Oct. 13, 2013


I didn’t quite catch the name of the band on Friday night – alien something.

A four-piece, all male,  mid-20s band with two acoustic guitars that played Nirvana-like rock, nothing too heavy, nothing very loud, and mostly nothing anybody could dance to.

This bar as opposed to the bar up the street catered to an older crowd, but even this music as a little too laid back for them, and a few couples left to seek out the younger place so they could twist a little before the night was over or before this band could put us all to sleep.

In this bar, no dance means low interest.

We thought about stopping over in the other place after the first set, but after a long days journey into night through rain, thunder and Atlantic City-bound madmen on the road, we needed no boring band to close our eyes after two drinks.

Last night, after the play, we went back to the same bar. This time, they had a party band called Doc Hollywood that more than made up to the audience for the sleepy hollow-like impact of the previous night’s band

Doc Hollywood was an over populated band with drummer, bass, two electric guitars and two singers – a mal and female who switched off with each song in strung-together sets of non-stop pop songs.  Even if the song was not pop when broadcast on radio or mp3, this band made it sound pop, with all but the drummer and one guitars hopping up and down like agitated energizer bunnies to mimic or perhaps excite the audience into doing the same, forcing us all into a party mood even if that wasn’t the mood we wanted.

I thought better of the girl singer than others did. She had a good voice and provided good harmonies when she was not singing lead.

But the male singer was a real performer, straight out of the days or razzmatazz, a grinning, exciting character who swayed on the microphone stand like a sea captain on the deck of a stormy ship. He got people to respond better than she did, even if she was better to look at.

The band was very tight, managing to keep the beat even when they bobbed up and down.

This was largely due to the skills of the second and clearly more serious guitarist, who did all his gymnastics with his guitar not his feet or body.

I would have stayed on for a second set, but again, it had been a long day dodging rain drops and doing the usual Cape May routine, and so after a few drinks and a lot of music, we made our way back to the motel at the other end of town.



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