The Next Jett Black

Detroit, as of late, has been hard-put to uphold its reputation as Rock 'n' Roll Capital of the World. The disco disease is spreading in epidemic proportions at a time when the current breed of bar bands are nothing more than Aerosmith copies. Alas, melancholy strikes Motown.

Flipping through a paper one day , I spied an ad that reajd 'Jett Black — The Next Alice Cooper'. Egad, I thought dispairingly, haven't these promoters learned their lesson yet? It's the fataltomparison gimmick. Yet, it was just that which brought me to Ypsilanti's Sure Thing on March 19.

After ordering, a pitcher of brew and settling into a ringside seat, I inspected the band. Hmmm. No snakes, nooses or mascara. No stage props at all. Nothing outrageous on the surface. Just then, the 'new Coopers' launched into a very tasty rendition of Bowie's 'Queen Bitch'. Holy Moley, I muttered, I ain't NEVER heard a bar band do this one. During the course of the ' evening I heard plenty of tunes I ain't never heard a bar band do.