It's time to hand the keys to Chez Watusi back to their owner.

I can't believe the month has flown by so quickly. I had so much more I wanted to write about and then those damned topical news stories got in the way: Jacko died, a local cafe went national on its campaign to justify music piracy and one cover version too many of Hotel California sent me into a rage over the uninspiring local music scene.
Before you know it there go 3000-odd words. Still, they did generate a bit of mail, so before I shut the front door, let's go to the mailbag.
A few music-lovers took exception to my harsh criticism of the local covers scene and asserted that cover bands actually have their place – most notably at private functions.
I agree with the latter. If it's a private function in an outer Mongolian yurt I agree even more. Generally, though, it seems people have no idea what a cushy existence it can be for musicians to go semi-pro and profit from other people's song writing skills and this is my beef. It is immensely harder to face the challenge of delivering your own material than it is to copy the latest song off the radio. It's all about the money. If musicians merely enjoyed playing covers for the hell of it, without the cash and kudos that comes from playing pretend rock stars in public, they'd do it at home, or for free. Yeah, right.
To even up the score, a few musicians also took exception to my criticism. Their almost unanimous defence was that the covers-only Strand scene is essentially ‘the audience's fault', meaning bands are just playing what people want and the audience simply didn't know any better to expect more.
Sure, you'd all be bursting with original material if only it weren't for the damn audience. Bollocks. Look to your peers for inspiration. Popular local covers band, Sharmin, slip some good originals into their sets, with no objections from the crowd. These guys can actually play. They are learning to write with skill so that sets them apart already.
They know that, contrary to the one-hit-wonder, overnight success model we're bombarded with, you have to work at your art over time. The reality is your first efforts will likely be rubbish, so best get onto it and get those out of the way so we can hear what you're really made of.
The other mail bag topic has been the music licensing case that broke last week. In latest developments, Cafe Paradiso, on top of doing what I call the Seven O'clock Sulk on a national TV news-byte show to garner sympathy, has added the Page Three Pout in a local newspaper.
The Fair Go Forlorn Frown must surely be next. Moving on from the initial errant claim that purchasing CDs gave the right to use them how they wished, the cafe is now taking umbrage at the tone of the lawyer's letters, implying heavy-handedness has pushed them into this protest corner.
Given the letters arrived after nearly nine months of non-payment of fees, my advice is to toughen up - and pay up. And it now seems that withholding fees can be righteously justified because Cafe Paradise owner Rob Colmore is unsure where his fees would go: it could be the Wiggles or rappers, he claims.
Doh. I'm sure South American venues can argue the same but still there's that hard-won thing called international copyright law and the fact that non-payment of fees means money goes to absolutely no one and nowhere except into pirates' pockets.
I am yet to out the ‘major Tauranga cafe' that offers Cafe Paradiso immoral and unethical support by also balking at their legal obligation to pay music fees. But I have my sights on them and will keep you posted via Winston Watusi.
To close, thanks for reading, and remember: when taking the moral high ground, check your footing.

By Derrin Richardss