Second Degree Reiki Practitioner, Gail Worley

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If I were to write my autobiography (I've already had the title, Confessions of an Ugly Creep, picked out since I was 18), I could envision my life story taking shape along the lines of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas meets The Celestine Prophecy. Which reminds me of this business plan I'm currently brainstorming to liberate me from the Golden Handcuffs of corporate wage-slave bondage forever. As I blueprint or fashion this strategy in my mind, I see the name in bold marquee lighting: "Rock & Roll Reiki Master 2000"!

With the intent being to continue my literary freelance escapades while marrying my voracious appetite for rock music -- and the accompanying lifestyle -- to the seemingly contradictory spiritual path I do my best not to wander far from, the realization of Rock and Roll Reiki Master 2000 will see yours-truly marketing my services as an advanced practitioner of the healing art of Reiki in the forum of actually going on the road with touring, high profile rock bands. What could be more exciting? I can't imagine.

Let's face the music and dance: 90% of Rock stars are either teenagers who never grew up or Prima Donnas who smoke, drink, take drugs, stay up all night and don't eat their vegetables (at least the one's I like seem to be cut from that bolt of cloth). After a typical night's binge of unbridled debauchery, what hedonistic group of musicians wouldn't absolutely love having their very own touring Reiki practitioner at their beckoned call? Rock stars like to be pampered and their handlers need them to be alive, alert and in coherent shape for the show. Reiki is perfect in this situation because it not only relaxes and promotes healing in the body but also calms the mind and spirit, works on relieving the symptoms of a hangover and, well, it feels like an energy orgasm. Right on! Rock and Reiki go together like McDonalds and red meat. I really think I've got a winner with this idea.

For information on how you can contribute to the furtherance of the Rock & Roll Reiki Master 2000 agenda by either helping me write my business plan, funding my Master level training this summer or -- say, if you are Trent Reznor or a member of Metallica -- getting me a gig with your band, email pandomag@rocketmail.com. Rock & Roll Reiki Master 2000 : Because Gail Hates Her Day Job!

Undead Undead Undead

One of the coolest gifts I got for my birthday (besides the two-headed dragon incense burner and the purple velvet bra that I simply cannot stop looking at myself in) is a book called The Vampire Gallery: A Who's Who of the Undead by J. Gordon Melton (Visible Ink Press, $19.95). I was so excited to receive this book, I couldn't stop shrieking and bouncing on the bed for a few hours after opening the package. The only thing I love more than vampires is...well...I just don't know. While I'd never do anything as cheesy as wearing fake fangs or changing my name to Morticia Nightshade or something, this Big Book of the Undead is yanking my chain big time. I love the undead! Woo hoo!

The Vampire Gallery is, in fact, the consummate reference manual of Blood Drinkers, Hellraisers and things that go bump in the night. Written by the same genius who gave us The Vampire Book: Encyclopedia of the Undead, a comprehensive detailing of vampire facts such as terms, places of import, organizations and other topical Vampire related wisdom, The Vampire Gallery is just crammed with spellbinding biographies of Vampires, all of them -- from the obscure to the legendary -- it's amazing! Barnabus Collins, resident fanged-one of the gothic soap opera, Dark Shadows: He's in here. Miriam Blaylock, goddess of the undead featured in the greatest Vampire movie ever made, The Hunger: In here. Martin, geeky teenage Nosferatu of George Romero's film of the same name: see page 275-277. Even the most played-out vampires (Lestat and Louis from Ann Rice's ridiculously over-hyped novels) get their glory day on the pages of Melton's exciting and ultimately thoroughgoing Bible of neck biters. Melton even explores the hypothesis that Batman, one of the most famous comic book characters of all time, is based on vampire legend. If you're somebody who never gets tired of reading about Dracula and his minions, I'll tell you right now, this book is to die for.

CD Review of the Month: Gail Discovers a Swing band that does not Suck!

Jet Set Six, Livin' It Up (Mutiny)

Swing music is lame city. There are no shades of grey when it comes to my reaction to anything that sounds like swing. Either a swing band is possessed of just the worst, most uncouth name imaginable (Cherry Poppin' Daddies; I can hardly write it let alone say it) or their music is hopelessly derivative, cheesy and awful. But Jet Set Six are different, in that they are rock band who plays swing (cringe) music that does not suck. I realize this is hard to believe, but you are going to have to take my word for it. I would not steer you, my faithful reader, in the wrong direction when it comes to a matter as close to the heart as what music to listen to and what to throw against the wall, sell for a buck on St. Mark's Place or use as a beer coaster.

Jet Set Six sound like They Might Be Giants shaking hands and getting all friendly with Herb Alpert, which is to say that their music is cool, clever, energetic and fun. Your hipster quotient will rise proportionately to the number of times you let this disc spin around in your CD player while you twist and groove to tunes of a carefree lifestyle like "Perpetual Bachelor" and "The Dame Who Knotted My Rope." It does not matter if you are not a guy; ladies will be won over by these tunes as well. What positions the Jet Set Six apart from their decidedly inferior peers is, quite simply, the fact that they have both class and songs that rock so hard they could crack a skull. Most of the same ingredients are present that you'll find in other bands of the swing ilk -- double stand-up bass, golden-throated lead singer, not one but two wailing saxophones, Buddy Holly style guitar -- but the Jet Set Six throw it all together in the pan and cook up a whole new dish. Originality - what a concept! "My Love" scores as one of the best dance songs since "I Saw Her Standing There" and just try to keep your feet still and your mouth from singing along to "Hotline." The lyrics are darn catchy and easy to remember: "7-0-6-0-6-5-5/ In area code 7-1-8." (Call it, leave a message and tell them I sent you). Swing still blows, but Jet Set Six are too cool for the room.

New York City's Best Unsigned Band: Revealed

"You do not know me," the email began cryptically, "but I have been reading your column for awhile. I run into your interviews online a lot..." Was this just one more cyber stalker looking for some hot virtual sex chat? No such luck, but it wasn't the typical fan mail from some flounder, either. This mild-mannered email would pave the road to enlightened discovery of the best-unsigned rock band in New York or maybe in the entire tri-state area, or world for that matter. The message of love came from Evan Silverman, who plays bass for the NYC power pop band, The Rosenbergs. Evan was a fan who obviously knew my work, and obviously knew how to "work it," if you know what I mean. I wasn't surprised when he asked if he could send me his band's CD. ("Flatter the girl writer and she'll listen to your band's CD"). I didn't promise to like it, but I agreed to give it a fair shake. "If it doesn't suck the paint off my walls, I'll see what I can do with it," I told Evan.

It brings me to a state of elated bliss to bear the news that The Rosenbergs kick tight-pants-mod-boy ass with their seriously sweet and crunchy tunes that blur the boundaries between Sloan, The Posies and my favorite (now sadly defunct) emotionally purgative potential wrist slitters, Toad the Wet Sprocket. The Rosenbergs' have a self-titled EP thing out now featuring a pop song of epic proportions-- and we're talking "All The Young Dudes" and "Shake Some Action" quality tunesmithing here -- unfolding as a euphoric concoction of chiming guitar, soaring faux-Brit vocals by drop-dead-hot-potato lead singer, David Fagin and lyrics about the intangible essence of loss called "Will You Drive Me?" What a great song! If Oasis or Blur recorded this song it would sell a gazillion copies. I could listen to "Will You Drive Me?" all day and not get sick of it.

The coolest thing about the Rosenbergs is how a steadfast confidence in their wildly flammable talent allows them to get their songs played on genuine prime time television super-shows like Dawson's Creek and Party Of Five. And this band is unsigned? It makes no sense. Other songs I like more than candy and cute boys are "Leech," which is really upbeat, and the deliriously swoon-worthy, "Time Warp." Which is reminiscent of the Dickies circa 1979.

The Rosenbergs' have endeared themselves to me in many ways besides their music. I'd like to credit drummer, Travis Huff, who is just the cutest thing in the East Village, even if he is cursed with the near-likeness of my moronic ex-boyfriend, with teaching me a fun new saying, "Shut UP," which can substituted for "No Way" or even "No Fucking Way" depending on how emphatic a point you need to make. To learn more about how The Rosenbergs plan to take over and make the Harvey Danger's and Sugar Ray's of the world lick their boots, surf on over to www.therosenbergs.com or download their music from www.mp3.com. Watch for a tour coming this summer with my other two favorite unsigned bands, The Peegs and the Sweat Knickers.

Rock Star Quote of The Month

"In New York, you see some fuckin' guy shooting dope outside of a transvestite club and it's lunch hour on a Monday! And you're like "So What?" New York and L.A. aren't like the rest of the world; they're on their own little time warp."

-- Nikki Sixx, bassist for Motley Crue, to David Lee Beowulf.

The Worley Gig: Mastering Obscure Alternatives

This column regularly appears in both the NY Hangover and Pandemonium Online.

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