Or have we become accustomed to nibbling on dates for Depeche Mode, or snacking on the routings for U2 and Joan Osborne? Maybe we are spoiled, even jaded, because we have grown used to seeing fresh dates for bands like Backstreet Boys and Tool greet us every morning.

But a healthy tour date diet means more than just a few scattered announcements for Van Morrison. Like a fine winter black Perigord truffle or a delicious duck foie gras, our palates are amazed and our tongues overwhelmed with the seasoned feistiness of schedules for Mr. Scruff and Slipknot. We feast upon the routings for Kenny Neal and Roxy Music until our stomachs are full and our bowels cry out for voiding.

Is the itinerary for ‘N Sync not unlike the complex bouquet of a 1995 Pinot Noir? We savor the dates for AC/DC just as we look forward to dining on cigale de mer and Kenny Wayne Shepherd ala Spago. Our senses come alive after just one whiff of Medeski Martin and Wood’s splendid aroma and our spirits leap with anticipation of a deliciously sautéed Karla Bonoff.

And to the skeptics that doubt our sincerity; We have dedicated our culinary lives to capturing the latest concert information for Stereophonics, the most scrumptious travel plans for Dee Dee Ramone and the delightful morsels that make up the individual show dates for Bruce Hornsby. Make no mistake about it. We are bingers, not purgers. We lap up dates for Dave Matthews Band and Jonatha Brooke as if we are dining on an exquisite meal of escargot and French Langres. The Offspring dates provide fuel to face yet another day in mankind’s struggle for sustenance and growth.

It goes without saying that we’ll be ready to do it again tomorrow, the next day, and the day after that. For we are dedicated to bringing to you the ripened dates for Gabe Dixon Band and the meatiest schedules for 38 Special and Bodeans. Yes, you can count on us as we unselfishly spend our time collecting the concert data that makes every day worth living, every breath a joy, and every new Little Charlie & The Nightcats date the epitome of a flavorful orgasm of gastronomical proportions.

Unless, of course, we can snag a free pass for a matinee showing of “Hannibal.” Try as we might, we just can’t get that brain scene out of our minds. Until next time, bon appetite.