As a courtesy to fans, band managers, radio personalities, members of the clergy, Mennonite farmers, door-to-door vacuum cleaner salespeople and others who were shocked and appalled to read of the sordid misadventures of New York, New York, popular music recording artist Matt Pond on the night of March 29, 2008, at the Record Bar, in Kansas City, Missouri, the editors of this blog have removed all details of the night, save the following photos and snippets of dialogue (sans attributions), taken by the post's original author, Crystal K. Wiebe, who, it should be noted, did at the time inform Pond and associates that she was a writer for The Pitch and would be filing a report of the evening, thereby obtaining their assent for her to proceed in good conscience.
However, because we at The Pitch fear for the youth of this country and recognize the power of after-hours-rock-and-roll reportage to occasionally and unintentionally drive wedges into the mighty trunk of this nation's moral character; and because we do not wish our writers, readers, or the drunken wannabe rockstars we write about to be haunted unto their dying day by one seemingly minor but in fact morally corrupt blog entry, we have amended this entry -- for a better tomorrow.
“Do you guys like Aerosmith?”
“Aerosmith did this all the time."
“Yeah, but they had drugs."
"Susie says I can’t come hang out with her unless you come.”
“You can just call me when you head out of here.”
“No, we’ll just come with you, if you’re OK with that.”
“Uh, sure."
“Can I drive your car? I’m a really good driver.”
“I don’t think I can ever listen to Emblems again!”
"I'm not from around here!"
“Where’s your friend? What’s her name again? I think I made her mad.”
“I think the party’s breaking up. Sorry. Should you maybe call your band mates and see where they are?”
Maybe if your name was Pamela Des Barres and you and your girlfriends were canoodling with 1971 era Jimmy Page instead of some skinny coke-hungry indie rocker, this would be a palatable story to share amongst friends over vodka cranberry at Chez Charlie. Maybe.
It's definitely not fodder for a "rock blog," nor is it something Matt Pond's publicist would likely be appreciative of.
Please stop making women who write about music sound like silly groupies.
Posted at: April 2, 2008 6:04 PM