Somewhere in WashingtonD.C. there are, presumably, a handful of girls related to, or even worse, romantically involved with, some or all of the members of The Capitol City Dusters, dreading the next gig. I feel their pain. At least I did for 41 minutes and 30 seconds. What you need to know: “I’ve got the heart of a revolutionary, but I’m singing like a yellow canary.” File this under “For those who forgot to rock” and steer clear.