A lot of the bands that play the Auditorium Theatre use too much amplification and wind up sounding terrible. We all understand rock music's need for volume...and so did Canadian rock giants The Tragically Hip, which despite its volume sounded fantastic. Singer Gordon Downie has an incredible bright and dynamic rock voice. The band's fanbase is fanatic (kinda like hockey fans, only drunker) and the band satisfied with broad selections from its catalogue, including stuff from its fantastic 2000 release "Work." The band came back and wrung out what little the sold-out crowd had left with an encore that bordered on another set.

Me and the birthday girl spent last Saturday night at the Little Theatre Cafe. And man alive, this place has gone far and beyond the afterthought it once was. And I'll tell you why: it's jazz cats like The Steve Green Trio.

First of all, the trio has four members. That alone is tres cool. Greene comps and chops and trills and twangs as the band stirs the batter. Slithering seductively on top is Tina Albright, a statuesque blonde with a smoky contralto. This isn't a blues group, nor is Albright singing the blues, but the way she works the mic, stretching and playing with the lyrics (almost as casually as Greene) it draws upon some of the blues' simultaneous joy and despair.

The joint was jammed as folks hovered in a holding pattern waiting to swoop as soon as a seat opened up. The cappuccino machine hissed, cutlery clinked, people slurped, and a four-piece trio casually played some of the sweetest acoustified jazz you'll hear anywhere. There are moments like this all over town. I was lucky to stumble upon this one. I hope it happens again...soon.

Alright, you palookas...this week we're gonna jaw about bands as adjectives, youthful exuberance vs wisdom, volume as foreplay, and the contact buzz. It all came to light with Blue Cheer's Thursday night performance and The Bug Jar. That's right, baby; the psychedelic sonic three-piece once heralded as the loudest band on earth shoe-horned onto a tiny stage. The place was packed with everything from young punks to rock 'n' roll crusties.

When describing heavy blues-based, drug-inspired bands, Blue Cheer gets thrown around a lot. "Dude, these cats sound like Blue Cheer," or "Was that a Blue Cheer riff or what?" So what do say about Blue Cheer? Well first you stand right in front and brace yourself...

The sound was testicle-rattling and monstrous. The band played with a heavy, picturesque groove that trumped speed. It was like those movies where the chick runs as fast as she can, but somehow the zombie - staggering slowly - still manages to catch up.

Though the band kicked off in 1966, this is a sound and spirit with no beginning and no end. It is essentially the blues howled from the mountain. The fact that some members of the trio are in their 60s doesn't mean shit. This is the same band it has always been, and each member played amazingly.

Blue Cheer was initially met with resistance with the whole San Francisco counter culture. How cool is that? The outsiders didn't want 'em, either. So as the old hippies wind down to their golden years of box sets and Ameritrade commercials, these three dudes plug in and roar. Forty years and they've got it down better than a lot of the kids that crank it up to 15. And they sound very Blue Cheer.

Is he still The Boss? In any event, Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band will play Blue Cross Arena Thursday, March 6, at 7:30 p.m. Tickets cost $66.50-$96.50, and go on sale Saturday, November 17. For more information call 232-1900 or visit ticketmaster.com.

It recently dawned on me that over the years this column hasn't been so much about what I've seen but how I've seen it. And in trying to put music into words, by clawing madly at the air the notes inhabit, I am nowhere closer to figuring any of this out. And you, gentle readers, look to me for guidance? Opinions? Recommendations? We're all screwed.

If you must corral my faith, it's safe to say I'm in the just-in-case-we're-wrong-and-there-is-a-god slot occupied by agnostics. Spiritual, yes, but I don't buy into voices in the sky.

So there I was at The Buddhahood's wonderful tribute show to its lost leader, Tony Cavagnaro, at Water Street Music Hall this past Sunday. It was truly a celebration despite the bitter reality of his absence. Band after band, musician after musician, played with reverence and pride for close to 1000 fans. Everyone had a Tony tale to tell. It was when one friend quoted Kurt Vonnegut that I stopped in my tracks. "Let this be my epitaph," he wrote. "The only proof he needed for the existence of God was music."

So I softened my focus a little to dig the overall vibe. Yeah, there were groovy details to zero in on like 40 Rod Lightning's excellent take on the ‘Hood's "On My Way Home." There was the return of Rochester's prodigal son, Rob Cullivan, huffin' and puffin' on his harp when he wasn't huffin' and puffin' on a Pal Mal. There was the big easy boogie of Red Line Zydeco, The Druids' heavy jams, Peachy Nietzsches in full quirk, The Mysterious Blues Band shredding on "Amazing Grace," Hypnotic Clambake (who play what could be called polkska), to name a few. And of course The Buddhahood, who were still beating the drum and the crowd into a frenzy as I left.

It was a fitting tribute to a talented musician and beautiful person who's sprit was all over the joint. The music was varied and profound. I won't attempt to secularize it with words other than to say I dug the vibe big time. I didn't see God, but I felt something... real good.

Monday night and it was déjà vu all over again. During my tenure on the rock 'n' roll road to fame and oblivion, there were plenty of Monday nights in towns without pity - or much love - for a band on the road. It was nights like this when equipment seemed heavier, groupies homelier, and time dragged painfully slow as you nursed a cold slice of pizza waiting for the opening band to finish. Ah yes, showbiz. I felt it all for Leo, a slick four-piece rock band from St. Louis that found itself plying its trade in Rochester on a Monday night at The California Brew Haus.

The Kronics worked through a classics cover set that was heavy on the FM. I see bands like this and wonder two things: 1) Where the hell did Pat Travers go? And 2) Just when exactly did The Eagles become "America's greatest band"? OK, maybe the band's new album is the only thing sold at Wal-Mart that's not made in China, but America's greatest band? Please.

Anyhow, Leo took the stage to the whoops and squeals of a small yet enthusiastic crowd. The band plays what is still referred to as modern rock, even though the genre is definitely in its teens by now. Lots of heavy guitar full of octave chords and a push-pull dynamic borrowed from grunge.

Leo is certainly committed - matching haircuts if nothing else will attest to that - and seems to have a tight focus on what it will eventually sound like. The band has room to grow melodically, however, as the lyrics seemed to be chasing the tune rather than riding it. Notwithstanding, this is a powerful and tight band full of punchy power pop. And all those Mondays the band plays as if they were Saturdays oughta pay off soon.