I don't want to give Rhys, my nephew, full credit for this.
Admittedly, he's also given the thumbs up to a few of my other, favorite current musical turns, Skrillex, and The Black Keys being among them, but you can't let it go to his head. Next thing you know, he'll be trying to fake deep love for some Bieber-liscious character to trick me.
Anyhow, for now he's on the right track musically, as last night's show proved.
Thee Parkside is a rickety old place, precariously placed on a corner of 17th Street in Potrero Hill. I say "precariously", because at any moment some delivery truck is going to pile into it and send it to that graveyard for rickety old places in the sky.
Until then it serves as a venue for those acts that mostly cannot get a gig at Bottom of The Hill, just a short lurch along 17th Street.
Of course, that cannot be said of the modern-day and friendlier Billy Bragg. Frank Turner, along with his band The Sleeping Souls are witty, and write great English songs. Now, there's a challenge for you Rhys.
Supported last night by Sharks, a UK punk band, with a song-writer who claims Charles Bukowski's poetry is a big influence on his writing. Must be Bukowski's drunk-as-a-skunk period.
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