"O n Thursday [October 8], we played the Cannibal Bar," says Christian Schinelli of the problematically titled San Diego band, The Price of Dope. It seems the Cannibal Bar doesn't approve of the band's name. "When we got there, we saw that they didn't put us on the marquis. They left the name of the previous night's band instead. And in their monthly calendar, on our two Thursday nights, they wrote in *acid jazz,* where our name should have been. They didn't put us in the Reader ad, or on the mailing list either."

How the Cannibal Bar figures *acid jazz* to be more politically benevolent than "The Price of Dope" is a mystery. A friend suggested they rename themselves, The Price of Acid. "These people are so afraid," continued Schinelli. "Either they [the Cannibal Bar] are going to have to put our name up, or we're not going to play there anymore. We're going to give them another week and see what happens."

Not surprisingly, marquis and advertising controversies are nothing new to The Price of Dope. After all, the title rouses images of dark alleys, trench coats, and empty Mad Dog bottles at bum's feet. Not necessarily the image a respectable business tries to sustain. But who says night clubs are respectable businesses? And if you don't like the name that much, don't hire the band? There was the infamous email, written and sent in bulk by Mary Louise Rogers, the morally conscious, honorary Mayor of Pacific Beach, and member of the Pacific Beach Town Council. "It was close to Christmas and `Price of Dope' was on the Marquis at Blind Melons." Christian said, barely containing his disdain. "She emailed the San Diego Police Department, Blind Melons and numerous clubs and other businesses on Garnet Avenue. She said promoting drug sales and drug use so close to Christmas time was a bad idea and she was against it. We got a good laugh out of it."

Even Winston's, one of the more casual night clubs in town--where stoners congregate on Dead-Head Mondays like parishioners at a bake sale--was frightened of the name. "Bill [Winston] didn't want us to play there because he didn't want *The Price of Dope* anywhere near his name in the Reader. So we thought, OK, forget it then. We'll play at G Lounge. Then, a few months later, Bill decided he could deal with it."

When they created the name, did The Price of Dope anticipate the remonstration they received? Did they want it? Knowing how controversy can incite recognition. "We were originally called Flipside," he said. "But it was like a takeoff of the B-Side Players, so we decided to skip that name. We were at band practice and had written a song. I decided that the name of the song should be "The Price of Dope." Then Jeff the drummer said, `Why don't we name the *band,* The Price of Dope?' It was kind of a joke, but we were all into it. And we thought *nobody* is gonna forget that name."

I remember the first Price of Dope flyer I saw. It was pasted over the men's room urinal like a condom ad. Maybe I'm an unbridled heathen, but I got a kick out of it, and made a mental note: *check out The Price of Dope.*

"We initially thought the name would be a problem as we got further along in our career," remarked Schinelli. "If we ever wanted to get bigger, we thought the name might not get us all the way there. But then we started digging up names of bands that are pretty raunchy themselves, that people get away with all the time. Bands like NWA [Niggers with Attitudes], Butthole Surfers, and even the Sex Pistols."

Also, The Price of Dope recognized the ambiguity of the name, and used it to their advantage. "We have different explanations for the same name," he explained. "If our grandparents ask, `Why did you come out with that name?' We could say `when you see a homeless person on the street, that person has paid the price of dope; He paid the price of his addiction.' Or if the person asking is against drugs we would say that dope means, fresh or hip or jive. If the person was cool, then it could mean the actual cost to buy pot. And, if the person looked completely republican I would say, `yeah I play in the band POD."

The letter: "To: Councilman Byron Wears & Gene Barnes, ABC, Sgt. Scott Lee, Narcotics Section, SDPD This morning, after getting my coffee at Kono's, I looked up and saw the sign advertising what's going on at Blind Melons. What I find outrageous is their blatant advertisement of the sale of dope. The sign clearly says "Price of Dope" (probably some band, but who knows). . . It's bad enough having 64 (or is it 67) alcohol licensees in Pacific Beach, but now we have publicly advertised dispensers of dope too?

As the 1997 honorary mayor of Pacific Beach, I'd like to ask a favor. In the spirit of Christmas, why don't you all give me a present and get rid of that (&*%#@ ) sign!

From the desk of Mary Louise Rogers.
CC: John Gregory, LT. Lou Scanlon, the office of Tim Norris."