Still reeling from that mainline hot dose I got from The Foo Fighters last week, I decided to do a 180 and check out DJ group the Bachelors Of Science at Tilt Friday night. There's a beat, it's loud, there'll be chicks there, what the hell? What struck me right off was the dancing. Yes, there was a dance floor, but people there seemed more prone to brief bursts - episodes, if you will - of dancing mid-stroll, mid-conversation, mid-sip on a cocktail. With its hunch, arm swing, and foot work, the typical move had the look of a bowler doing the Charleston.

As is the norm, the bass and subsequent subsonics shook the walls. It was loud and layered, yet Chris Doe, the lone Bachelor in the booth, seemed genuinely inspired as he tweaked, goosed, sprinkled, and wove the layers on the spot. It was fun and made sense, as opposed to the preceding two dudes in long shorts (or short pants) pacing the floor and yelling incoherently into their mics. They didn't seem to connect with the audience, and overall seemed directionless, like a football game where only one team shows up.

Buffalo's The Found is yet another heavy blues/rock bullet in the cylinder, but you won't hear me complain. The band, along with Raunchy Sex - a Heartbreakers knockoff, albeit a good Heartbreakers knockoff - opened for St. Phillip's Escalator Saturday night at The Bug Jar. With drummer Zachary Koch on some downtime as The Chesterfield Kings' utility man, the band is putting together a new record, and road tested a bunch of the tunes for a rowdy crowd. The trio played big, bad, loud, and proud.

And again, I implore Rochester bands: drop the goddamn covers. This year's Park Ave Fest was full of local talent, yet it seemed virtually every band I walked by was doing some lame cover. Now this would be all right, I suppose, if all the booths set up were selling crap from Target or Wal-Mart. But they weren't. It was original arts and crafts (and sure, some of it was kitschy, but it was still original). We should hold our music to the same standard.

You ever get the feeling that your musical kicks have peaked? That that's all there is, and there ain't no more? That all the great shows in your life already happened, and going to a show today is like visiting the land of diminishing returns? My rock 'n' roll life has been pretty full-on, and I could die a happy man tomorrow. I mean, I don't want to just yet -- mainly because I'm figuring out a way to take some of you with me when I go -- but I've seen a lot.

James Brown almost brained me with his mic stand before pulling me off the ground and shaking my hand. King Solomon Burke sang an impromptu love song to my wife over the phone. I was on the side of the stage when Metallica did their pyrotechnic prelude to "One" at Lolapalooza. I saw the Ramones roughly 15 times. John Lee Hooker carved his name into my guitar -- twice. Iggy Pop sat on my head. Chris Spedding pissed on my shoes. I saw Johnny Thunders in a little club. I witnessed the second ever New York Dolls reunion show. I had breakfast with DJ Fontana. I made Ike Turner laugh. I've hung out with Bo Diddley. I've kissed Etta James and Ruth Bown. I've played with Ronnie Dawson and Link Wray. And I've been playing and seeing  and listening and loving and  living rock 'n' roll since the time I had to sneak into joints like Snake Sisters Café, Shatzee's, Jazzberry's, and The Red Creek. Some pretty cool shit.

So when I tell you John Fogerty's show last night at CMAC was one of the best rock 'n' roll shows I've ever seen, you better believe me.

Sixty-two years old and playing the guitar as if his head was on fire and his ass was catching, Fogerty blazed through a pile of hits with reverential accuracy and renewed energy. Though cordial and obviously thrilled to be on stage, he simply did not let up. It was relentless. Opening with a full throttle take on "Traveling Band," Fogerty was all over his guitar. There were two other slingers on stage, but Fogerty could have honestly pulled it off himself. He covered Brother Ray's "The Night Time (Is The Right Time)" that had me swayin' and howlin' and squealin' like a girl.

He pulled off some fresh ones, too, including a nice little two-step number called "Don't You Wish It Were True." "Fortunate Son" resonated with contemporary anger, and while singing along to "Who Will Stop The Rain?" my eyes welled up. I dunno, it just sounded and felt so good. Fogerty flat-out blew me away.

So I guess it's safe to say that there're still a few kicks to be had before I go. And take some of you with me.

With a pompadour'd, trap-set luchadore, a long, tall, cool drink of thunder on the bass, and a pumpin' piano cat who practically 86'd the 88s, Steve Grills frosted The Dinosaur BBQ blue last Thursday night. Grills is perfection on the guitar, and he plays with equal parts reverence, accuracy, and guts. He's been a constant on this scene since the Dead Sea was just sick, and I've written about him here and there. But I gotta say, I took him for granted until Thursday night.

It was a late, loose evening with a modest crowd drinking (some a little too much) and eating (some a little too much), crowding the fringes of the dance floor, and digging Grills as he grilled the blues. Pops had a barley pop and I nursed some Joe while it all transpired before us eight bars at a time.

Yes, Grills is a flawless player with sharp licks and beautiful tone, but it's the way he adopts the mood of each song and the demeanor of its character and/or author - right down to the buxom blonde Telecaster he has rigged like the Iceman's - that knocks me out. Grills sticks to the Kings and the Reds and the Slims and the Hookers for the most part, so as to get maximum purchase on the finer points. But last week's show had a raw, almost juke joint element to it.

The band boogied for the crowd in my head as they danced cheek to sweaty cheek grinding into one another. Yes, I said "crowd in my head." Why have a few random voices when you can have a whole audience? They applaud me to sleep every night.

The real crowd was a bit more reserved, except for a few patrons who discovered their dancing shoes right around (I'm guessing) cocktail four or five. Grills is a master of ceremonies and handles everything, including drunks, pedal malfunctions, the smell of BBQ through vegan nostrils, and the occasional shout for SRV, the blues equivalent to shouting "Free Bird" anywhere else.

I've always said it's not the musicians that make a good music town. It ain't the fans, either. And what I mean is, every town has its share of talent and those who lap it up, but without the media to bring the two together it's like ships passing in the night. The label "local" continues to be a back-handed compliment, as if acceptance from anywhere but where you're from is the only measure of success.

I don't just root for the home team out of pride. There are actually a lot of bands in Rochester that stink. I dig it, promote it, and share it when it's good. And so does  WXXI's "On Stage," now in its second season.

In the spirit of "Austin City Limits," this locally produced TV show features concerts by local bands (and some select gems from this year's Jazz Fest). It is awesome, top-flight entertainment with top-flight production. I had the distinct pleasure of doing one of the episodes in season one and have to say it's one of the coolest things I've ever been apart of.

They're all done recording season two, and it begins airing every Sunday at 8 p.m. starting September 7 with The Buddhahood. You can also catch an audio-only version on WRUR FM at 6 p.m. the Thursday before each band's scheduled TV broadcast.

WXXI-TV schedule

9/7/08  Buddhahood

9/14/08  Joe Beard and The John Cole Blues Band

9/21/08  Colorblind James Celebration

9/28/08  Hinkley

10/5/08  40 Rod Lightning

10/12/08  Gaylord

10/19/08  Uncle Plum

10/26/08  Atomic Swindlers

11/2/08  Giant Panda Guerilla Dub Squad

11/9/08  Mike Doughty

11/16/08  Catherine Russell*

11/23/08  Rick Holland / Evan Dobbins Little Big Band

11/30/08  Kate Lee with No Strings Attached

12/07/08  The White Hots

12/14/08  Slide Hampton*

12/21/08  Phil Marshall Trio

12/28/08  The Isotopes

1/4/09  This Other Life

1/11/09  Margaret Explosion

1/18/09  The Bad Plus*

1/25/09  Brian Lindsay

2/1/09  Maria Gillard

2/8/09  The Demos

*Taped at the Rochester International Jazz Festival.

Frank's off on a cabin getaway, so I get to fill his shoes (it's hard; I'm used to heels) and tell you about some music I caught this past week.

Juanita and the Rabbit's "punky love rock" was sandwiched between sets by Buffalo DJs and Rochester's DJ A-KO last Tuesday night at the Bug Jar. The San Francisco husband-and-wife duo (married for eight years, but a band for just eight months) played a set of standout songs, including terrific covers of Barrett Strong's "Money (That's What I Want)," Bill Wither's "Ain't No Sunshine," and the band's own hilarious "So Hip" ("So hip / I think I'll be sick / and it sure doesn't help / that you smell like shit"). Brett Cline (six-string bass, vocals) tossed the lyrics out in such a way that made the song at once catchy and biting.

Elizabeth Cline (drums, vocals) sang from behind her kit while playing some mean beats, and added to the fun, light-hearted feel of the show. The "love rock" thing sounds like a joke, but it's actually true: at the bar, Brett said he'd played in bands since he was 12, with various drummers, and found Elizabeth to be better than all of ‘em. Besides, I figure it'd be pretty impossible not to love the little girl grin she bestowed on Brett (and the crowd, when we were lucky) while she played. It was instantly endearing.

Tommy Brunett and Pancake (his guitar) were equally endearing on Thursday night at Abilene. There's something about naming an instrument that infuses it with even more life, and Pancake had plenty of it. Brunett slung her on real low, and got a huge sound out of her. The two were there to please the crowd, and Brunett asked questions ("Where does the witch live? If you can answer it right, I'll give you a free CD.") and took requests. He played with his back to the small garden in Abilene's backyard, so that when the parking lot lights went off, it looked like he was coming at us out of a haunted forest.

A cover of "Chim Chim Cheree" from "Mary Poppins" was an unexpectedly wise choice; Brunett really got inside the song, and the result was spooky and Waits-like. He also kicked out covers by Billy Joe Shaver, Johnny Cash, and the Rolling Stones (with added vocals by Too Tall Paul, and the lovely Velvet Edge girls, who played fiddle and sang).

My favorite song of the evening was inspired by words of wisdom passed down from Brunett's dad and grandpa: "Some of the best times in my life I can't remember / Livin' hard and drinkin' the same way / I think of all the wasted days and start to tremble / and son you're better off not to do the same." This rang real close to home. Think what you will, but while everyone else was laughing, I reached for a drink and fought back tears.