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For the record, I was not present at the July 19 Jamiroquai show at the 9:30 Club (“Stuck Here on Earth,” 7/23), and I own none of their albums. But how the hell am I to take Neil Drumming seriously as a rock critic? He arrives 15 minutes late for the show and then wonders why he isn’t into the music? Halfway through the article, this guy is standing there feeling uninspired while the entire place is, by his own admission, bouncing off the walls. I can just picture him standing there thinking, “OK, try to look hip. Don’t look too enthusiastic. OK, that’s it—God, I’m so New York, I kill myself.” Listen, Neil, I don’t give a damn about your fantasy wedding, and I really am not interested in why you’re so “uptight,” as you put it. I just want to get a sense as to what this band you were paid to review is all about—and trying to discern Jamiroquai’s essence after it had been filtered through the prism of your own issues proved to be problematic, to say the least. Message to the Washington City Paper: Get Drumming into a job where he can continue to distance himself from the art he’s covering, and replace him with someone who cares enough about the music—and the readers—to actually show up on time. If you want to punch a clock, Neil, there are other places to go.

Dupont Circle

via the Internet