....not a lot of artists in the road right now but there're a few with buns in the oven. Here's a few releases that'll keep you from taking the bridge:

-Courtney Love --- Maximum Courtney Love, April 3

-Joy Division --- Closer (re-release), March 27

-Yardbirds Story: 1963-66 ---The Yardbirds, March 29

And let me just say listening to radio in Australia --- its content, its lack of commercial bullshit, and its loose on-air restrictions --- convinced me of two things: Airborne is gonna be the next band to watch, and we here in America are kidding ourselves if we still think we're living in the land of the free.

I braved the tundra my first night back out to support BML, which was taping its Friday night show for an upcoming DVD. I figured the crowd would be light, what with the weather and all, but the joint was full. Show openers The Isotopes bailed as their drummer broke his foot and they had to put him down. I caught all of Sulaco's set. The band's sound physically pushes air, creating a kind of jet wash from the stage. It's metal in the classic sense, and though the band members act as if they're being ironic sometimes, they play too well, sound too good, and have too thorough an understanding of genuine metal to be dismissed. I'd only seen Sulaco before at the Bug Jar, where the volume was way too big for the little club. At Water Street, Sulaco's sound got some legs.

Split from the Shakedown to the Bug Jar Sunday night to catch the first big punk extravaganza with The Dwarves, The Turbo A.C.'s, The Blastoffs, and The UV Rays. Shagged and jet-lagged I only stuck around for NYC's Turbo A.C.'s, who were just fantastic --- muscle-car loud, greasy and fast. I haven't seen this band in about four years, and it seems guitarist/singer Kevin Cole is the only original cat left. This line-up is real tight with a beautiful twin Paul attack with antagonizing groove and sex appeal. Rock 'n' roll the way they used to make it.

I was gonna need a nudge to see The Nuge get noteworthy Friday night as the numbing wind chill spanked the thermometer stupid outside. Rochester International Jazz Festival promoter and all-around swingin' saxocat John Nugent was sitting in this weekend with jazz guitarist Bob Sneider and his group at The Grill at Strathallan.

Once the steam emanating from my chest cleared, my eyes fell on a cozy scene. The band parked itself on the floor to one side and swung mellow and righteous, frequently giving way to one another for solomente sojourns to elsewhere. The joint was filled, with this town's equivalent to the smart set.

Or rather, the loud set.

People at the bar talked loudly in a sort of self-important symphony. They weren't there to see the band. I was.

Sure, I gotta press the flesh and kibitz a little when I make the scene. But I'm there to hear the music.

And honestly, I get that impression a lot at jazz shows around here. Here's a style of music --- in particular Nugent's mellow tone and groove --- that's perfect for a little one-on-one, face-to-face, cheek-to-cheek time; communiqués all delivered sub rosa, on the DL, under your breath, or better yet, implied. Yet it had to compete with the chin music at the bar.

Look, I'm the last one to be giving lectures about raising hell, volume, or general inappropriateness. But it shouldn't steamroll the band, man. Let the music be your guide, the soundtrack to your passion pitch.

Who knows, if the guy in the green cardigan and the rusty nail had brought it down to a roar --- or at least done it in time to the music --- maybe he wouldn't have struck out...

As the magnitude of the Rochester International Jazz Fest grows, it's getting increasingly harder for promoter John Nugent to keep things under wraps until the line-up announcement in April.

Last year, thanks to a little stealth, City Newspaper was able to announce several major artists well before Nugent's press conference, including James Brown and Etta James. It wasn't that we liked spoiling surprises; it's just that, well, it was so damn exciting we just had to share.

But now Nugent's toying with us. He's put a gag order on booking agents, publicists, and record labels to prevent leaks. Yet he jokes with us and drops little hints. And with those hints and some haphazard deduction, we've started to speculate about some Jazz Fest line-up possibilities and non-possibilities.

YEA

Nugent, referring to the late Godfather of Soul's appearance last summer, hints that he has an equally wild artist coming this year. Whose classic boogie-woogie and rock 'n' roll music might appeal to jazz fans? Who might be somewhat physically aggressive on stage? Who has a new album out? Jerry Lee Lewis.

Norah Jones went big time right about the same time she played the first JazzFest. She just released a new album and would certainly pack the Eastman Theatre. She owes us.

Allen Toussaint and Elvis Costello just did an album together, and Costello's album with Metropole Orkest My Flame Burns Blue from last year is positively swingin'. And Costello's old lady Diana Krall tickles the ivories and sings as breathy and hot as Julie London. How about that for a triple bill?

NAY

Andy Summers might be a good crossover artist. He did an album a few years back dedicated to Thelonious Monk. But with The Police reuniting (and it feels so good) for the Grammy Awards, a tour is inevitable, so that rules Summers out.

Tom Waits would be an amazing addition but is adamant about not doing anything with corporate sponsorship.

YOUR GUESS

We're inviting readers to submit their own speculations --- wild as they may be. Follow our logic and see how close you've come when Nugent makes it all official. Post your guesses below!

Rochester had two Atlanta connections to last night's Grammy Awards. Big up to Eastman alum Christopher Theofanidis, who won a Grammy in the Best Contemporary Classical Composition category for his The Here and Now, performed by Robert Spano and the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra.

But, alas the Atlanta-based Mastodon lost out to Slayer in The Best Metal Performance category. I gotta admit, that new Slayer video is riveting and I'm positive this wasn't Mastodon's last nomination. See why this Wednesday at Water Street Music Hall.

The rest of the Grammy's just bored me. I love the Police --- they were my first big concert way back in 1982 --- and the hype was huge for their Grammy-opening appearance. And there will undoubtedly be a frenzied stampede for tickets for the inevitable reunion tour, but "Roxanne" came off rather ho-hum. Maybe Sting should've put in the red light. But they looked great --- Sting in particular. To quote my editor, "That man knows how to moisturize.

The Rascal Flatts tribute to The Eagles was wretched; Mary J. Blige is overrated; Beyonce oversings; The Red Hot Chili Peppers' new record kinda falls short; and I don't like Ludacris' new haircut. However, some may be surprised to hear I like Christina Aguilera's "Ain't No Other Man."

Maybe Andy Summers can come and play after all, given that dull rendition of "Roxanne" The Police pulled out on the Grammys. I was thinking, after the awesome night of swingin' the Jack Allen Big Band gave us last year, it might be a good idea if The Nuge got Royal Crown Revue, The Brian Setzer Orchestra, The Big Town Playboys, The Mighty Blue Kings, Savage Faith and the Believers, or the George Gee Big Band. Jazz fan or not, young or old, alive or dead, you simply cannot resist this stuff. And of course, I keep hearing rumours about the 2007 line-up, but before I commit to anything, I'd better Take 5...

I feel for bands like Johnny Smoke. The band rocks live and has an equally rockin' new CD, For A Dollar. Yet the band's show at Spenders last Friday night was predominantly covers --- good covers, but nothing compared to its originals. And I blame this on a large segment of the Rochester rock audience. You know who you are: you're lazy, you're unimaginative, you suck. Yeah, yeah I know --- everyone wants to sing along and nod their mullet in familiar approval. But there once was a time when, oh, let's say that Led Zeppelin song you've heard a million times, was new to you and you gave it a chance. Every time you listen to it now, that's time out of your life you could've been listening to Johnny Smoke's "Real Love" or "Freedom." You'd probably even know some of the words by now. Johnny Smoke is rock 'n' roll in the vein of these worn-out classics, but fresh and new and exciting. Give 'em a chance.

For a man in a turtleneck, New York City's Paul Mark sure sings and slings like a mighty, mean man. Known more as a blues artist, Mark has constantly strived to push its vernacular and purpose. It's still the blues all right, but Mark and his band The Van Dorens don't just park and shuffle around the same ol' eight or 12 bars, but barrel through with Mark's soulful baritone and luxurious guitar work leading the charge. And lyrically this cat is a master storyteller, full of wit, wisdom, class, and self-effacing honesty.

The band swung like a slick sledgehammer Saturday night at The Dinosaur as the dance floor bristled and boiled with varying degrees of moneymaker-shaking talent. This included a couple that copped a sort of sultry, sexy, swing/tango hybrid. The band wound the Dino spring tighter and tighter (and louder and louder), bringing the music and the mood to multiple crescendos. Mark positively wrung his guitar's neck releasing a flurry of meaty twang. Hell, Paul Mark and the Van Dorens' sound as voluptuous and irresistible as two Mamie Van Dorens.

You know you're hardcore when all this snow still can't cool your jones for the blues or BBQ. So after seeing Molly Ringwald in "Sweet Charit"y (it's about hookers, you know) me and the better half braved the precipitating precipitation and headed to  the Dinosaur for some grub 'n' grind. Too Tall and the Howlin Mercy Blues band supplied the beat in which to eat. Too Tall positively dwarfed his Strat but still made it sound as big as he is. I got to sit in on a coupla shuffles after they dug into the Prince library....four white dudes playing "Purple Rain" in a blizzard. And the dish ran away with the spoon...

Stopped into the Bug Jar just long enough to catch a coupla tunes from the Baby Shambles Ensemble as the members sang a song about wanting to be friends with a bear. The line-up --- cello, ukelele, guitar, and elctric piano --- was fractured, fragile, and beautiful. The gang vocals were like the marriage of a drinking song with a lullaby. Expect to be hearing more from them.

Rochester punk rock darlings The UV Rays just announced they will support punk legends Gang Green on a U.S. tour this spring, including shows in GG's hometown of Boston. Holy shit!

You know you're hardcore when all this snow still can't cool your jones for the blues or BBQ. So after seeing Molly Ringwald in Sweet Charity (it's about hookers, you know), me and the better half braved the precipitating precipitation and headed to the Dinosaur for some grub ‘n' grind. Too Tall and the Howlin' Mercy Blues Band supplied the beat in which to eat. Too Tall positively dwarfed his Strat but still made it sound as big as he is. I got to sit in on a coupla shuffles after they dug into the Prince library. Four white dudes playing "Purple Rain" in a blizzard. And the dish ran away with the spoon...

Thursday night trident troubadour Eric Bibb held the modest German House crowd in the palm of his hand. His slick finger style plucked and chimed, traveling warmly beyond the blues or folk as he baritone'd his stories on top. I dig cats like this so much ‘cause inevitably I'll get zapped with a thought or theory that won't leave. In passing, Bibb remarked that our concept of past, future, and present tense probably isn't what we think it is. I can't explain why, but I think I know what he meant. Adding some enchantment to the evening was Derek Campbell, who played some sweet call-and-response sacred steel in Bibb's second set.

Brooklyn's Phonograph brought asphalt Americana to the Bug Jar Friday night. Each song the band played seemed perched on the edge of an epic, as it explored and wrung all the possibilities over the heads of the audience. Well written songs neighboring chaos.

Eddie Nebula and the Plague absolutely rocked Dub Land Underground Saturday night. The band doesn't sacrifice power for fun and Nebula has got an enormous upper-vocal register --- and that's without falsetto, baby. Dub Land is an oasis; a cool, live music basement joint in an area that is for the most part soulless and lacking when it comes to live, original music. I kinda got a vintage Scorgies vibe as I descended the stairs. The fist-pumpin', drink-spillin', ass-shakin' crowd was rambunctious and rowdy as it ate up Plague classics like "Rochester Girls" and "Devourer Of Souls."

After prying my ass of the couch, I got all the way down to the Dinosaur to find out swamp bluesman Jimbo Mathus had bailed on the whole tour. Apparently he has marital problems, financial problems....his world is collapsing. Well s'far as I'm concerned that's when it's best to hit the road with your guitar. But alas no jimbo. The replacement act, Scotty Mac and the Gold Tops, bopped solid with soundman Scott Sterling jumping in at one point to resurect Lou Reed and The Modern Lovers.

Blues legend and walking blues encyclopedia John Hammond will play Thursday, May 17, at  Water Street Music Hall, 204 North Water Street, 325-5600, at 8 p.m., call for more info.

Man, Dr. Lonnie Smith is one cool cat. His B-3 pumped and swirled smoothly before two enthusiastic crowds at Venu last night. The joint was positively sardined as Smith and guitarist Mel Henderson and drummer Yuron Israel laid it down. Smith even sang a tribute of sorts to Johnny Mathis, holding the last note for easily a minute and a half. At one point, his fingers left the keyboard but continued to play as he held them up - as if summoning something out of the audience.

Reminiscing about his Buffalo rock 'n' roll days (as he described a greasy pre-turban coif that sounded a lot like mine), he was interrupted by a cat in the crowd who had apparently sung with him in The Teen Kings. Big hugs were shared on stage. A first-rate gig.

After prying my ass off the couch Wednesday night, I got all the way down to the Dinosaur to find swamp bluesman and ex-Squirrel Nut Zipper Jimbo Mathus had bailed on his whole 18-city tour. Apparently he really has the blues --- you know, marital problems, financial woes....his world is collapsing. Well s'far as I'm concerned that's when it's time to hit the road with your guitar. Hurt and happiness frequently sound the same with only body language to tell the truth beneath the tale. A good audience feeds on that truth and sustains the musician. All of a sudden he ain't so broke or quite so lonely. But alas no Jimbo. The last-minute replacement act, Albany's Scotty Mac and the Gold Tops, bopped solid with soundman Scott Sterling jumping in at one point to resurrect Lou Reed and The Modern Lovers. Apparently the volume cap has been suspended as I can still hear Sterling's Black Beauty whistling in my ears.

Man, Dr. Lonnie Smith is one cool cat. His B-3 pumped and swirled smoothly before two enthusiastic crowds at Venu Thursday night. I made it for the second set. The joint was positively sardined as Smith and guitarist Mel Henderson and drummer Yuron Israel laid it down. Smith even sang a tribute of sorts to Johnny Mathis, holding the final note for easily a minute and a half. At one point, his fingers left the keyboard but continued to play as he held them up --- as if summoning something out of the audience.

Reminiscing about his Buffalo rock ‘n' roll days (as he described a greasy pre-turban coif that sounded a lot like mine), he was interrupted by a cat in the crowd who had apparently sung with him in The Teen Kings. Big hugs were shared on stage. A first-rate gig.

Got to share the bill with El Destructo's new band The White Rose on Saturday night. This band is a little less manic than Destructo's trio of yore. The casual cool and layering of a slightly fuller band will perhaps bring more people to this man's music, his hurt, and his happiness.

Spent the eveing with Dick the Dancing Record and wife over chicken and gingerbread with a jug band pumping in the background. A one-time band of guitar, tamborine, and harmonica emerged over coffee as we pontificated real estate and revisiting classics like Townes Van Zandt. Musical moments in time like this send me. Woulda sent you too...and I'd have saved you a drum stick.