The Courant last weekend somehow forgot to print two different pop-music reviews. The first, Thomas Kintner's review of Jamie Foxx and Fantasia Friday at Mohegan Sun, ended up running Monday, a day late. The second, my review of Jesus H. Christ and the Four Hornsmen of the Apocalypse Friday at the Webster Underground, has languished in the computer system since about 9 a.m. Saturday morning.
Mistakes happen, etc., and I've certainly made my share. But for the powers that be at The Courant, who seem truly confused about why young people aren't picking up the paper, here's a radical thought: Let's make sure we remember to include stuff they might actually want to read, especially if there's a local angle, such as the singer of a band having grown up in Connecticut.
It's too late now to run the JHC review, five days after the fact, so I'm posting it below.
By ERIC R. DANTON
Courant Rock Critic
Connecticut's a lovely place to work, live, raise kids, whatever. If you are a kid being raised here, though, the Nutmeg state can be a downer — there's nothing much for kids, especially teens, to do.
Well, there is one thing: sex.
It's the chief conceit of a bawdy song by Jesus H. Christ and the Four Hornsmen of the Apocalypse, a New York band whose singer grew up in Connecticut and attended Pomperaug High School in Southbury. The title is unprintable, but it's along the lines of the slogan "Virginia is for Lovers," only with a seven-letter vulgarity instead.
The tune was the, er, climax of the band's performance Friday at the Webster Underground, coming toward the end of a set that also featured tongue-in-cheek songs about seducing the bereaved, anti-depressants and running Google searches for one's own name online.
"It is SO exciting to be in Connecticut," singer Risa Mickenberg proclaimed with just a touch of good-natured sarcasm Friday night at the Webster Underground. "Oh my God. How do you stand it day after day?"
The group is true to its name, with a four-piece horn section augmenting guitar, bass and drums. JHC is no ska band, though. The horns added brassy accents to a dirty surf-rock instrumental to start the show, and played bright poppy charts on a new song with bleak lyrics about a soul-crushing job.
Mickenberg is an arch vocalist, and she sang in a high, girly voice that only enhanced the so-wrong-it's-funny air of "Do Me," a song about feeling attracted to someone whose spouse just died. Mickenberg ranted her way through "Vampire Girls," a haughty poke at vapid social-climbers who are conversant on what's cool only because of their ex-boyfriends.
Technology has enabled a few of JHC's songs, including two new ones in the set Friday. "To Julie on the Fung Wah Bus to Boston" came from reading the "missed connections" section on craigslist.com, Mickenberg said, and "Vanity Surfing" is about entering one's name into Google to see what pops up.
Finally, the band got to the Connecticut song, and Mickenberg sang in a lower vocal register about classic rock, antiquing, local attractions and the various other things that make the state suitable for teenage acts of carnality to relieve the boredom.