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Bono To The Rescue

Called “rock’s conscience,” U2 frontman and political crusader has met with everyone from Kofi Annan to Colin Powell. What has he been doing recently?

CLEVELAND, OH—Sam Powers’ lifelong passion for music ended this past weekend, when the 35-year-old camera-store assistant manager realized that he no longer derives pleasure from listening to and acquiring new music.

Powers, who no longer has strong feelings for music, enjoys a quiet evening alone.

“It’s always sad when something you thought would last forever ends, but I simply don’t have the energy to put into it anymore,” Powers said Monday. “I’ll always love music, but it’s not going to be at the center of my life anymore. My priorities have changed, I guess.”

Powers said he realized the love affair, which began in 1979 when his brother introduced him to the first Van Halen album, was over Saturday. While preparing spaghetti at his home, Powers chose silence over a TV On The Radio album his friend had burned him.

“Last week, my buddy went to see this band, but I just didn’t feel like going out that night,” Powers said. “I started to listen to their album, and even though it really seemed like my type of music—well, I didn’t know any of the songs. I was just about to put Beck on when I realized that I’d rather be alone with my thoughts.’”

“Look,” Powers added, holding the fingers of his right hand aloft. “My nails used to be worn to the quick from peeling off CD seals. Look at them now. I’m gonna have to use clippers.”

While he said he will miss the deep bonds forged during a lengthy relationship based on respect and admiration, Powers declared the painful decision final.

“Things were running on autopilot for the past few years,” Powers said, pulling a copy of the 1982 X album Under The Big Black Sun from his shelf and staring at it. “I went through the motions for a while—buying a few CDs off the critics’ year-end lists and making it out to a show here and there. But really, that rush I used to feel was gone.”

Powers said it was during the mid-’90s that his longtime flirtation with music developed into a serious involvement with the post-punk scene, one that some say bordered on obsession.

“If he wasn’t at a show or a record store, he was at home listening to music,” friend Keith Tellingham said. “Music and Sam were inseparable. He always had a CD player on him. You couldn’t be around him for more than five minutes without him bringing up music. Man, he had it bad. I still remember the glow on his face at the Shellac/Tar/Six Finger Satellite show a decade ago.”

In spite of reports like Tellingham’s, Powers said he is now secure enough in his musical tastes to not need to chase down new bands like he did when he was younger.

“When I was 22, I felt I needed to find out who was out there and experiment with all different kinds of music,” Powers said. “But I just don’t have the stamina for that now. I can’t get up the energy to seek it out anymore. I’d rather just listen to the bands I already know. If that, even.”

As recently as 1996, Powers could express some familiarity with nearly every popular recording artist. Today, he draws a blank when asked to recall any current Top 10 single.

“The type is so tiny on these charts,” Powers said. “What’s ‘Los Lonely Boys’? Are they like Los Lobos? What’s with the ‘Los’? ‘Hoobastank’? Jesus. Probably some shit punk-metal band, right? No, on second thought, don’t tell me. I don’t even want to know.”

Longtime friend Dean Halperin said that it was Powers’ own refusal to commit sufficient time and energy to music that destroyed what was once a rewarding part of his life.

“This was a guy who was front and center for every important show in Cleveland,” Halperin said. “During the Crooked Fingers concert I dragged him out to last January, Sam just sat at the back of the room wearing earplugs! I even caught him watching the infomercial airing above the bar. It’s too bad that it ended this way, but it’s hard to feel sorry for the guy. He just wasn’t committed.”

Powers’ breakup with music dismayed and perplexed Michael Chaudhary, singer and lead guitarist for Same Four Guys, a local band Powers saw occasionally during the past several years.

“Fuck [Powers],” Chaudhary said. “What does he think? That he can drop me from his life, just like that? I should’ve known he was never going to get serious about being our fan. If he was, he would’ve done the right thing and bought one of our T-shirts a long time ago.”

CLARKSDALE, MS–Ida Mae Dobbs, longtime woman of Willie “Skipbone” Jackson, called a press conference Tuesday to respond to charges levied against her by the legendary Delta blues singer.

Ida Mae Dobbs, woman of blues singer Willie “Skipbone” Jackson (inset).

“Despite what Mr. Jackson would have you believe, I am not an evil-hearted woman who will not let him be,” Dobbs told reporters. “I repeat: I am not an evil-hearted woman who will not let him be. To the contrary, my lovin’ is so sweet, it tastes just like the apple off the tree.”

Dobbs, accused of causing Jackson pain and breaking his heart by calling out another man’s name, categorically denied treating him in a low-down manner.

“He says he sends for his baby, but I don’t come around,” Dobbs, a brownskin woman, said. “He says he sends for his baby, but I don’t come around. Well, the truth is, I do come, but he is out messing with every gal in town.”

During the press conference, Dobbs also disputed an Aug. 27 statement made by Jackson, who compared her to a dresser because someone is always going through her drawers.

“My drawers have not been gone through by any man but Willie “Skipbone” Jackson,” Dobbs said. “Neither Slim McGee nor Melvin Brown has ever been in my drawers. Nor has Sonny ‘Spoonthumb’ Perkins, nor any of those other no-good jokers down by the railroad tracks. My policy has always been to keep my drawers closed to everyone but Mr. Jackson, as I am his woman and would never treat him so unkind.”

In addition to denying Jackson’s drawer-opening allegations, Dobbs disputed charges of unrestricted sweet-potato-pie distribution, insisting that her pie is available only to Jackson.

“I do not give out my sweet potato pie arbitrarily, as I am not the sort of no-good doney who engages in such objectionable behavior,” Dobbs told reporters. “Only one man can taste my sweet potato pie, and I believe I have made it perfectly clear who that man is.” Dobbs noted that the same policy applies to her biscuits, which may be buttered only by Jackson.

While most of the accusations levied against Dobbs relate to her running around town with other men, she does face one far more serious charge, attempted homicide. On May 5, 1998, Jackson was rushed to the hospital and narrowly escaped death after ingesting nearly five ounces of gasoline. Jackson claimed that Dobbs tried to murder him, serving him a glass of the toxic fuel when he requested water. Dobbs dismissed the episode as “an accident.”

Dobbs, a short-dress, big-legged woman from Coahoma County, said it is not she but Jackson who should be forced to defend himself. According to Dobbs, Jackson frequently has devilment on his mind, staying up until all hours of the night rolling dice and drinking smokestack lightning.

“Six nights out of seven, he goes off and gets his swerve on while I sit at home by myself. Then he comes knocking on my door at 4 a.m., expecting me to rock him until his back no longer has any bone,” Dobbs said. “Is that any way for a man to treat his woman? I don’t want to, but if he keeps doing me wrong like this, I am going to take my lovin’ and give it to another man.”

Added Dobbs: “Skipbone Jackson is going to be the death of me.”

Dobbs said that until she receives an apology from Jackson and a full retraction of all accusations, he will not be given any grinding.

“Mr. Jackson says that I stay out all night and that I’m not talking right. He says he has rambling on his mind as a result of my treating him so unkind. He says I want every downtown man I meet and says they shouldn’t even let me on the street,” Dobbs said. “Well, I refuse to allow my name to be dragged through the mud like this any longer. Unless my man puts an end to these unfair attacks on my character, I will neither rock nor roll him to the break of dawn. I am through with his low-down ways.”

ATHENS, OH—Keith Bonifer, 34, a regular and frequently intoxicated patron of Araby’s Pub, impressed fellow customers Tuesday by accurately singing along to every word of “Save Your Love,” Great White’s epic 1987 power ballad. ”He knew the whole thing, even after five boilermakers,” bartender Bill Riggs said of Bonifer’s flawless 5-minute, 46-second performance, during which he reportedly demonstrated admirable restraint by not staggering around the bar to get other patrons to sing with him. “He even knew the part where it goes ‘so lock the door and throw away the key,’ which I always thought was ‘so rock me more and throw away the key.’ Makes a lot more sense, actually.” Due to the way Bonifer moved his hands during the solo, bar patrons speculated that he might also be adept at playing the song on guitar.

LONDON—Pop superstar Madonna has once again wowed music critics and consumers alike with her latest offering, Hard Candy, an album that has garnered unanimous praise for the ease with which it can be exchanged for money. “Fans will find this record just as for sale as anything else in Madonna’s wonderfully obtainable oeuvre,” said NME staff writer Henry Carter, who also lauded individual tracks on Hard Candy as being available for 99 cents each on iTunes. “There’s something here that anyone can pay for, whether they are longtime buyers of Madonna’s albums or new to spending money on her music.” Although Hard Candy has only been available for three weeks, its format of a two-channel 16-bit PCM encoding at a 44.1 kHz sampling rate per channel has already drawn comparisons to such classic CDs as the Beatles’ Abbey Road and the Spin Doctors’ Turn It Upside Down.

ROCKFORD, IL—Retired post office branch manager Nancy Hollander, 97, died at her home of natural causes Tuesday, after spending her life completely unaware that she was one of the most talented musicians of the past century and possessed the untapped ability to become a world-class violin virtuoso.

She is survived by two daughters, a son, six grandchildren, and three great-grandchildren, all of whom will forever remain oblivious to the national treasure Hollander would have become had she just picked up a violin even once.

“We’re really going to miss Mom—she was such a gentle, sensitive, perceptive person,” said Hollander’s son, David, unknowingly outlining qualities that would have infused his mother’s interpretation of Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto with a singular, haunting beauty capable of moving the most jaded of souls. “Even though she never drew attention to herself, Mom had such a strong, commanding presence.”

“I swear, she should have been an actress or something,” he added.

Former colleagues at the U.S. Post Office branch where Hollander worked for 40 years also fondly remembered the unexploited musical genius who, had she ever taken in hand a freshly rosined bow, would have instead been fondly remembered by various musical luminaries and heads of state in a special three-hour tribute concert on PBS.

What could have been Hollander’s 70th birthday celebration, rather than dinner at a local seafood buffet.

“Nancy was the most gracious person I ever met,” said retired coworker Geraldine Hunter, 82, echoing nearly verbatim what Pope John Paul II would have said after inviting Hollander to play at the Vatican in 1989. “She really lived every day to its fullest, and I don’t think she could have been blessed with a better life.”

Hunter also recalled Hollander’s humility when being promoted to manager—the highlight of Hollander’s professional life, as opposed to playing the Franck Sonata at Carnegie Hall accompanied by world-renowned pianist Vladimir Ashkenazy as Itzhak Perlman wept openly with sheer joy from the front row.

According to sources, Hollander was very active in her church. Pastor Frank Davis said that she took the most joy in singing with the choir during holiday masses, an experience she would have found a hellish, atonal cacophony had she completed the highest level of ear-training at The Juilliard School, where she could have received a full scholarship based entirely on the strength of her student audition.

“To be honest, she didn’t have the best singing voice in the world,” Davis said. “But she really put her heart and soul into it, and she had an uncanny ability to sing any hymn all the way through perfectly after hearing it just once.”

Davis also praised the potato salad Hollander brought to church picnics, heartbreakingly referring to it as “world famous.”

Perhaps most distraught by Hollander’s passing were her great-grandchildren, who seemed to have some dim perception of being robbed—along with the rest of the world—of their great-grandmother’s tour de force performances in rapt concert halls from Vienna to Tokyo.

“Grammy was really funny, like when she would play silly songs on the ukulele to make us laugh,” said Lilly, 6, referring to the instrument purchased for Hollander on her seventh birthday in 1920, her father having paused momentarily in the music store to consider a violin. “I miss her a lot.”

“When I grow up, I want to play the ukulele just like Grammy,” Lilly added.

WASHINGTON, DC–Continuing its long-running debate on the subject Monday, members of Congress argued the merits of Canadian power trio Rush. “‘The philosopher and the plowman, each must play his part’?” asked House Majority Leader Dick Armey (R-TX). “C’mon. Neil Peart must be the most pretentious lyricist in arena-rock history. Gentlemen, forget these bloated, overrated ’70s dinosaurs.” Countered longtime Rush loyalist Rep. Peter DeFazio (D-OR): “Keep talking, man, the tunes say it all: ‘Passage To Bangkok’? ‘By-Tor And The Snow Dog’? That part in ‘Red Barchetta’ where [Rush bassist/vocalist] Geddy [Lee] sings about the gleaming alloy aircar shooting toward him two lanes wide? Look me in the eye and tell me that doesn’t rock, motherfucker!” The deliberations are expected to continue throughout the week.