Over at the LBC blog, the minority opinion for Case Histories has been unveiled. Unsurprisingly, there’s a good deal of controversy. You’d think that some of us were swing voters resigning from the Supreme Court at the last minute. But I’d like to address the main concern — chiefly, the “solo songs of appreciation and endorsement” that are allegedly sung by Mark Sarvas, Scott Esposito and myself.

Yes, it’s true that the three of us are now playing in an emopunk trio called the Banvilles (with Lizzie occasionally stepping in to provide sleazy lyrics while tying Scott up to the ride cymbal stand). You can catch us every other Tuesday at various nightclubs in Santa Monica. We even have a special performance set for August in Helsinki. But since the band itself has only been together for six months, I think it’s safe to say that nobody is polished enough to embark on a solo career. The problem, beyond the fact that individually and collectively we have very specific tastes that prevent us from performing with “appreciation and endorsement,” is that while we toss books at our audience, the performance highlights are hinged upon mock fistfights between Mark and I that are intended to evoke the animosity of the Gallgher brothers.

No one is injured in these staged battles, but it does get the crowd going. Because most of the audience understands that both the performance and the stage presence are intended to exude a certain informed passion for books and that everyone has different sensibilities. After the end of a performance, the trio gets together to watch a 16mm print of “Free to Be, You and Me” to get the adrenaline out of our system. Sometimes, we share small cartons of milk and give each other hugs that serve as surrogates to mantras of self-affirmation. Opinions are respected and informed dissent is reclaimed.

Really, at the end of the day, it’s the music that counts. And we sincerely hope that most people comprehend that our songs cut across a wide swath of feelings.

If this doesn’t clear anything up, I invite any and all readers to send clothespins (also known as C47s) to my P.O. Box, ideally with an explanatory note if you happen to remain perplexed. I will happily distribute these clothespins on to the appropriate parties so that they can affix these painful items to their nostrils. Hopefully, this will preclude any given LBC member’s nose from staying in the air too long.

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