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Showing posts from February, 2012

Bob Mould at World Cafe in Philadelphia

Can I get an amen when it comes to driving in Route 76 heading into Philadelphia from Plymouth Meeting, an amen to say we hear you loud and clear brother, the road is like a parking lot. Add some snow and some nonsense like a fender bender and two men pumping their fists towards each other chins in mock violence oh amen. I told my real brother (not you sister Lyn) we’re going to be late. But the road cleared as we approached the zoo and other exits bringing us closer to World CafĂ©. What exit? I don’t know. But we found WXPN and parked the black beast and jogged to the back doors to event and got in. I climbed up the steps since I knew I had mere minutes. Mould is punctual a no nonsense mother fucker who hit the stage exactly at 7:30 and we were there in the front row. This was a solo performance and reading from his autobiography, See A Little Light. But first let me describe the empty seats, the older faces, who are they? Face it they are us. Where are the rest of the punk …