, Captain Jack.”
Just then Nico seemed about to attack.
“OK, look, what do you two want? I’m working an angle on this band. I want a photo of the singer next to a big empty chair and I’m going to get it.”
“Fine, N.L., you take that picture. Take some more while you’re at it. You only have twelve readers anyways.”
“Ten, if the both of you quit reading my dirty laundry.” Nico just stood there, her mouth dropped open, and aghast that I would even stand in newspaper coffeehouse heartland and snap at her. Hell, I won’t even talk to Fatt Katt about kitty art the way I push the Dalloways around. “Look, don’t the two of you have a latte to buy or some crumpets to crunch? I’m missing my photo ops of crowds high on caffeine, buzzing to the tune-age.”
“Sounds like little Mr. Scene writer doesn’t want the scandalous news,” Nico suddenly said.
I was about to snap a photo of the old glam pop Loveday drummer when I had to dig a little deeper into what Nico Rhodes was all about. “Scandal? What scandal?”
She had a coffee stirrer that she flipped around with her fingers for a few moments. I wasn’t sure if she really had something to say or if she was going to stab me with that little piece of wood. “Oh, a Dalloways scandal. But you don’t really want to know, do you?”
“A Dalloways scandal?”
“Oh, Gary wary wuvpooky, I don’t think he wants to hear our scandal. Let’s go watch the show…”
“Wait a minute. No, you can’t do that. You and Mr. Karate pants better spill the beans.”
“Or what? Or you won’t have anything for your precious Paperback Writer blog? Nice Filipina story, by the way.”
“Closet readers. Fess up!”
Although Loveday had been performing with Mimi Dorsey crooning to some jazzy jams in the coffeehouse ambience, all seemed to go quiet just then. I could no longer hear the soft brushes across the drums, the acoustic blending of jazz meets rock fusion. We all leaned in close by the coffeehouse counter. Gerhard’s karate-yoga pants seemed extra ruffled. I tried to ignore them. “It’s a… scandalous song,” Gerhard slowly let out.
Nico added a few words; her eyes shifted to the side almost as if she were lying, “Yes, it’s got cursing.”
No! Not the Dalloways. This isn’t an angry band at all; just angry people. What could they be up to? What could they be suggesting? A raucous cursing Brit Pop jam? I wanted to know more. I never expected such scandalous turns from the alternative lounge rockers.
Gerhard continued, “The title is ‘Kenny Filthy’.”
“What? Kenny Filthy?? A song about Kenny ‘Motor’ Mount?”
“Now you just wait. We didn’t suggest such a thing,” Nico said. She had a snarl on her face that meant not to get to close or she would certainly snap.
Gerhard added, “All I can say is we are premiering the song at McGees on March 31st. We’ve been waiting for the right moment to tell you. I will say it is a story about a punk guy.”
“But Kenny Mount? What did he do to deserve your deviant lyric writing? Is there a war between brit pop and rural rock punk that I don’t know about? I mean, the song is ‘Kenny Filthy’.” Wow, I could just see the local Bakersfield music war blowing up. Soon Kenny will write a song about Brit Pop Diva Dumpster Divers, or worse… a rural rock opera punk ballad titled, DeDoDeDoDalloways. Even I would never dare to write a song about Fatt Katt; you know our kitty cat falling out. Besides, Fatt Katt and I, as well as Les Paw, privately declared an end to the kitty art wars. It was really peaceful all along. But this was different. This was sinister. This was SCANDALOUS!
“That’s all we can say. A war? You’ll find out soon enough…”
And that was it. They wouldn’t say anything more. They rubbed noses with Mimi Dorsey after that. I wasn’t sure if she were playing dumb or just didn’t know. “N.L. What?” she said.
“nlbelardes.com”
“Never heard of you.”
Gerhard looked perplexed. “You were both at Bakersfield Bob’s birthday party. I saw the photos.”
“Go figure.”
That was enough for me. I was out the door to the Fish Fry to see Crosby Loggins and the Leadbirds. These Supertramp meets Footloose meets Bakersfield slightly country style pop keep showing up at the Fish Fry. They recently changed their name from Crosby Loggins and the Namedroppers (which was a much better band name I think) to add the Leadbirds (as in led, not leed).
I stayed just long enough to catch their first set and a little more. There was no scandal in the air, although Crosby did tell a funny story about hearing his dad’s name on the radio in a funny skit about a Hendrix-Loggins song. It was almost as if he didn’t understand that his dad’s name is a big part of pop culture.
Anyways, these guys are extremely talented and should wow the pop scene as the talent within the band is extremely deep. I do have to admit that Crosby needs to work on his stage presence a little more. Why? Paul Cartwright stole the show. Although I was given a demo CD that has really strong pop songs, the CD lacks the violin intensity of the performance I saw. The CD features rocking pop tunes where the violin is an ethereal shadow at best. For Crosby Loggins fans, Paul Cartwright will be lost except in the live performances. This is a band clearly about Crosby Loggins. He seems to be following his father’s footloosey footsteps in those regards.
The violin was the best part of the show. Paul jammed on his violin like it was a guitar. He fiddled and plucked and was so energetic that I found myself paying more attention to how he so easily played than I was to Crosby’s stiffness and mild humor.
What carried Crosby was his name and mastery over his pop-vocal style. I saw people just looking at him with whispers of “Kenny Loggins” in the air. But then during the show I saw eyes turning to Paul Cartwright, who is clearly one of the best violinists I have ever seen…
This entry was posted by N.L. Belardes, on
Saturday, March 04, 2006.
You can leave your response.
Since the title of this article implies scandal between The Dalloways and The Filthies, we thought it only fitting to respond.
Look, N.L., Nico and I never said our new song "Kenny Filthy" was about Kenny Mount of the Filthies. It is NOT called "Kenny Mount" or "Kenny Motor" or "Kenny the Rural Punk Rocker" or "Kenny the Funeral Director." But even if it was about him, who's to say it's not a love song ... with cursing?
We will most likely be debuting the song at our McGee's gig in Bakersfield March 31 (unless, of course, the muckrakers decide to set the pot to boil--in which case, we might be forced to pull the song altogether). If folks, including The Filthies and N.L. would like to hear it, they can make up their own minds about who/what the song is about.
Nico says I should end with xo, just in case we sound too serious. So...
xo
Now that is a SCANDALOUS response! What will Kenny Mount say?! Who will be next? What will other reporters do about such a Bakersfield music scene scandal in their midst?
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