That’s how Rhett Miller opened the Old 97’s show last night at New York City’s Irving Plaza, which reminds me of Trees. The band played a brilliant two-hour set, including a double encore. I, of course, was close enough to be showered in the serial lady killer‘s sweat. One fan shouted for him to take off his pink cowboy shirt, but he declined. Guess he thinks we’ve seen enough of his right nipple to last us a lifetime. Rhett, that’s just not so. Show me yours, I’ll show you mine. The breasts, I mean band, are in Philly tonight, D.C. tomorrow, back in Texas on the 16th. Represent (me and my love) June 19 in Fort Worth and 21 in Dallas.