Sunday, June 04, 2006

Tummies that should not be bared....

After a couple days of just golf, eating and drinking at the Cape, the boys felt a need to get out and listen to some live music. The Rickster, our gracious host, took us over to the Irish Pub in Harwich to see the Slackers, but we found the Generators playing to a sparse, early Friday bar crowd instead. Their banner read "...rock, pop, blues and a drop of reggae." The Generators are mostly a cover band, although their website has several CDs for sale - Van's Domino, Paul Simon's Me and Julio Down By the Schoolyard, Aretha's Chain of Fools, a strange Elton John The Bitch Is Back, a bad rendition of Labelle's Lady Marmalade, Wings' Band On the Run. A very tasty mix.

The band is fronted by Carolina Restaino (left), who sings with lots of bravado, lots of uncovered tummy, but little texture. We were impressed with hubby Steve, the apparent bandleader, on guitars/vocals and keyboard player Sam Simcoe. Rounding out the band are Steve Andreasson (drums/vocals, but no relation to Keith Andreasson) and the weathered-looking bassist, Paul Fazzina.

An Elaine Benes-type dancing display by one of the 40-something women at a nearby table kept all others away from the dance floor, while a very stupid young lad was observed doing a couple dozen jello shots to impress his friends and might be still recovering at press time. Despite Keith's queasiness about Carolina's oft-bared tummy, a good night out.


At right, three unidentified Irish Pub patrons are shown watching the Elaine Benes-dancing.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

not nice things to say about carolina huh? wich one of you fat bastards wrote this one? i'll bet your wives are all skinny little spring chickens...right...that's if a woman will have you. Most women should hope they look that good after 2 kids.

a fan

Anonymous said...

Exactly what is texture in the context of singing? If you can define it with - hopefully - more articularity than your smarmy commentary, then I will be less unimpressed. Tummies come in all shapes and sizes, Johnnyboy, and they are far enough from the vocal cords to make them musically irrelevant... like critics are!

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