Ode to The Dust Mites

  It was a brisk November evening - the meteor showers were still hours away. After a three-day binge of clementine oranges and Ritz Crackers, I staggered into the Broadway Central Cafe in South Amboy, New Jersey.
   I arrived as The Dust Mites were midway through their first song, "Close Encounters."
   I was a man in aural smuck. the band was deeply drawn in twin bass assault, while twin guitars noodled into gray matter perfectly.  Time signatures stretched and humped out at the milling Saturday night local question mark crowd.
   I was a witness to the beginning of the perfect unknown band. They are going to do something or nothing at all.  But the fact remains that are truly beautiful. They are soup, They are a blend.  They touch, drive, and survive amidst their own undoing. It is all about the ruins they create. And when they finish they are sad. Seeing them forced me to write this:

Bendable motif,
Carry sweet strained piranha,
In sideways convention
Past windows drawn scarlet.

This is an act to watch for.
An act to go and watch.
And a band that I will see again.--

Two guitars - Two basses - 1 Bones drummer
What else could I possibly even want?
Except maybe another clementine
To feed the monkey on my back

                                           --Mike Grau 11/17/01

The Dust Mites