It's official: Berkeley and San Francisco's Mission District don't have a monopoly on all things weird/quirky/eccentric.  Those elements exist even in the sleepy suburbs, places stereotypically classified as artistically dull unless Arcade Fire writes an album about them.  It's no grand mystery--drugs reach the suburbs too, and people have a lot more free time to take them than in the ever-hustling Big City. Not that I'm insinuating Vacaville-based Trevor the Fly is on drugs, but listening to their music is certainly a mind-altering experience in itself.  Full of dynamic time changes, abrasive vocals, abrupt shifts in mood and melodies that [...]