Curtis meets Cowboy Mark
Curtis makes his way out of the house to Cowboy's abode.  Curtis wonders if he's got the right directions, but then he sees something that confirms, without a doubt, that he has found the urban dwelling of the Cowboy.

Hmm.  Must be the right place.  (Curtis rings the bell)

Cowboy: Curtis!  How the heck are you?

Curtis: Hey Cow!  Yow, nice pad.

Cowboy: Man, it's great to see you!  What's going down?  I've heard rumours about a Curtis Suburban record release party.  Are they true?  I'm just dying to go!  I can't wait!  But, enough of all this chatter.  Sit down.  Can I offer you a drink?  Maybe I can offer you an entire bottle of Pernod?

Curtis: Wow!  Thanks, Cow!  You're the best!

Cowboy:  Well, actually, it's my only bottle, and it's empty.  I'm sorry.  You know, it's this darn dog.  Drinks like a sieve.  Some people think they're dumb brutes, but I gotta tell you that this darn pup is the craftiest pooch I have ever known.  Here it is, the middle of the day and that pooch is pickled.  Just take a look at him:

Pooch: UUUUUUURRRRRPPPPP!   (slobber)  Ahhhhh.  PPPHHHHfffrrrrpppt! (slobber)

Cowboy:  I mean, watch this.  I'm holding a fresh, rare steak in my hand and there's absolutely no action.  C'mon boy!  Jump!  Jump for the love of all that is wholesome!  Look!  No action!  No action whatsoever.  I mean COMPLETELY numb.  Blotto.  Can't even keep it's tongue in it's mouth.  Poor thing.  Well, at least the alcohol keeps his breath fresh.

Cowboy:  I mean, what's a guy to do?  My dog is stinking drunk.  There's no denying it.  Goddamn slob of a beast.  Man's best friend?  I mean, uh - hmm, slobs.  That reminds me.  At least I've got one thing to depend on in this world.  There's one group of friends that would never let me down - well, at least they haven't snuck into my pad and drunk all my hooch without telling me like this hammered Pooch here (gesturing to the foul beast).  Why, yes - and I think you know who that group of reliable friends is - why, it's SOUR JAZZ!

(See inset photo in inset photo)

Cowboy:  And, yessir. Here it is.  The real deal.  Curtis, I offer you "ROCK'N'ROLL LIGGER"!!.  It's raw.  It's subtle.  It's compleat.  It's produced by Daniel Rey.  It's SOUR JAZZ.  It's profiled at  It's my rock in a hard place.  Have you ever known it's solace?  My only hope is that, in the future, you will find it as comforting as I have in trying times.

Curtis:  Sour Jazz, eh?  Hmm.  Solace in trying times?  And I thought it was just great rock.

Cowboy:  Great rock, yes.  But it's also much, much more.  Let me show you (gestures to the window)...

Cowboy:  You know, it was out there.  We recorded it out there.  Can you see Daniel from here?  I know he's very small from this perspective, but the sound he gave us was BIG, BIG, BIG! HEY! (yelling out the window) HEY! DANIEL!! UP HERE!!  What am I doing?  He can't hear me from here.

Cowboy:  Anyway, you get the idea.  But, what's all this I hear about Curtis Suburban?  Rumours are flying wildly on the street.  Some talk of a record release party or something.  Sounded like it was for two records, but I'm not sure.  I was hoping that you could set the record straight.

Curtis: Well, Cow!  That's what I'm here to tell you about!  There WILL be a Curtis Suburban record release party!  And soon!  Saturday, July 16, 2005!  3-7pm at the CONTINENTAL (3rd Ave and St.Marks Place)!!!  And yes, there are two, count 'em, two records!  There will be cd giveaways, weird prizes and wild support acts like "Venice Beach Muscle Club" and the "Teenage Prayers"!!  Can you believe it?

Cowboy:  Wow!  Two cds you say!  Will wonders never cease?  Where, praytell, are my copies of these gems?

Curtis:  Cow, I've got 'em right here for you, chief.  Your very own copies of "Breakfast with Curtis" and "Perfect In My Mind"!  Just keep them away from that loopy pooch - he's liable to try and pawn them.

Cowboy: Holy ships!  That's great.  Hey, while I've got you here, how do you feel about autographing my copy of the Pillbox 10 inch?

Curtis: Uh, sure, Cow.  Anything for you.  Are you sure you want me to write on this thing?  Yeah?  O.K. then.  Let's see.  To Cowboy and his rocked out hooch pooch - rock on and all that jazz - much love - signed, Screamin'.

Pooch:  HHHHHUUUUUurrrrraaaggggg!! (slobber)

Cowboy:  Take care, Curtis!

Curtis:  You too, Cowboy.  And thanks for the bottle!

Cowboy:  Just make sure the pooch is back by midnight.

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