This Is Why Two-Person Rock Bands Fail (or, A Call For Occasional Guest Writers)

For those of you keeping score at home, Zed's kicking my hiney all up and down the block when it comes to posting in these here parts. But this isn't going to be one of those "Sorry I haven't written in a while" posts. No, dear readers, we realize your time's far more valuable than the 41-cent stamperooni that would be required to mail that stinker in. (For more vociferous indictment of self-indulgent meta-writing, check out what our man in the U.K. recently had to say about it.)

This band was supposed to be a three-piece you know, with a few extras thrown in here and there for the tour dates. It all looked so pretty in theory. But alas, CGK (our theoretical third contributor) seems to have gone the way of a Spinal Tap drummer, his blogging life cut tragically short by spontaneous combustion. There he was, just drinking a beer at a Saturday afternoon barbecue just south of Moline and explaining to the woman nearest to him why she was fundamentally wrong about pretty much everything, and all of a sudden there was a flash of green light and WHAMMO - nothing left of him but a globule. That's what the eyewitnesses say, and they ain't lying 'cuz I was there. Saw it with my very own oculars I did.

Not everyone buys this story though. Zed swears on a stack of crushed Coors Light cans that the green globule was extraterrestrial residue, and that CKG was in fact brazenly abducted by aliens in broad daylight. While I find this unlikely, I have to admit it wouldn't be the first time little green men have been spotted in that part of the country.



Whether you're on the 'splosion side of the fence or the abduction side, the end result is the same - we're a two-piece now. You know what they call a two-piece rock band? A gimmick, that's what. As for those very few two-pieces that actually achieved some level of notoriety, you know what they call those bands? Talented gimmicks, that's what. Folks like The Spinanes? Flat Duo Jets? The Kills?

All gimmicks. Gimmicks with a special place in my heart, mind you, but gimmicks just the same. And don't even get me started on Roxette, which I refuse to link to on general principle. Furthermore, let me remind you that no matter how hot you thought the blonde in Roxette was, she turns fifty next month. The hot chick from Roxette is turning fifty?!?! Holy shit, what have I been doing with my life since 1989?!?!?!

Don't answer that, Zed. Show some mercy. After all, friends don't pile on when their friends use Roxette videos as mileposts in their life-arc.

Hold on, did I just link to...

Goddammit!!!!!!!!

Linking to a Roxette video. Me of all people. Gawd. That's not nostalgia, that's a cry for help.

Speaking of cries for help...

Zed and I envisioned this production as having three people who posted a good amount along with a sprinkling of other voices here and there. Between the two of us, we have friends and associates scattered far and wide across the globe, and what would really spruce this place up a bit would be occasional dispatches from some of these far-flung folks. Just a paragraph or two about what's going on in your corner of the world would do the trick. Think about it. Drop us a line at broncobillyblog[at]gmail[dot]com if you don't know our "real" email addresses. A few of you are about to get arm-twisted into submission anyway, and so you might as well just start typing 'cuz everyone knows volunteerism is infinitely preferable to coercion.

Sleep well, good citizens. You have been warned.