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Buy Sean Daly's Mazd(a) and get a free Kristinia DeBarge CD!

I was driving to work last week in my rusty, trusty MAZD (I think the "A" fell off somewhere in Lutz) when the odometer clicked past 192,000 miles. It made me feel warm inside thinking I'd soon be steering this 1998 champagne beauty over the 200K mark. It also made me feel warm inside because the AC in the MAZD — or what my daughter calls "Stinky Car" — is kaput. • Next to me, as always, was a satchel of new CDs. That's the drill, every day, to and from work: Keep popping discs into the player until I find magic. The MAZD, which I bought in 2003 for $3,500, doesn't have much going for it, but the stereo cranks, which is essential for a music critic. So I randomly grabbed the first CD that fateful morning: teeny-popper Kristinia DeBarge's Exposed album, featuring sugar-smacked hit single Goodbye. Kristinia is the 19-year-old daughter of James DeBarge, the '80s synth king guilty of Who's Holding Donna Now?

Assuming the cheese wouldn't fall far from the tree, I figured I'd have Kristinia in the stereo for a few harmless minutes, then I'd put in something much more masculine, more critic-y. I slid the CD into the player and . . . kraga-kraga-kragazzzt!!

Oh no.

The MAZD's stereo made a horrific grinding noise, a deathly gurgle — which, to be honest, was probably preferable to anything by Miss DeBarge. But alas, something had gone mechanically awry. I tried to eject Kristinia . . . nothing. Eject! Eject! You've got to be kidding me. Pause. Take a breath. EJECT! EJECT! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, EJECT!

I started sweating profusely (no air-conditioning!) and banging like a deranged maniac on the stereo (Stinky Car!). I was swerving all over I-275, hammering the dashboard, the console, the wheel, screaming to the heavens why the fates had smitten me.

It then dawned on me that someone would have to fix this, and that that someone would be pulling Kristinia DeBarge out of my player, and that that someone would mock the music critic until the music critic cried. Why couldn't I have been listening to Dylan or Motley Crue? Heck, I'd take Helen Reddy. But DeBarge?! That's like getting a porno stuck in your VCR — or, um, so I heard from, like, this guy once.

The love I once felt for the MAZD had instantly been replaced with a steady, panicked mantra: IneedanewcarIneedanewcarIneedanewcar. Who cares about 200,000 miles? Who cares about love and loyalty? I had a DeBarge problem, and it sure sounded fatal. I finally gave up, wiped a tsunami of sweat off my brow and tried to turn on the radio. There was nothing but static. That's when I remembered that the radio antenna snapped off my sad car a few weeks ago.

The MAZD is dead.

Long live the MAZD.

ALBUM REVIEW

SONG REVIEW

Artist

The Duke

and the King

Album: Nothing Gold Can Stay (Ramseur)

In stores: Now

New York state of mind:

I first heard the lush, dreamy sounds of the Duke and the King while driving through the lush, dreamy sights of the Hudson River Valley during a recent trek to the Empire State. It was love-at-first-hear, a shimmery, slightly baked summer crush. Appropriately enough, the breezy folk-pop duo recorded this debut album in a cabin-turned-studio in Woodstock, N.Y. The Duke is Simone Felice (of the Felice Brothers), and the King is enigmatic journeyman Robert "Chicken" Burke. The tandem's name comes from the infamous con men in Huckleberry Finn; the album title comes from the mind of Robert Frost. Now I ask you: Does this not sound like a blissful album?

Messin' around with Jim: The Duke and the King are being compared to Harvest-era Neil Young, maybe even a little Bread, too. But the way I hear it, fantastically ethereal first single If You Ever Get Famous plays like a hidden track on a long-lost Jim Croce album, warmth and heart but stubborn resolve all at once. Felice's voice is a '70s-stuck hippiefied croon, and he'll steal your heart right quick. It's not all unplugged, as trippy effects and weird beats often give the work a Pinkish Floyd hue, as well.

Reminds us of: A rebuttal to Croce's New York's Not My Home

Download these: If You Ever Get Famous and Lose Myself

Grade: A



The Hirsute Playlist

As a former suburban dirtball and a current owner of far too many concert tees with skulls on them, I'm reasonably stoked about the weave of hairy rock bands coming to Tampa. The St. Pete Times Forum gets Judas Priest and Whitesnake on

Aug. 16, then Metallica on Oct. 3. Poison, Def Leppard and Cheap Trick bring their supertour to Ford Amphitheatre on Friday. The way

I see it, the amount of fun you have at a concert is directly proportional to the number of concertgoers who desperately need a haircut. Or, for that matter, a bath. Which means, of course, that the Poison brouhaha is going to be the greatest gig in the history of rock! So to celebrate hairy fun and hirsute fans, here's

a playlist to get us in the fuzzy, furry mood. Bang

your coifs!

1 Get a Haircut,

George Thorogood

2 Bar-Ba-Sol,

David Cook

3 Keep It Greasy,

Frank Zappa

4 Pull Your Hair,

R. Kelly

5 I Kissed a Blonde Girl,

Lil Wayne

6 Razor,

Foo Fighters

7 Apple Shampoo,

Blink-182

8 Red Headed Woman,

Bruce Springsteen

9 The Curly Shuffle,

Jump 'n the Saddle

10 I Think I'm Going Bald, Rush

Buy Sean Daly's Mazd(a) and get a free Kristinia DeBarge CD! 08/08/09 [Last modified: Saturday, August 8, 2009 5:30am]
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