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    "Hey, Mr. Deejay: Bend over and spread 'em."

    By Lois Beckett

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    Big Farma

    Meet the Minnesotans who receive federal subsidies for not growing anything.

    By Matt Snyders

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    Rent-a-Wreck

    We begin our countdown of New York's Ten Worst Landlords.

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  • Broward-Palm Beach New Times

    The Grow House Murder

    The sweet smell of ganja was a dead giveaway. So was the dead body in the freezer.

    By Gail Shepherd

Eli Jones

10 p.m. Saturday, December 13. The Gramophone, 4243 Manchester Avenue.

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By Roy Kasten

Published on December 09, 2008 at 3:51pm

Recent (if underdeveloped) trends indicate a realignment of the jam band fraternal order, a shift from Grateful Dead necrophilia and Dave Matthews devotionalism to a more song-centered fusion of funk, blues and soul. Case in point is the Chicago big band Eli Jones, which gains distance from collegiate neo-hippie boogie through smartly charted horns, a gritty, Rufus-esque rhythm section, and a singer, Stefanie Berecz, who sounds uncannily like a de-glammed and de-glossed Joss Stone. Founder and guitarist Brendan O'Connell can still push the interstellar envelope when the 'shrooms kick in, but the band is mostly content to play the rhythm and the blues, without excessive deference to past masters and without overthinking a good, soulful thing.