“I’ve got a bad outside hook-shot. I’m allergic to eggs. I’ve got a $6 haircut. I mean, I have problems, I don’t need this one.” – Scott Howard, Teen Wolf
FILE UNDER: hipsters; photo booth patrons; compulsive checkers of myspace accounts; those who split rent eight ways; scenesters; Whole Foods employees; buyers of overpriced, glorified Hanes-quality garb from American Apparel; photography majors; thrift store scavengers; bloggers; you with the closet full of Urban Outfitters clearance swag; lovers of unicorns, sculls, and slap bracelets; baristas, err … Starbucks employees; art history minors; takers of black and white photographs; drivers of boxy late '80s Jettas; Pitchfork readers; film goers who apparently never see “movies;” waif with the faux bed head; carriers of messenger bags; anyone with tight black jeans and more keys than Bookman from Good Times; Parliament smokers; walking clichés with stars or hummingbirds inked on their bodies; buyers of vintage instruments whose band hasn’t made it out of your Wicker Park living room; ah … that last one except you call your Wicker Park living room your “flat;” people who’s viewing habits don’t stray from Adult Swim cartoons; wearers of Asics, New Balance, Pumas, or Sauconys in styles that once guaranteed a school yard beating; alleged readers of Noam Chomsky; women that look like your younger brother; poet/poetesses and those who can say slam poetry without cringing; coffee snobs; collectors of vinyl; BUT MOSTLY ANYONE WITH THE WORD “WOLF” IN THEIR BAND NAME.
Conformity’s an itchy word, it crawls up your skinny black twill pants and bites you where you live, you know, on a mattress in a room you share with the drummer and his girlfriend, the aspirant masseuse. So, as you scrounge for Old Style funds and pass around Parliament lights brainstorming potential band names, I beg of you to not further besmirch the unimpeachable legacy of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and settle on a name like Deer Wolf, Wolf Paws, Bradford Cox Needs to Eat a Hundred Sandwiches Wolf, or even Old Country Buffet is No Wolf Friend of Bradford Cox like the crummy lupine-themed monikers listed below:
Peanut Butter Wolf, Sea Wolf, Wolfman Jack, Wolfmother, Wolf and Cub, AIDS Wolf, Wolfy, Wolf Bite, We Are Wolves, Wolf Colonel, Wolf Parade, Peter and the Wolf, Patrick Wolf, Superwolf, Wolf Eyes, Lone Wolf and Cub, Guitar Wolf, Wolf, Wolftron, Wolfie, Wolfbrigade, Wolf People, Wolfstone, Wolfman and the Side-Effects, Wolfen Society, Wolf Hollow, Wolfgang, Wolf Whistle, Wolf Creek, Wolf Pack, Wolf’s Rain …
Ok, Wolf’s Rain is where to draw the line because frankly a wolf never causes it to rain on Wolf Hollow, not even to fill Wolf Creek. For more “wolfness,” consult the search feature on myspace.com and, if we’ve learned anything here, it’s that Old Country Buffet is No Wolf Friend of Bradford Cox is the only acceptable name for your band.
