New Sound comes on so hip it's a parody of The Scene. . . (Like, man, I mean it really digs its own grave). . . in the person of Stacy Nova of the Flesh-Colored Bandaid, lately Stanley Novotny, Chicago highschooler. . . who tells it like it was splitting from home, hitting the Big Time (via Chicago clip joints, a Nashville recording stint, an off-off-Broadway pit band), meeting big names and making big money (but does that make you a nuclear expert? and what's the fun of chicks who come easy?). . . and then the drop: the platters stop selling; the sound is stale. . . Is the Bandaid washed up? Stacy cuts out, winds up wed to steadfast Miss Ottumwa, Iowa, and waiting, wiser, for the knack to come back. . . . The inside track on the record business, the real dope on pot. . . in a lingo that straightens out along with Stash. It's easy to put down but some kids won't. . . until the bottom drops out of this bag.