Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Sweat Band Of Liberty, Of Thee I Sing

phil red white and awful

Once again, and as aways, we find ourselves staring at a photo of Phil the way Nic Cage watched the snuff film in 8 MM, our primitive minds unable to tell the difference between actual horror and that on the screen and activating our adrenal glands and flooding our bodies with dumb, and fight.

try to find the apex of atrocity in this one: you’ll be wrong, unless you have a true Enthusiast’s eye.

It is not the “America, fuck yeah” theme he has going, as if he were invited to a locally-produced pro wrestling show on July fourth. Nor is it the haircut, which looks as if Phil is a suburban dad going through gender-reassignment.

It’s the backup sweatbands.


  1. Yeah, that’s funny. Also: the music stand. What, did they play some Mozart that night? What possible reason does the bassist of twenty years standing in an improvisational rock group need charts for.

  2. Um, yea. Phil’s got a “Sweat Band Guy” doesn’t he? Much like The Guy that supply Billy and Mickey with chilled towels for the post “Drums” wipe-down.

    The ledger stand? “Doodles” between sets. In Crayon.

  3. Funny how he only wears one. As if the right inner middle of his forearm is ultra sensitive. Possibly due to the electric shocking it received at Woodtsock.

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