Greetings friends and fiends. You may have noticed that we underwent a facelift over the weekend. What you see now is leaner, meaner Gig where we will bring you even more rad Pop Culture Happenings, News and Event Reports in a virtual environment with much less clunk in the trunk.
Many of the old dead service pages that nobody ever looked at have been eliminated and I am in the process of updating the Interview archives for your perusal. Oh, the Radness.
Worley Gig is now hosted by WordPress, having escaped the tyranny of our former Hostage Company, so you should no longer experience any messages that the site is down, as had been the case with our former host. Special thanks to Ian Koss for the new site design and supervision of the move.
Worley Gig Dot Com Turns Ten in June, so stay tuned for more good times ahead and thanks for your readership!
Due to persistent and chronic hacking of this site by an unknown entity that hates bacon and all things Rad, The Worley Gig will be moving to a new host server some time this weekend. We would like to take this opportunity to thank Ian Koss at the wonderful UBI Korp for his years of devoted, cheerful service and unfailing, proactive willingness to troubleshoot a problem that, unfortunately, proved to be just too confounding to warrant much more of anybody’s time trying to solve. The ‘Gig may experience a few hours of downtime while the move takes place, so please come back later if we are found to be temporarily unavailable.
I don’t care what anybody says about Sting being some kind of a Sex God: Stewart Copeland is smokin’ hot!
“I’m a cartoon American, with a deep understanding of the English psyche. I went to British boarding school. As an adult I was in England. My band, The Police, was an English band, I broke out of England. I’m more English than I care to admit. Although, like I said, I’m American, goddamnit.”
Gail and Ian Dancing at the Wedding of David Lee Beowulf, April 2002
Ian’s Dream, as Told to Gail
We had rented some hotel room in Melbourne as a party pad. I was
there with a bunch of friends, we were smoking something special in a
weird way — putting it on the stem of these miniature palm fronds.
This guy kept leaving the door open for some reason.
We’d closed the door when there’s a knock on it. We open it and it’s
the hotel manager, with a large group of expectant/confused kids
behind him. Like a hundred kids. We’re a bit freaked out, what with
the funny smell and everything, but the manager starts going on and
on, talking about how glad he is to have us here, how we’re
beautiful, and that it’s a real honor for us to stay in his hotel and
visit the town of Melbourne. What the fuck? Eventually we figure out
that he thinks we’re a band from Chicago named ‘Beautiful’ (do they
exist? It’s not a very Google-friendly name), hence the look on the
After a while, the band shows up, and we have a good laugh over the
whole thing. I give them my phone number so they can call me next
time they’re in town, writing it on a slip of paper. The singer looks
at it and goes ‘Koss… that’s what’s written on the headphone amp
that we have in the studio.’