Austin’s Black Angels are currently on tour, and, on Sunday, mr. and mrs. kamper will embark in our motorcar to the distant city of Boston, Commonwealth of Massachusetts to enjoy a live revue from this pop combo. We are frightfully excited to finally experience for ourselves this new thing the kids today are calling the ‘rock and roll.’ It’s been a long while indeed since the two of us ‘cut the rug’ at one of these vaudevillian cabarets, I do so hope we won’t stick out amongst the ruffians and scallawags known to frequent such speakeasies. I presume that a frock coat with silk-faced lapels, waistcoat, Cashmere striped trousers, ascot, and spats, of course accessorised with a top hat, boutonniere, and white gloves, would be appropriate for such an engagement?
Some months ago, we expressed our profound admiration for the Black Angels by bestowing upon them our highest honor: their very own edition of the Happy Valley Hoedown.
Happy Valley News Hour 
at the show–
“dude, look at those old people over there.”
“wha?”
“over there. like those people are really old.”
“yeah.”
“i think they’re drinking club soda.”
“totally.”
“shit. i thought this band was cool.”
finis
Hey, honey, I think this band may be too dark for me. May have to stay home with kiddies and think about fairies and elves, butterfly wings, the color pink, sky blue, bubble-making machines, how to spell CAT and SPOT. May not be ready for a world without Rudolph Steiner.
Either that or bring my earplugs.
Our big city rock and roll adventure has been successfully concluded. The Black Angels had many moments of transcendence, but overall were not as tight as I expected, perhaps an off night for them. The sound close to the stage was atrocious, with the vocals overwhelming a muddy mix. Following the old clubgoer’s adage, “If you want the best sound in the joint, stand in front of the sound board,” we moved to the rear of the club, and indeed the sound was much improved, plus allowed room for rhythmic gyrations between husband and wife.
Good show.
Note to pt dismal: for your information, mr. snarky, we did share a club soda w/lime, which mrs. kamper scored for free simply by flashing her baby blues at the bartender. Funny, I never get comped when I order.