Next month will be my last as editor of this section. I want to thank everybody who has read this section during my time, especially those who gave me feedback (positive or negative). I have finally landed a Widespread Panic Road Trip, as the "Atlanta crew" of Spread Heads will be heading to Hampton for Widespread's debut at the magical space ship. The esteemed Julian Eldridge will be providing us with a summary of the capers that are sure to ensue. I couldn't think of a better way to end my tenure as editor here. I would like to thank jambands.com for the opportunity, and I will continue to contribute to the site when I can.

It's easier than pickin' your nose. I just have to get on North Druid Hills Road, and turn onto the Stone Mountain Freeway, and the next thing I know I'm on state road 78 careening toward Athens. With the encore-heavy, brilliant Elvis Costello show at the Tabernacle from the night before still fresh in my mind, another evening of musical bliss lay further up the road. Even though I was leaving early, the Friday afternoon traffic was already causing North Druid Hills to back up. Traffic here ranges from annoying to downright ridiculous, I can't imagine what it must have been like during the Olympics!

It doesn't take long to get away from Atlanta and be reminded that I'm in the deep south. There seem to be more barbecue restaurants and places to get wings on this route than there are gas stations. There are also many quaint churches, which always lend warmth to a road trip. I have been warned about the police along this route, so I meticulously obey the speed limit every time I make this journey.

When the Pepsi plant comes into view, I know I am near, and I turn onto Lumpkin and find the street with the secret killer parking. Only when there is a UGA football game does the secret killer parking lot come close to being full! I love a nuggy parking spot, so I bound out of my car and head over toward "the bar scene" just down the road from the Georgia Theater where I knew kids would be hanging. Athens reminds me of Eugene, as scruffy intellectuals just hang out everywhere. Any place that has some tables out front runs the risk of being invaded by students or local estimated prophets (by the end of the night I realized that some just hung for hours.doing nothing.c'mon people, you're better than that!). I had promised Darren Cohen (overseer of the three low key virtuosos know as The Slip) that I would hand out a bunch of flyers for him. Not too many folks down here are aware of The Slip, and this was a good way to get the name out there. Most folks were friendly when I offered them the flyers. This is a stark contrast from when I used to flyer for bands up north. Many folks up there looked at me like I've asked them to massage my fat belly when I simply attempt to hand them a piece of paper (in the late eighties those pieces of paper may have advertised Phish at Molly's or The Paradise, so be nice people, and check music out, you never know what you'll find). There were a few folks with a little 'tude, but nothing too bothersome. Like when dancing, one must attempt to lose the ego while handing out flyers for a band. I always tell myself that I'm doing it to spread the news about good music, and if people are bothered by being handed a piece of paper, they can basically go sit on a cucumber for all I care.

I started realizing that I was seeing the same people over and over again, so I decided to get a slice of pizza and hope that a new batch of Athenians would be around when I finished. I found a place called Peppino's pizza down the road a little way, and I went in to order a slice. The guy behind the counter had a Pittsburgh Penguins hat on, and we proceeded to talk hockey for about 15 minutes or more. It is so refreshing for me that more and more people are getting into hockey down here. This is mostly due to the arrival of the Carolina Hurricanes, Nashville Predators, and Atlanta Thrashers, a trio of teams that should become fast rivals. This guy was telling me all kinds of stories about his beloved Penguins, and how his enthusiasm had turned alot of Athens folks onto hockey. I told him (among other things) that the Thrashers had a radio announcer who was from Pittsburgh. As a matter of fact, I'll tell you about him right now.

His name is Scott Ferrell, and he IS a freaking trip. I used to listen to his syndicated radio show, Ferrell On The Bench, which was a very fast-paced, intelligent program that featured Ferrell's unique approach as ringleader. He would never let people just call and brag about their team and what their gonna do, you know, rah-rah crap. He stuck to analysis, and when he was bored with that the conversation would often drift to beer drinking or hard rock (especially Metallica). His play-by-play of the Thrashers games are so amusing I've already recorded a couple of tapes of him to listen to during some of the many hours I will be driving while chasing Phylan. When there is a fight, this guy goes off with wild descriptions, peppered with cultural references to everything from classic literature to rap music. He is incredible, perhaps a modern-day Johnny Most (a legendary play-by-play man for the Boston Celtics from the 50s to the 80s) making the game an absolute delight to listen to. They even occasionally play Widespread Panic when there coming out of breaks for goodness sake!

I devoured the tasty, seasoned slice of pizza and resumed my flyer duties. I ran into a particularly festive group of people on an outdoor patio of a bar on a nearby street corner. These folks must have been bored with each other, as they immediately struck up a conversation with me about who The Slip were. They seemed genuinely interested (I'm pretty sure I saw a couple of them at The Theater later) as I was pulling adjectives out of my ass. "Their improvisations are stupefying!!" "They have enthralling compositions!" "They will lovingly tickle your eardrums!" As many of those reading this know, the best bands are the hardest to describe, and The Slip and Sector 9 are each almost impossible to describe. They had a huge pile of Peppermint Patties on a little wall by where they were sitting. I began to notice that they were accosting people as they walked by, attempting to get rid of this mint surplus that was hanging over them like a black cloud. This group had bought too much candy for the Halloween weekend, and they were trying to dump inventory. I wasn't sure at first, as it had been a while since I had indulged in such Pattiness. One of them noticed that I had just polished a slice, "where'd you get that?" he asked. "Peppino's," I said. An audible "ooooh" went across the exuberant group. "That'll stay with you all night," the same guy said. Another chimed in, "You'll have Peppino on your breath 'til Tuesday." I must have looked dismayed (it was only Friday), because one woman in the crowd said with a smirk, "some people like it, really like it!" I didn't really believe her, so I ate a mint...stashed about seven more and I was on my way. There were more people around now, so I buzzed through many more flyers.

I even wandered by the theater and the dude at the door was in a good mood, as he let me in even though doors weren't for a while. I was able to rap with some of the Sector 9 hard-core fans, and watch Sector 9 soundcheck for a while. This whetted my appetite, as did the soundcheck from The Slip that I caught later on.

One recipient of my flyer asked me several questions about the band. He turned out to be a jazz fan, and even though I told him that they were playing early he said there was no way he could go. He did say he would seek out their CD though, and seemed genuinely interested in the band. Before heading on his way, he asked me if I had eaten at Peppino's.

My horrible breath and I went into a little place called the Nowhere Bar. There is quite a mix of clientele here as undergrads rub elbows with the homeless. The place features what music freaks would call a "loaded" juke box, with many fine musical selections, among them almost every Panic CD. They also have some Mule, Dylan, The Band, and the artist I had taken in the night before, Elvis Costello. I slurped down a couple of dirt cheap Icehouses while enjoying stuff like Costello's "Poor Fractured Atlas," Panic's live "Barstools and Dreamers," "Thelonious Beck," from The Mule and The Band's version of "Tears Of Rage." I rapped with a bunch of the locals, and found out the doorman was a newbie to Government Mule. I promised him that I would bring some live tapes of them the next time I came to town, which will probably be for KVHW. After a couple more conversations about the coming Bulldogs game with Florida, and graduate programs in finance in Georgia, I crossed the street to the venerable Georgia Theater.

The Slip had yet to begin when I slid into the theater at about ten minutes past ten. I knew that they were slated to play from 10:30 to 11:30, but knowing them, I had a feeling they would start early in order to be able to play longer. I grabbed one of the enormo-beers that they offer here, and made my way toward the empty front. True to form, the band took the stage at 10:20. Now, I just moved down here from Boston where The Slip is wildly popular, and every performance is extremely well attended. So, when they took the stage and I was the only one on the lower dance floor area of the Theater, it was quite surreal. My private show was short lived, as shortly after they ethereally eased into their set, people started wandering toward the stage. After losing myself in their music for about fifteen or twenty minutes, I looked up and realized that I was surrounded by a bunch of people. This cheered me up, because I'm still feeling out the Sector 9 scene. The previous week when Sector 9 was co-headlining with The Disco Biscuits, many of their fans scurried for the exits before The Biscuits could close the show. It was nice to see tonight that the Sound Tribesmen could appreciate another band.

The fact that The Slip is predominantly an instrumental band may earn them some points with the Sector 9 following. Their absolutely jaw-dropping prowess on each of their instruments certainly must woo these fans as well. Tonight, the band started from a whisper, that gradually built to some very muscular jazz spaces. This trio took me on one of those sonic journeys that completely swept me away to the point where I forgot where I was. They listen to each other so well, and respond to each other with such swiftness, their potential as a band is limitless. One song has a bass line that their drummer Andrew told me he had learned on his recent trip to Africa. However, he had watched the bass line being played on a series of drums! It spawned some mesmerizing improvisations that completely blew me away. I hope these guys make it back down south soon, as the two shows I caught (I also saw them at the Somber Reptile in Atlanta) reminded me of how much I miss seeing them all the time in the Greater Boston area.

Even though they had a gig at a hockey rink in Rhode Island the next day (which featured many covers of eighties hits), the members of The Slip decided to stick around and check out Sector 9. I missed the beginning of their set, but when I slid back into the Theater they were in mid-jam. I find it challenging to try and figure out which parts of their set are improvised and which parts are composed. Sound Tribe Sector 9, about painting a lush musical picture. Band members rarely take what would be considered traditional solo spots. They are like a musical gumbo, reaching for just the right mix of disparate parts. Take a little 70s muscle, a little trance, a dash of funk with a liberal coating of jazz sensibility and blend with the benefit of amazing technical ability, and there you go! Their bass player often seemed to be leading the band through their changes. At one point there was a rich, lush feel that found me swaying gently in an absolutely lovely space. Then the drum and percussion duo started up a polyrhythmic thing that catapulted the band to some furious energy. The Athens people clearly were more familiar with these guys, as the dancing floor was packed. The beauty of this audience is that it's almost completely void of attitude. I was hanging up front most of the time, but when I had to relieve or refill, nobody had a problem letting me slip by. People actually stepped out of the way!!!! I am in the South!!

The second set really took me for a ride. There was some amazing interplay between the guitarist and the keys. Their keyboardist is very mild-mannered, but if you really pay attention to what he's doing, you'll see that he adds many textures to the band's sound. He offers so many amazing subtleties to the bands aural masterpiece. Quite frankly, I hadn't been feeling very well, and after walking around handing out flyers and then dancing to two sets of music, I had vowed to take it easy for this final set. Sector 9 sneaks up on one though. Midway through the set I was dancing furiously without even knowing it.at one point I was completely swept away when the guitarist started up a groove that all four of the other members jumped on with a vengeance- amazing, amazing stuff.next thing I knew I was caked with my own sloppy sweat, and I couldn't have been happier.

On the way out this woman approached me breathlessly panting.I was hoping she wasn't rabid, all she could say way "pah, pah,.pah." "Is something wrong, I said. I thought she was sick or hurt. Then she blurted out "Peppino" and tried to stick her tongue down my throat. Those guys should make a cologne.-