No. 2
March 2005
Firefly Journal
Because the End Times Never End and Everything is Still Possible
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The Blue Dot

It wasn’t long before certain kids, I’ll call them “instigators,” were throwing their friends in clothes and all, and cannonballing after them.

Like swimming, if you haven’t been around great music in a while, you can forget how good it feels. There’s nothing better than the first swim of the season, or the first rad band in ages. You have so much fun you think you might never walk on dry land again.

Stauffer sings about Northern California, stopping to make out in the drive-through redwood tree, redneck cops, smoking weed, apple trees, and homeless punks who probably make more money than you do. He sings about this funny part of the country where isolation and beauty breed ingenuity, a MacGyver-like ability for keeping entertained. It’s a place where the star quarterback of the high school football team is also a drama geek, because there simply aren’t enough kids to fill the clichés.

Stauffer rocks the acoustic.
Stauffer unplugged.
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Drummer Sinclair picks up the trumpet. Drummer Sinclair picks up the trumpet.

You’re likely to meet some of the most affably wacky people in the world here. Partly, that’s genuinely how we are, and partly we act this way because we’re starved for new blood. Some bands you love because they’re your friends, and they weren’t you wouldn’t pick their record out of a line-up. This is not the case with The Blue Dot. The Blue Dot gives voice and atmosphere to the Nor-Cal mindset. Guitars have always dominated rock, and the focus on keyboard with moody or anthem-ic interjections of trumpet and sax make The Blue Dot’s sound discernable and even novel. The Blue Dot are both melodic and hard-driving, with a bit of the poppy jangle of Gardener. They are a band I would see not just at my local meat market, but even if I were in the city with a whole Arts and Entertainment section worth of options. Check them out.