"Well, tourism is down this year," I responded. (Hotel occupancy rates are off 7.6 percent.) "Maybe that’s why you see fewer people."

"I know the difference between tourist and real New Yorker!" the cabbie shot back. "Tourist only goes from hotel to restaurant, and no tip. They pay $3.50 for a $3.50 fare. New Yorker tips. But he is all gone–empty, everything gone. I never see it before."

Economic indicator? Or maybe just a wackness indicator for a city that bitches about two-day heatwaves during its nicest summer in years. Or maybe since people got cable modems and DSL, they’re downloading videos instead of going out. You didn’t hear it from me. You heard it from the cabbie.

...In any case, one band that deserves a venture into the big, bad, hot city is Clutch–they play Irving Plaza this Wednesday (17 Irving Place, betw. 15th & 16th Sts., 777-6800). Clutch is one of those acts that music critics hem and haw at trying to describe–"It’s best just to say that Clutch is a rock band," etc. No, fools, it’s best to say that Clutch is the band that combines stoner rock with rap metal. Guitarist Tim Sult lays down heavy riffs while singer Neil Fallon talks trash about catnip, Visigoths and his own skills ("Hands down the illest ventriloquist this side of the Mississippi River," he explains in "Pure Rock Fury," the title track of the new album).

Clutch recently dropped its sixth record and has been touring ever since ("I know folks in Wichita as well as Santa Fe/All veterans of the trade"). The band has won support from K-Rock for its uproarious single "Careful with that Mic...," which gives Fallon the chance to mock simian rock-rappers ("You look like Snuffaluffagus and australopithecus/Me Cray, you abacus"). The fact that, after 10 years of rocking, Clutch’s only minor hit is a genre parody is an irony I won’t mention.

This band has a rabid live following for a reason–if you dig one of their songs, you’ll dig them all and you’ll be thrilled with the passion they throw in onstage. Bellvue and Candiria open the show; the latter combines atonal, nasty metal with jazz. It all starts at Irving at 8 p.m.; $16.50 tickets are available at the box office or via Charge by Phone (307-7171).

...If you hate Clutch, you’ll probably like somebody on the Warped Tour–no wait, the Vans Warped Tour–which comes to Randall’s Island this Saturday. The pop-punk show has outlasted all other 90s festivals (H.O.R.D.E., Lilith Fair, Lollapalooza) and the bill, as usual, pairs up strong headliners with decent side acts to keep you entertained as you search for water.

Rollins Band and Me First and the Gimme Gimmes are some of this year’s big attractions. Rollins Band has thankfully retained the lineup from 2000’s Get Some Go Again; they’ll turn in a tight set as Henry Rollins’ Fox TV show, Night Visions, angles for viewers. (The show runs this Thursday at 9 p.m. and plays like Tales from the Crypt with a Cryptkeeper who’s all neck.) The next Rollins Band album, Nice, is prepped for an Aug. 21 release.

As for Me First and the Gimme Gimmes, the punk rock super-cover band that plays old pop and show tunes, I caught up with lead singer Spike on tour.

"It’s been hot. Like Texas and Louisiana and stuff, it’s been hot and stupid. No, I’m kidding. The gene pool is just a little shallow. These people can’t help it." Spike was addressing me from the outskirts of Atlanta, and he seemed a little peeved at being boxed in with the other members of the Gimme Gimmes. (Bassist Fat Mike was in the background explaining how "Gesundheit" means "I hope you die Jew.")

"It’s fucking disgusting. The level of involvement requires an hour to get anywhere near the city. And I love Atlanta. I hate the fact that I’m in the middle of the ghetto and I need to get a runner to go into Atlanta to get anything."

Speaking of ghetto, Eminem’s crew D12 are also performing at Randalls Island, having met up with the Warped Tour on Tuesday. Spike had this to say about them:

"Those people usually keep to themselves and they’re not very social... Maybe they’ll give you a begrudging ‘what up’ when they pass by. All those hiphop bands and those bands that act like rock stars, they don’t fit in. It’s like a carny here, like a big sideshow living on the bus with 10 other people, blistering heat; there’s not much time for ego." The Warped Tour includes skateboarding and BMX showmen, plus San Francisco’s Incredibly Strange Wrestling; it starts at noon on Saturday, tickets are available for $32.50 online at Ticketmaster.com and via Charge by Phone (307-7171).

...The world of cheap parapsychology will never be the same now that underground heroine Miss Cleo is breaking into major news. The "Carribean" of dubious background and even more dubious accent has been selling psychic advice on television for about a year via her "Tarot Card Reedin’." If you haven’t seen her ads, you’d be well advised watch channel 11 until they come on–Miss Cleo sits at a desk with fake smoke and a blue screen taking calls from people who aren’t quite ready for her brand of counsel–"This man you wit’, you run around looking like a pauper and he runs around looking all GQ!" is one of her classics.

But suddenly things are getting hot for Miss Cleo. After inking a deal with MDI Entertaiment to put her face on lottery tickets and inspiring a t-shirt by CrackSac clothing, she got sued by the Missouri attorney general last week for false advertising, unlawful business practices and fraud. According to CNN, "[Miss Cleo’s company] has sent bills to people for calls supposedly made after their death."

The legitimate psychics of the Parapsychology Foundation will hopefully address Miss Cleo’s woes in their 44th Annual Convention, which runs from Wednesday to Saturday at the Metropolitan Hotel (569 Lexington Ave. at 51st St., 752-7000). Topics from the international organization include "computerized ESP testing for children," which sounds like a perfect new market for Kaplan, and psychic phenomena in Bali. If you miss the convention, drop by the Metropolitan on Sunday at 7 p.m., when Dr. Charles T. Tart gives an address on "Scientific Evidence for Taking Spirits Seriously." Sez Miss Cleo: "A-huh!"