The Name Stuck...

Like toilet paper to the shoe of an unsuspecting idiot.

The Savoys were about halfway finished our final performance at the Redcliff Hylton when things started to go awry. Truth be known, the whole band was leery of playing at the Hylton, as I would say that the general clientele of the bar has little appreciation for music beyond Creedence Clearwater Revival, AC/DC and Lynyrd Skynyrd. This is a run-down Hotel where the local bottom-feeders like to blow their pogey cheques on their poisons of choice. It's seedy, it's rough, and when the patrons want to hear "House of the Rising Sun", you'd better know how to play it, or learn -- rapidly.

Our experience at the Hylton ended up not quite being as bad as we had suspected. In fact, we were quite well-received Friday night. Even Saturday went well, though there were a few rowdy drunks who expressed their distaste in our preference in music.

One particular piece of white trash decided to heckle us, by calling us "Brass Holes". The comment did not have the intended effect, as the entire band doubled over in hysterical laughter -- and for the rest of the night we rubbed this smug remark in his face as we adopted the name "The Savoys and the Brassholes".

We might have a new band name.