From the bowels of the raging underground there came a force of awesome power no mortal could contain. That uncontained force from the bowels was Plastic Age. I believe Robert "-bert" "Rojo" Johnson was the first to adopt the toes-together kung fu-slippered stance which became the vogue for new wave poseur stylists for several minutes in the late mid-eighties. The other "-bert", Albert, concocted a heady broth of rollicking barrelhouse ivory-tinkling and warbling which has not been repeated since. This broth often spilled over onto RoJo who lapped it up. Gainesville will not forget!

Fleagle: I had entirely forgotten that about Robert "Don't Call Me Bob" Johnson. But you're right, he did stand like that. I think it was from playing all those leads in minor pentatonic lydian mode. Or whatever the fuck it was he playing. BK

Rob Neville was perhaps the most overlooked member of this influential whiney homo-poseur assemblage. His deft yet subtle percussive stylings conveyed the anguished lil' gayboy within, yearning to burst forth like a chrysallis in peach chiffon. Neville played a variety of instruments, but none more disarmingly than the sheet of aluminum and runcible spoon he played on "Shut the Fuck Up Loser." In addition to his fine playing, Neville was a captivating showman, with favorable comparisons often made to Liberace. In fact, one observer called Neville "Siegfried" to Rojo's "Roy." Sadly, revelations of a homosexual tryst in the walk-in at Leo's 706 led to tensions which would ultimately tear the band apart. All we have left is the memories. And the stains.