Earlier this year, I hosted a fondue party at my house in Brooklyn. Guests of honor: The Milkman’s Union. They showed up rockstar-style, with large appetites and no wine. And one of them even stole my cologne. So, it’s a testament to how FABULOUS their music is that the whole incident is wrapped up in my memories with a big pleasurable bow and filed under “great nights.” The boys dragged themselves through the cheese; and then retired to the fabulous Capri Social Club across the street:
They treated us like Gods. And I know it was not my charms that greased the taps.
I am not alone in my enthusiasm for this band. They have been steadily gathering acolytes over the past couple of years here in Maine, and are on the cusp of a debutante’s welcome in the wider worlds of the East Coast, with the upcoming release of their new LP. Their bloom even reached New England’s The Deli music magazine, where they won the coveted “Best of New England” fan poll.
…And now, it’s time for a confession: I feel that I owe this band my musical life. When the Milkman’s Union played here in Denmark last year, they were our first foray into that “electric” musical sound the kids are so excited about. And it should be no surprise that they brought the house down. if you were there, you know whereof I speak. They awoke in me a love for music that had lain dormant for a decade, reminding me that all that is great in life can be communicated by a guitar, drums, and bass under (exceptional) lyrics.
Now, they headline the DamJam. Kismet? Hardly! When something this good comes along, the better part of discretion tells that you should hold it like magic.
So here you go: a couple of talismans, for your listening pleasure.