Last night I went to see the Eels at the Fox Theatre in Boulder. It was my first concert in about ten years! The last concert I intentionally went to was to see Bluetip at Maxwell’s in Hoboken, New Jersey (which was great).

Once again, as I did when I went to see Bluetip, I went alone; Brenda hates going to shows, and I kind of do too, these days. For a kid who used to see a minimum of three bands a weekend from junior year of high school though college, my last couple decades seem pretty pathetic by comparison, but I have my reasons. I’m an old fart who doesn’t like people and crowds, as well as most new music. So naturally I’m not a fixture at clubs anymore, but the Eels drew me out of the house.

Thanks to my friend and former co-worker, I was introduced to the Eels a few years ago, back in New York. Led by Mark Oliver Everett, son of some sort of quantum physicist genius, the Eels have been inventing new music for the last decade and a half. Their music is alternately haunting, rocking, sad, happy, and always inspiring.

This year’s iteration of the Eels features Mark Everett (a.k.a. “E”) and a dude simply known as “The Chet”. Not Chet, The Chet. They both took turns playing instruments as diverse as the guitar, the piano, drums, xylophone, saw (serious), and others. They even shared a drum solo:

The show was very fun, tight and entertaining. Standing room only, I was tapping my toes and bobbing my head in the aisle at what is now my favorite venue ever. The Fox Theatre is a tiny venue; it feels like you’re having a band come over to your house to jam in your living room. And the Eels are known for their covers, and this tour did not disappoint. This year the cover of choice is Led Zeppelin’s “Good Times Bad Times”, and E and The Chet rocked it as hard as Zep ever did. The Chet was playing a very cool Gibson Les Paul with a tremolo bar, and you can enjoy a segment of the cover here:

A great night of music and fun. Rode my bike home from the show in the rain, drunk, bombing down the hill along Colorado Avenue. Gotta love it.

I’m so distraught, I put it into song:

The Night the TiVo Died
(sung to the tune of Paper Lace’s “The Night Chicago Died”)

In the chill of a winter’s night
In the land of the yoga hippies
When Rob & Brenda’s TiVo died
And they talk about it still

When Rob arrived home from work
Brenda displayed a nervous quirk
She said “I have some bad news”
And then she gestured towards the tube

We heard Robbie cry
We heard him pray the night the TiVo died
Brother what a night it really was
Brother what a plight it really was
Live TV

We heard Robbie cry
We heard him pray the night the TiVo died
Brother what a night the people saw
Live TV and no pause
Yes indeed

And the box it would not light
What’s happened to the shows
And Rob considered his plight
And said “this really, really blows”

We heard Robbie cry
We heard him pray the night the TiVo died
Gonna miss stuff when I pee
Maybe it’s time we got HDTV
Glory Be…

Seriously; after almost four years, the damned thing just took a shit on us, and I’m now looking for the next thing to replace it.

Today, a co-worker shared some of his recordings from when he was in a band. They had toured for a couple years, playing mostly in the Atlanta area, and were reasonably competent. A discussion arose regarding band names; I may have possibly brought it up.

You see, I have some really solid names for bands, and it pisses me off that I lack the musical talent, connections and material to plug into a band name. And tonight, I hit on the greatest album name ever, so now I’m really feeling down.

Lemme start with the band name: There are a few towns in New Jersey all ending with “Amboy”, such as South Amboy, and Perth Amboy. When you drive through central New Jersey, you can easily come across a highway exit sign or two with destination references to, simply, “The Amboys”.

The Amboys. Perhaps the Greatest Band Name Ever. Done.

This easily eclipses my alternate band name of “Best Before”, which I feel is a witty play on the bread expiry dates found on those little plastic things you clip on bread loaves to stave off staleness. I always held these two band names on equal footing until today. For today, I was listening to NPR and heard a phrase that could only be the title for The Amboys’ much-awaited second album: “Happy Zacarias”. (The Amboys’ first album would of course be eponoymously titled.)

The Amboys, Happy Zacarias. I’m totally seeing this as a hot download on the iTunes Music Store, aren’t you?

So how’d the title come about? Well, the radio was talking about Zacarias Moussaoui’s trial and how his defense lawyers (just when you thought Johnnie C was a piece of shit) were arguing that his childhood was a happy one, and the term “happy Zacarias” was floated out there. I thought it was pure brilliance, and was immediately delighted to have secured the second album title for my non-existent band’s follow-up to my non-existent band’s non-existent and eponoymously-titled first album. So, if I ever progress beyond barre chords and actually write a few tunes, you can bet that they will be unleashed on an unassuming public by The Amboys, with our best work appearing on “Happy Zacarias”.

Our later releases will likely suck, but I will still get interviews in Rolling Stone because of my personality, bitches.