Traveling through rural Oklahoma with sleep in my eyes, hunger in my gut, and nothing in my mind's ear but the itinerant whiz of passing cars and "The Song That Never Ends," I decided to pull in to the oasis of Tulsa for a good night's sleep, a square meal, and some musical entertainment. Anything to keep Sherri Lewis out of my head.

Nourishment was found at a roadside diner outside city limits. No sense in paying too much for something I'd eat too quickly to taste. Driving into town, I chose the first club I saw, a charming hole-in-the-wall called Grandma's Recipe Seedy Dive. A handstamp later, I was looking at the schedule of events, seated on a barstool. October 12th, Tony Romanello. Worth a shot.

Seeing all the young local females accompanied by young local males in the diner, I strike up a conversation with the normal-looking guy on the stool next to me. After a lengthy discussion of the merits of Transformers versus Go-Bots, he gets up to leave. "I've got a set in ten minutes; we'll settle this later. Optimus Prime can still suck it, though."

The band takes the stage, tearing through their opening number with as much aplomb as any top 40 listener could ask for. To quote Dr. Dre, Tony Romanello "keeps they heads ringing with hooks bigger than all outdoors." Obvious followers of the Romanello saga sing along, and even the lip-chewing lovers in the back bob their heads in time. It seems to be all in a day's work for Tony, and indeed it is; this isn't a revolution in modern rock, merely a reflection of the past five or so years of its history, in a carefully crafted package. Tube-distorted guitars buzz octave riffs and open strings drone in appreciation of latter-day Sunny Day Real Estate while bass and drums stay out the way of the apparent melodic attraction with just enough rhythmic intricacy to be picked up by the musicians in the audience. Every couple of numbers, a man backstage sits down and plinks away chords on a fake- sounding digital piano, only to leave again at the drop of a fuzzed-out rocker.

Bending the ear of the not-unattractive girl in front of me, I ask what else this guy's done locally-- he's obviously got experience on his side. She senses a sounding board for her fascination with Tony Romanello, and spouts off a list of bands, but I only catch "Jify Trip" and "Murmur" before I'm distracted by the sudden reprise of the chorus of the previous song, which ended a few seconds ago. It dies out again and gives way to the first track in Romanello's "Genesoma" suite, titled "Singing Sirens."

Suddenly, a light bulb goes on over my head. He's attempting to bring the epic structures of classic prog-rock to the unsuspecting pop listener. Thinking back on the set so far, Romanello's general grandiosity bears the mark of Yes and Gabriel-era Genesis on the face of otherwise enjoyable, but ordinary modern pop-rock. Without this addition, Romanello might have evaded the musical radar completely. But with it, well... at least I can see the oi-sayers leaving before the closing of their favorite bar.

The pop blend brews itself into a watery slurry as the suitably clichéd "Lo-Fi Dreams in Stereo" continues in the set pattern of verse, chorus, verse, bridge, chorus, pause, reprise and leaves me wanting for nothing more than the sweet release of sleep. I decide not to wait around for Tony. The Go-Bots win tonight, as far as I'm concerned. I pick up a copy of a local music rag and hit the road in search of Tulsa's finest cheap motel.

Plopping myself down on the bed after a decision between one with free movies or a skanky outdoor swimming pool (the pool won), I start reading the record reviews. Tony Romanello is the feature, with a left-handed rave about The MumbleOdd being "the best modern rock solo debut from Tulsa, ever." Another lightbulb crackles on. For these people, Tony is the "local boy done good." There's one in any decent-sized town. One who can write songs that stick in your head and play a mean guitar, but has trouble finding the larger audience they deserve.

I'd rather have this stuff on the radio than Three Doors Down any day of the week, but there's hardly anything here that warrants recommendation over Romanello's peers. Concluding my day, I turn on the air conditioner. At least it's not "The Song That Never Ends."

-Craig Griffith