The New York Times may have raved about the Spam Allstars to no end. S.O.B.'s (also in New York) may have become the band members' second home. MTV might feature them with a page of their own, and the festival circuit might have latched on to their patented brand of groove thang. But for all intents and cross-cult purposes they remain a Miami band. Hell, in more than a few certain swingin' circles, they're the Miami band.
We're talkin' Spam Allstars, natch, the only gang in town who truly encompasses our multitudes.
You've caught 'em on a Thursday, shaking the rafters of the fabled Hoy Como Ayer; you've caught 'em on a Saturday, bringing down the stars at the North Beach bandshell; and you've caught 'em on the walk, on the run, and in your ride, when your drive becomes one with the universal funky. And each time the catch has been better than the last.
