Ha ha. Bobby Lightfoot's Musician's Friend Equipment Review #1: Th' Matsutashi Schitbox 9000

Oh, Jesus MacChrist, if there's anything that makes me pray for blood in my sputum and a black, black chest x-ray it's those fucking Musician's Friend gear catalog "reviews". If you're a regular here odds are decent you've read one in your time. If you haven't all that means is that you're not a washed-up 40-somethin' tosspot who wants to be Pete Townshend at Leeds without all th' messy setup and tinnitus and traveling.

Oh, Musician's Friend has got our fucking number, sailors and sailorettes. It's a mail order catalerg don't you know and they have brilliantly, brilliantly deduced that the best market for music gear is old tosspots like us who are going to slake their midlife crises not with a Ferrari and a secretary's racing-strip shaved verginia but with some sweet prosumer gear, daddy. Just make sure you hide that bad boy 30W valvestate Brian May signitcher AC294 behind th' Passat so the missus doesn't see and then you have to explain how maybe Bucky should do th' two-year thing.

Dude, I'm telling you- th' actual 19-year-old music stars of tomorrow can't buy this fuckin' stuff. They're no kind of fucking market. They're all out on rooftops and in the street and in crappy basement clubs doing weird, striking shit with distressed computer fuckery that carries very little debt to th' crap you and I like. And it can honestly scare you with its alien jungle rhythms that try your sanity. And That Is How It Should Be.

Actually, fuck it- I'll do this tomorrow. I have to work on th' Cifarelli project. It's only 10:40 PM so I've got a good five hour session in front of me.

This'll tide you over . Notice how in the very first paragraphs references to "the serious adult side of your brain" and how you need a small amp for your geriatric back are already front and center.

"At half volume, this thing set all my basement windows to rattling. Its 300 watts drive that big ol' 15-incher like Barry Bonds smacking a baseball over the fence."

Yeah, then your wife told you to shut up or you could forgot about your bi-annual toss off. Oh, those are some big nights, hey. Oh, you close your eyes and it's just like someone else's life for a minute, right? Or yours, just...like it used to be.

Big ol' 15-incher. Boy, that reminds me of that great Aeriosmith song back in high school. Man, those were some times. When I didn't have to take 500 mg of Zantac before I et pizza.

"This thing blasts out frequencies so low you hear 'em with your teeth."

I might skip my car insurance payment this month and get a Peavey Pageifier that makes all my guitar recordings like some shit from the 70's!

Here at Lightfoot Studios we pride ourselves on being able to unapologetically recreate every fucking yestersound in the book by ourselves thank you very much.