A message from Steve Howe

Dear Fans,

Despite my best efforts otherwise, I have become ugly. Some of you may quibble with my choice of the word "become," but I hear no dissent on the adjective "ugly." For it is true, I repulse. Though no one will tell me directly, it is as clear as the face on my face. I feel I owe you an explanation.

Why has Lady Time left others ennobled and dignified in their accrued appearance while rendering me analogous to a moldering stump of lichen? Why have I been especially chosen as canvas for her full panoply of ravagements? It is not karma, for I have been as good, or bad, as many others. Neither is it hereditary, for I could easily afford to gaze upon my parents, even upon their deathbeds, though I may more closely resemble them in their current states.

Did it happen suddenly, I hear you ask, ominously attentive to your possible future as a craggily dissolute, loathesomely-visaged sexegenarian? (Who, I might add, is to this day still very popular in Japan, where they enjoy a thriving horror film industry as well as greater sympathy for the Hibakusha.) Or did it happen slowly, bruised and burnished like the icy, pock-marked surface of Ganymede? Perhaps it was the drugs, or lack of drugs, or the injurious ultrasonic vibrations of Jon Anderson's voice? Would death have not been preferable, my mirror asks me, daily?

I suppose by way of explanation, I have no explanation. In my defense, I do not force myself upon your eyes. You do not see Asia music videos on your television. I did not appear in "Rocky Horror Picture Show." All of my public appearances are witnessed voluntarily by paying fans. My website does not feature a photo section. You do not see me on the cover of People, Fangoria or The Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology. You will not see me on a package of Ipanema or Iams. It is not me on the Preparation-H instructions of use.

I would hope that my music would speak for me. I play a mean guitar. Close your eyes and that's what you need to know about me. The rest is gravy, or looks like it. If you poured it over kimchi, offal and barbershop dustpan. But enough about me.

regrets,
Steve "don't look now" Howe

New Products Review 2

Unlike most spiritual packages, this "one size fits most."

City in a garden 2

City in a garden 1

Chicago without XRT would be...

2:00 Arcade Fire "Keep The Car Running"
2:04 Talking Heads "Burning Down The House"
2:07 Melissa Etheridge "Imagine That"
2:10 Crosby, Stills & Nash "Suite: Judy Blue Eyes"
2:17 They Might Be Giants "Climbing The Walls"
2:26 Marvin Gaye "Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology)"
2:30 David Gray "Babylon (live)"
2:41 Mark Knopfler "Punish the Monkey"
2:45 Goo Goo Dolls "Name"
2:51 My Morning Jacket "Off The Record"
2:57 Tom Petty "Won't Back Down"
3:00 The Cure "Why Can't I Be You?"

...one step closer to the future.

Corner Store

I'm just popping down to the corner store. Need anything?
85th & Burley, Chicago IL

New Products Review

Inside this beaten bottle, under this nicked and rotting cap, is preserved the gloriously dodgy "Put it een Wine." The Jamaican woman told me she drinks one every day. The Jamaican men said it will help me "get my buck on."

Like me, you are probably interested in what is inside this glass of ill-repute. But not interested enough to open it and drink some. Here are the eengredients:

Find yours wherever ugly, frightening FDA-free Roots Drinks are sold with a wink.

Art.