After a night at a former speakeasy with still-boozey paneling, 2nd story railings one could brawl through, prohibition-era escape route, a metal curl of stairs on stage strung with Xmas lights looking less weight-bearing and more DNA, I declare an intent to rewrite all rock lyrics. OK, says J, but you need rules. OK, says I, Bienvenue ala Ort Cloud Candelabra. “The possibility of song within that world… like saying ‘yes’ to sunlight” (Paul Blackburn) and other statements of poetics put some Vitamin D back into those pursuits.