I may be a blowhard at times, someone who is occasionally incensed for the sole purpose of being incensed, but I’d like my obit to make mention that I was never above being hilariously/perplexingly hypocritical. With that in mind, I’d like to bring up the fact that, several months ago, I wrote a column about my heated ambivalence towards Facebook. (The rant was tied into my dislike of Halloween – that one still stands.)

Well, fast-forward a couple months and I’m all over the Fbook and Twitter, making astute and witty comments while sending links to show how I’m 30 minutes more informed than you. At the same time I’ve been finishing up a graduate journalism degree, whose ultimate lesson – in the face of folding newspapers and disappearing internships and employment opportunities – has been that I better get on Facebook and Twitter.

What does all this 2.0 mean for musicians? Actually, before that, can we put a moratorium, similar to the one I should have self-imposed, on musicians talking about how they can’t be bothered or are too cool for it?

If your band has a Twitter feed, Facebook account, website and MySpace page, but someone else runs and updates it for you, you’re complicit. Even more than that, if your job involves singing about your life to other people and if someone applauds you while you’re at work, maybe skip the whole subject entirely.

Social networking means that there should be no reason that you can’t get your music out to everyone, immediately. Making it stay in someone’s mind for longer than six minutes is the key and, as always (thank God), it still takes a great album for that. Do that and you might grab someone’s attention for up to a week. But, though the new social networking paradigm is all about the robot, its real hook is connecting the robot to real life.

On April 15, at Divan Orange, Mike Evin is orchestrating some release shindiggery for his new one, Good Watermelon, an album filled with guests that run the gamut from Andy Creeggan (a one-time Barenaked Ladies member, way before they went all Mötley Crüe), Emma Baxter, Angela Desveaux and the bearded badmen of Ideal Lovers. On the night of, Leif Vollebekk opens things. The hook? Buy an advance ticket and get a free copy of the album. Sure, you can rip him off and download it for free, but doing that with up-and-coming artists is bad news, for everyone. Your mother would be horrified.

Also on April 15, Vancouver’s young and fun Hey Ocean play Club Lambi. The hook? Earlier in the day they’ll be busking outside of Soundcentral Records (4486 Coloniale) at 4 p.m., with all proceeds going to Oxfam. Their other hook is that one of the dudes is Shad’s roommate and that their lead singer is cute, but those are a little 1.0…

On April 11, Thunderheist play Club Soda with Winter Gloves and the Peer Pressure DJs. The hook? Given that they were the talk of SXSW, which basically took over the Internet last month, they don’t need one. The hook within that hook? They’re good.

Athena Holmes is a newish Montreal resident, another B.C. resident who finally got fed up with the flannel and Nickelback. She’s a singer/songwriter with a great voice, with songs dipped in a bit of rock, blues, folk and jazz. The hook? If it’s a nice sunny afternoon and you’re walking down Parc, there’s a good chance you might get to hear an impromptu concert wafting down off her balcony. She plays tonight, April 9, at Club Lambi.

My hook for this week’s column? I did the shows in reverse chronology and made you read 600 words in one sitting. That’s almost 4,000 characters.