Original post from Oct. 26th:
John Peel 1939-2004
Damn.. ANOTHER person who influenced my early music geekdom gone. The first Peel Session I remember hearing was a Billy Bragg 12" Peel Sessions EP around 1987. So many great Peel Sessions sit on my shelves: Birthday Party, Thin Lizzy, PJ Harvey, Nirvana, Joy Division, Nick Cave, Jesus & Mary Chain, White Stripes, etc. etc. etc.
Peel Sessions helped educate me in my Anglophile Rock ways during my formative years.
One of my favorite ones from recent years is a PJ Harvey session from his 'Peel Acres' show (which was done from his farm in Suffolk). At one point, he and PJ got all geek about Captain Beefheart and Peel offered to dub PJ a copy of a Beefheart bootleg she'd never heard.
Peace.
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ADDENDUM #1:
Miatomic adds: "I have a copy of the Close Lobsters Peel Sessions. It's got a brilliant version of 'I'm Going To Heaven To See If It Rains'."
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ADDENDUM #2:
John Peel was laid to rest today. Tijanna submitted her excellent Peel memories:
The first time I went to London I got to sit in on TWO John Peel Sessions. I saw him interview Brian May of Queen and I also got to see him interview John Entwhistle, who was one of my idols. I got John E.'s autograph and even asked him a question, which he answered!
The two 2-hour sessions were intimate and real and groovy maaaannnnn..... Yeah, there were these little advertisements in Time Out that were like, "Come on down and be part of the audience" type things. Like, "Run down to the grocery store for our special and bring this coupon with you."
I asked Entwhistle something about, since I'm small and have little hands, what type of bass would he recommend for me to play. He suggested a Steinberger. I tried one out shortly after that but they're too unbalanced for me (and really heavy). Too much on the body end and not enough on the neck."
Friday, November 12, 2004
Thursday, November 11, 2004
Bleed The Geek
For better or worse, this blog is mostly Music Geek Land. P'raps in the future there will be more non-music content.. but til then this space will be more interested in 7" colored vinyl than possible election fraud on the Florida Panhandle. I leave political blogging to The Kidz.. Because I believe that children are our future.. Teach them well and let them lead the way.
Anywho...
The Brian Jonestown Massacre
Bottom of the Hill, S.F.
November 10, 2004
This was the type of gig experience that reminded me of being a young music geek. Carpe Diem Lock 'N Loll.. The show started at 9:30pm, but after watching 'Lost' I was on the verge of staying home. However, I did the 'ol Devil and Angel on opposing shoulders inner monologue and left the house at 10:44pm.
Back in 1992 a girl I sorta, kinda dated told me about a band called The Brian Jonestown Massacre who lived near her in The Haight. She was a photographer of genuine talent and showed me pics she'd taken of them. Fast forward 12 years and I have no idea what happened to that girl... but here I was leaving the warmth and safety of my home in the middle of the night to go see that same band.
As fate would have it, I finally saw the documentary Dig! the night before this gig. In my opinion, it's everything that Some Kind Of Monster wasn't.. Yeah, it depicts drug addict, unstable musicians. Yeah, it depicts egotistical, dysfunctional musicians. Yeah, but it also depicts two bands whose music I really dig (pun intended)... But ultimately the film is about "the music" and the eternal battle of Creativity vs. The Biz.. AND there are no millionaire Rock Stars whining about their lot in life while selling their Basquiat collections at Christie's.
The last time I saw BJM was 6 months ago and it was a MESS. Anton was out of it, the band was out of it, and they barely made it through songs. After 40 minutes I was already on my way back home after Anton jumped off the stage to fight a guy in the crowd.
Since that night, Dig! was released and it's received alot of attention. I'm sure folks are checking out BJM simply to see if Anton will lose it onstage like he does in the film. I'm sure folks are checking out BJM to badger Anton so he will lose it onstage like he does in the film. Sad that those expectations aren't based on the band's music, because I think Anton's songwriting and talent are fuckin' brilliant.
True to this line of thought, the Bottom of the Hill was packed. The show 6 months ago was rather empty. Waiting for BJM to get onstage I hoped they would come out and just kick ass.. I sensed that quite a few audience members had seen the documentary and were mainly there to see "that insane guy" Anton. I wanted Anton and BJM to let the music do the talking.
'Round 11:30pm BJM were onstage and blasted through 3 or 4 songs without Anton saying one word to the crowd. My brain was spinning. By 1:20am I was back out on the rainy streets of S.F. sort of dazed and reunited with the Jetta. On the way back to the car, some pimply-faced teenagers called me a fag. BJM had played one of the best sets I'd seen all year.
They were all business for at least the first hour, then the alcohol started kicking in... but Anton and the band didn't fall apart like they might have in the past. Yeah, there were a couple of moments where you felt the crowd tense as Anton ranted about something or at someone... but he and the band held it together. After a tense (but ultimately funny) encounter with a heckler, Anton stepped to the mic and the band slammed into a roaring version of 'Going To Hell'. All I could say to myself was "Goddam, I'm glad I left the house tonight..."
"You live in a dream, and it's not going well.. Superman cannot save you 'cause you're going to Hell."
Hmmm... As I was typing this I had Hüsker Dü's 'Candy Apple Grey' album playing (on vinyl!)... I haven't listened to it in a LONG time. It still holds up.
Here's something for The Kidz: The other day on NPR, Terry Gross mentioned that U.S. Military Intelligence plays Metallica, Sesame Street, and Barney music to Iraqi prisoners to soften them up for interrogation.
Geek out.
Anywho...
The Brian Jonestown Massacre
Bottom of the Hill, S.F.
November 10, 2004
This was the type of gig experience that reminded me of being a young music geek. Carpe Diem Lock 'N Loll.. The show started at 9:30pm, but after watching 'Lost' I was on the verge of staying home. However, I did the 'ol Devil and Angel on opposing shoulders inner monologue and left the house at 10:44pm.
Back in 1992 a girl I sorta, kinda dated told me about a band called The Brian Jonestown Massacre who lived near her in The Haight. She was a photographer of genuine talent and showed me pics she'd taken of them. Fast forward 12 years and I have no idea what happened to that girl... but here I was leaving the warmth and safety of my home in the middle of the night to go see that same band.
As fate would have it, I finally saw the documentary Dig! the night before this gig. In my opinion, it's everything that Some Kind Of Monster wasn't.. Yeah, it depicts drug addict, unstable musicians. Yeah, it depicts egotistical, dysfunctional musicians. Yeah, but it also depicts two bands whose music I really dig (pun intended)... But ultimately the film is about "the music" and the eternal battle of Creativity vs. The Biz.. AND there are no millionaire Rock Stars whining about their lot in life while selling their Basquiat collections at Christie's.
The last time I saw BJM was 6 months ago and it was a MESS. Anton was out of it, the band was out of it, and they barely made it through songs. After 40 minutes I was already on my way back home after Anton jumped off the stage to fight a guy in the crowd.Since that night, Dig! was released and it's received alot of attention. I'm sure folks are checking out BJM simply to see if Anton will lose it onstage like he does in the film. I'm sure folks are checking out BJM to badger Anton so he will lose it onstage like he does in the film. Sad that those expectations aren't based on the band's music, because I think Anton's songwriting and talent are fuckin' brilliant.
True to this line of thought, the Bottom of the Hill was packed. The show 6 months ago was rather empty. Waiting for BJM to get onstage I hoped they would come out and just kick ass.. I sensed that quite a few audience members had seen the documentary and were mainly there to see "that insane guy" Anton. I wanted Anton and BJM to let the music do the talking.
'Round 11:30pm BJM were onstage and blasted through 3 or 4 songs without Anton saying one word to the crowd. My brain was spinning. By 1:20am I was back out on the rainy streets of S.F. sort of dazed and reunited with the Jetta. On the way back to the car, some pimply-faced teenagers called me a fag. BJM had played one of the best sets I'd seen all year.
They were all business for at least the first hour, then the alcohol started kicking in... but Anton and the band didn't fall apart like they might have in the past. Yeah, there were a couple of moments where you felt the crowd tense as Anton ranted about something or at someone... but he and the band held it together. After a tense (but ultimately funny) encounter with a heckler, Anton stepped to the mic and the band slammed into a roaring version of 'Going To Hell'. All I could say to myself was "Goddam, I'm glad I left the house tonight..."
"You live in a dream, and it's not going well.. Superman cannot save you 'cause you're going to Hell."
Hmmm... As I was typing this I had Hüsker Dü's 'Candy Apple Grey' album playing (on vinyl!)... I haven't listened to it in a LONG time. It still holds up.
Here's something for The Kidz: The other day on NPR, Terry Gross mentioned that U.S. Military Intelligence plays Metallica, Sesame Street, and Barney music to Iraqi prisoners to soften them up for interrogation.
Geek out.
Sunday, November 07, 2004
Random Rock Star Moment #13: Eddie Van Halen
Note: This Random Rock Star Moment was told to Umlaut by a friend of this person, who we'll call "Jamie".
Jamie works at one of the major airports in the S.F. Bay Area as part of the ground staff. Earlier this year after guiding a private jet to the gate she was approached by a guy who had been on the plane. The guy said that his boss had seen her on the tarmac and wanted to meet her. She asked who his boss was and the guy answered "Eddie Van Halen".
Jamie was, like, "Whatever!" and told the guy she wasn't single and not interested. The guy went back onto the plane.
A couple of minutes later Eddie Van Halen walked off the plane. He handed her a note and said something like "If you're ever single again, call me".. Then the former Guitar God made his way to the terminal.
"Oh, whoa, whoa, Jamie's cryin'..."
The End.
Eddie circa 1978... When he ruled The School.
Jamie works at one of the major airports in the S.F. Bay Area as part of the ground staff. Earlier this year after guiding a private jet to the gate she was approached by a guy who had been on the plane. The guy said that his boss had seen her on the tarmac and wanted to meet her. She asked who his boss was and the guy answered "Eddie Van Halen".
Jamie was, like, "Whatever!" and told the guy she wasn't single and not interested. The guy went back onto the plane.
A couple of minutes later Eddie Van Halen walked off the plane. He handed her a note and said something like "If you're ever single again, call me".. Then the former Guitar God made his way to the terminal.
"Oh, whoa, whoa, Jamie's cryin'..."
The End.
Eddie circa 1978... When he ruled The School.
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
Obligatory Election 2004 Epilogue
"When there's no more room in Hell, the dead will walk the Earth."
I'm proud to say that Haggis Buffet / Umlaut stayed above the fray and only reported what Satan told us to:
Bloggers Said to Blame for Bad Poll Info
We now return to regular Umlaut programming.
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Submitted by Heather:
The Cramps
The Warfield, S.F.
Halloween 2004
The Cramps were cool as always. Lux is so HOT! I'm so in love with him. Ivy was gorgeous also.
I had an extra ticket with me and there was this (authentic!) tough punk chick that somehow got into that section and was in our seats. They tried to get her to leave and she wasn't gonna go down without a fight. When the bouncers came thay said "Lemme see your ticket!" and so I gave her the extra ticket. It was meant to be.
I had a bad cold and I put my back out sneezing and had to walk with a cane!
The unfortunate part was that the sound person fucked up the sound SO BAD that it was intolerable and people were leaving! I left early also and on the way out, I poked the sound person in the back with my cane to get her attention and I told her it sounded AWFUL and she flipped me off. I in turn, flipped HER off then went to find some management. They told me it was the BAND'S soundperson, and there was nothing they could do and that I should call The Guardian.
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ADDENDUM - Nov. 4, 2004
After a couple of days to reflect upon Election 2004, Umlaut felt it was time to make a change. So, I ditched the venerable circa 1992 7" single cardboard storage box:
For a sleek 21st Century corrugated plastic 7" single storage box that is chaste of any political affiliation:
As Bono once (sort of) said before he became UN Ambassador to Narcissus: "It's a box drained of all colors.." This 7" single storage box is not a rebel 7" single storage box.
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EPILOGUE TO THE EPILOGUE - Nov. 5, 2004
I suppose as a Lefty Liberal this week was a reality check. I guess God might not be a bargain bin act after all. Who woulda thunk?! He's been repackaged and rereleased with bonus tracks!
I suppose you could say I regained my perspective on life today... and I did so via an unplanned 3-point method:
POINT 1: It began with a leave-work-early screening of The Incredibles. Straight up: I LOVED IT.. which the Cheesehead Duo can attest to. It truly emasculated the silly new Star Wars trailer that proceeded it. Too bad their licensing doesn't include very cool action figures..
POINT 2: My journey then shifted to S.F.'s lovely Tenderloin and the Golden Era Restaurant. An incredibly great meal followed... Which included fine conversation and the sharing of Lock 'N Loll war stories and gossip with Merch Guy, Kamehameha, and Diamond Head ("The teacher?! Really?!") . An all around meal most excellent. A nice cherry on top was seeing the same guy I saw at Dio last week who was wearing the same denim vest with the large Slayer - Hell Awaits patch on the back. In Nomine Satanic Vegetarians! "Angels fighting aimlessly.. Still dying by the sword.." SLAYER... Now more than ever.
POINT 3: Then it was across town for the obligatory Rock Show:
DRUNK HORSE / ACID KING
12 Galaxies, S.F.
Two of S.F.'s finest kickin' it live in my old 'hood.. Acid King threw up a wall of sound unequaled by any band who are like family to me. So many beers and burritos have been killed in the bloody juggernaut I've cut with them over the years... Drunk Horse are Southern Rock without the Confederate inbreeding.. They're like the South back when the South voted Democrat (obligatory Election 2004 analogy). Earlier I said how this week had seen God rereleased and remastered... But so has Acid King, with their classic Busse Woods CD rechromed and detailed. Nice. Beer count = 2. On the way back to the car, some pimply-faced teenage crack whores called me a fag. My trusty companion, the iPod, once again proved that it's my soulmate by randomly playing Black Sabbath / Dio's 'Heaven & Hell' once the Jetta was fired up... The lyrics were quite apt as the theme song for this week:
"They say that life's a carousel, spinning fast you've got to ride it well.
The world is full of Kings and Queens, who blind your eyes and steal your dreams.. It's Heaven and Hell..."
"They'll tell you black is really white, the moon is just the sun at night.. And when you walk in Golden Halls you get to keep the gold that falls.. It's Heaven and Hell.."
Today was also my mommy's birthday. Yes, I called her. She told me she loved me.
Peace out.
"You've got to bleed for the Dancer.."
Sunday, October 31, 2004
It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
Umlaut celebrated All Hallow's Eve at The Amazing Monster House:
Umlaut with The Host.....
"Bonfires burning bright,
Pumpkin faces in the night,
I remember Halloween."
- The Misfits
Thanks to dear Umlaut friends M. & S. for hosting another great Halloween! It's not often you see small children terrified to approach a house because they think it will eat them... Excellent.
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Halloween 2004 Epilogue
The old lady who lived across the street from us died at around 8:00pm on Halloween night. She passed in her sleep while her live-in caretaker handed out candy to kids.
She was 98 years old and the quintessential scary neighborhood old lady. Whenever someone parked in front of her house she would come out and yell at them. When she talked I could hear her clearly from across the street since she always talked in an extremely loud, high pitched voice. The guy who lived next door to her said she didn't want him touching the fence in between their houses. If she saw him touching or working near the fence she'd yell at him. She used to wander up and down the street, stopping to stare at people or houses. Sometimes I'd see her gazing ghost-like out of her front window.
Soon after we moved into the house I was in the front yard mowing the lawn or something. I had my back to the street and kept hearing this scraping sound. I didn't pay attention to it since I was preoccupied, but the sound continued for awhile and then stopped.
I turned around and almost had a heart attack because the old lady was standing right behind me. She held a shovel in one hand...
The lady stood under 5 feet tall and talked VERY loudly to me. She began a rambling monologue that careened from yard work, to her dead dog, to some past event in the neighborhood, to her dead son. I noticed she was missing a thumb on one of her hands.
Our "conversation" lasted several minutes and I couldn't figure out if she was welcoming me to the neighborhood or asking me to dig a hole for her with the shovel. Whatever the case, she turned around and made her way back across the street, dragging the shovel behind her... The sound of the metal on asphalt echoed in her wake.
I hope she rests in peace.
Umlaut with The Host....."Bonfires burning bright,
Pumpkin faces in the night,
I remember Halloween."
- The Misfits
Thanks to dear Umlaut friends M. & S. for hosting another great Halloween! It's not often you see small children terrified to approach a house because they think it will eat them... Excellent.
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Halloween 2004 Epilogue
The old lady who lived across the street from us died at around 8:00pm on Halloween night. She passed in her sleep while her live-in caretaker handed out candy to kids.
She was 98 years old and the quintessential scary neighborhood old lady. Whenever someone parked in front of her house she would come out and yell at them. When she talked I could hear her clearly from across the street since she always talked in an extremely loud, high pitched voice. The guy who lived next door to her said she didn't want him touching the fence in between their houses. If she saw him touching or working near the fence she'd yell at him. She used to wander up and down the street, stopping to stare at people or houses. Sometimes I'd see her gazing ghost-like out of her front window.
Soon after we moved into the house I was in the front yard mowing the lawn or something. I had my back to the street and kept hearing this scraping sound. I didn't pay attention to it since I was preoccupied, but the sound continued for awhile and then stopped.
I turned around and almost had a heart attack because the old lady was standing right behind me. She held a shovel in one hand...
The lady stood under 5 feet tall and talked VERY loudly to me. She began a rambling monologue that careened from yard work, to her dead dog, to some past event in the neighborhood, to her dead son. I noticed she was missing a thumb on one of her hands.
Our "conversation" lasted several minutes and I couldn't figure out if she was welcoming me to the neighborhood or asking me to dig a hole for her with the shovel. Whatever the case, she turned around and made her way back across the street, dragging the shovel behind her... The sound of the metal on asphalt echoed in her wake.
I hope she rests in peace.
Saturday, October 30, 2004
Battle of the Indie Bands
Rocktober came in like a lion and went out like a muthafucker.. Ending with a bitch slappin', good 'ol fashioned Battle of the Indie Bands:
Interpol / Secret Machines
The Warfield, San Francisco
October 25, 2004
"You are the only person who's completely certain there's nothing here to be into.."
Show's indie cred = 50% since Secret Machines are on a major. I had a flashback to seeing a Jesus & Mary Chain / Spiritualized / Curve show (The Warfield, S.F. 1992). Both bands put up a nice wall of sound, but had all the showmanship of a box of kleenex.. but that doesn't mean I didn't dig 'em. The good indie bands can always walk-the-walk and deliver onstage. The youngster sitting next to Timo was seeing Interpol for the 6th time. Impressive, but I wish I'd quizzed her on the band members' names 'cause I can't name any of 'em. On the way back to the car some pimply-faced teenagers called us fags. There was far less chain smoking onstage than at Interpol's 2003 S.F. show.
Dio / Anthrax
The Grand, San Francisco
Oct. 29, 2004
"We're off to The Witch, we may never never never come home, but the magic that we feel will last a lifetime..."
Show's indie cred = 100% since both bands are on an indie. I had a flashback to seeing the very first, world debut Dio show ever (The Concert Barn, Antioch, CA 1983). The good Metal bands always walk-the-walk and deliver onstage. I was seeing Dio for the 7th time since 1980 (Sabbath & Dio incarnations)... Following Old Metal can be like following Pro Sports since after awhile members start revolving in and out of other "teams".. With that in mind, this will bring the Rocktober Percentage Theme to a close: 2/5 of Anthrax used to be in Armored Saint. 1/5 of Dio used to be in Quiet Riot and Ozzy's band.. and another 1/5 of Dio used to be in AC/DC. On the way back to the car some pimply-faced Hispanic teenaged transvestite prostitutes called us fags. When was the last time YOU saw a drum solo that included the drummer pounding along to Tchaikovsky's '1812 Overture'??
The Winner: Now, I could easily win points with the kidz out there by saying Interpol won this Battle of the Indie Bands...However, straight up, Interpol will never write a song lyric as profoundly esoteric as Dio's "Love can be seen as the answer, but nobody bleeds for the dancer..."
Interpol has fashion sense. Dio has MAGIC.
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ADDENDUM:
Reported on Blabbermouth and another reason why Lord of the Rings is better than Star Wars:
'Lord Of The Rings' Star Attends DIO / ANTHRAX Show In L.A.: Photos Available - Nov. 2, 2004
"Lord of the Rings" star Elijah Wood was among the attendees at the DIO / ANTHRAX show at the Greek Theater in Los Angeles, CA on Saturday (Oct. 30). Check out pictures from Launch.
Interpol / Secret Machines
The Warfield, San Francisco
October 25, 2004
"You are the only person who's completely certain there's nothing here to be into.."
Show's indie cred = 50% since Secret Machines are on a major. I had a flashback to seeing a Jesus & Mary Chain / Spiritualized / Curve show (The Warfield, S.F. 1992). Both bands put up a nice wall of sound, but had all the showmanship of a box of kleenex.. but that doesn't mean I didn't dig 'em. The good indie bands can always walk-the-walk and deliver onstage. The youngster sitting next to Timo was seeing Interpol for the 6th time. Impressive, but I wish I'd quizzed her on the band members' names 'cause I can't name any of 'em. On the way back to the car some pimply-faced teenagers called us fags. There was far less chain smoking onstage than at Interpol's 2003 S.F. show.
Dio / AnthraxThe Grand, San Francisco
Oct. 29, 2004
"We're off to The Witch, we may never never never come home, but the magic that we feel will last a lifetime..."
Show's indie cred = 100% since both bands are on an indie. I had a flashback to seeing the very first, world debut Dio show ever (The Concert Barn, Antioch, CA 1983). The good Metal bands always walk-the-walk and deliver onstage. I was seeing Dio for the 7th time since 1980 (Sabbath & Dio incarnations)... Following Old Metal can be like following Pro Sports since after awhile members start revolving in and out of other "teams".. With that in mind, this will bring the Rocktober Percentage Theme to a close: 2/5 of Anthrax used to be in Armored Saint. 1/5 of Dio used to be in Quiet Riot and Ozzy's band.. and another 1/5 of Dio used to be in AC/DC. On the way back to the car some pimply-faced Hispanic teenaged transvestite prostitutes called us fags. When was the last time YOU saw a drum solo that included the drummer pounding along to Tchaikovsky's '1812 Overture'??
The Winner: Now, I could easily win points with the kidz out there by saying Interpol won this Battle of the Indie Bands...However, straight up, Interpol will never write a song lyric as profoundly esoteric as Dio's "Love can be seen as the answer, but nobody bleeds for the dancer..."
Interpol has fashion sense. Dio has MAGIC.
-----
ADDENDUM:
Reported on Blabbermouth and another reason why Lord of the Rings is better than Star Wars:
'Lord Of The Rings' Star Attends DIO / ANTHRAX Show In L.A.: Photos Available - Nov. 2, 2004
"Lord of the Rings" star Elijah Wood was among the attendees at the DIO / ANTHRAX show at the Greek Theater in Los Angeles, CA on Saturday (Oct. 30). Check out pictures from Launch.
Friday, October 29, 2004
Umlaut's Obligatory Election 2004 Post
An honest to dog exchange I had with a co-worker this week:
Co-Worker: "Wasn't Kennedy shot in Dallas?"
Me: "No, he was shot in the head..."
My co-worker kinda didn't laugh.
Ooops.
"Kennedy’s shattered head hits concrete.. Ride, Johnny ride.."
- From 'Bullet' by The Misfits
I'm going to Hell, aren't I?
Co-Worker: "Wasn't Kennedy shot in Dallas?"
Me: "No, he was shot in the head..."
My co-worker kinda didn't laugh.
Ooops.
"Kennedy’s shattered head hits concrete.. Ride, Johnny ride.."
- From 'Bullet' by The Misfits
I'm going to Hell, aren't I?
Saturday, October 23, 2004
PJ Harvey Revisited
PJ Harvey
The Catalyst, Santa Cruz, CA
August 20, 2004
Twelve years ago:
Time flies when you're growing up.. This was the first time since 1992 that PJ has done a club tour in these parts. Pretty amazing to this music geek. Kurt and Courtney were at that Slim's show... No Grunge stars were in the house at The Catalyst..At least none that I saw... Although one or two homeless guys out on Pacific Ave. could have been Tad.
I'm sorry... I'm sorry... Can we stop the tape? Thanks.... Now, this is strictly off the record.. To be honest, I can't write a smart ass Umlautian PJ review. Twelve years of borderline obsessive fandom has left me with no perspective to crack wise about her. However, I do adore how she plays guitars that appear to be the same size as her (Gretsch, Gibson Firebird, etc).
Twelve years ago I was almost exclusively a Red Hook drinker. Recently I've been getting PBR at shows. Twelve years ago I drove a Ford. Now I drive a Volkswagen. Have I sold out?
Beer count = 2. Folks were paying up to $120 each on Ebay for tickets to these club gigs. On the way back to the car some pimply faced teenagers called us fags.... and once back at the car there was a $20 parking ticket on the windshield. The Man Sucks.. especially when he's wearing patchouli. Valley go home? Gladly, dude.
"Put money in your idle hole..."
PJ Harvey
The Warfield, San Francisco
Oct. 21 & 22, 2004
"Talking about time travel, and the meaning of just what it was worth..."
The borderline obsession continues... A trinity of PJH in one year is manna to this geek. And two shows during the week of my birthday were better than the Batman toys I got when I turned 5. Night #1: In between bands I watched 2 nerdy guys down on the floor dance, bop, and air guitar along to The Police songs playing over the PA. They were only missing leg warmers and Rubik's Cubes to make their time warp complete. This is how big of a geek I am: Exiting The Warfield I recognized the smell of the paper / ink of the BGP souvenir posters being given out before I even saw them. Who are you calling a loser?! Me?? We'll fuck you! On the way back to the car some pimply-faced teenagers called me a fag. Night #1: Jetta out on the streets of S.F. by 11:17pm... In the door by 11:39pm.
Night #2 was epic... Really. Goddam. The type of set that reminded me why I got into this business in the first place. This is how big of a geek I am: Night #2 during 'Evol' I thought to myself 'Victory' would sound really great following this song... Then PJ and band, as if we're, like, connected or something with each others' minds, man.. like, we're like, ONE or something, do exactly that. "Come on boys let's push it hard..." Who are you calling a loser?! Me?? We'll fuck you! I'm sure the off the shoulder hot pink "San Francisco" shirt that PJ wore gave the S.F. Visitors Bureau wood. On the way back to the car some pimply-faced teenagers called us fags. Night #2: Jetta on the streets of S.F. by 11:10pm... In the door by 11:22pm. No shit.
You gotta appreciate PJH's own music geekdom, since both shows were opened by former members of her all-time favorite band Captain Beefheart. The Geeks shall inherit the Earth.
"I've lain with The Devil, cursed God above, forsaken Heaven, to bring you my love..."
Thanks to The Sheriff for The Good Fortune.
P.S. In case you don't know, PJH can also be found on this recent Umlaut favorite:
Mark Lanegan Band - Bubblegum
The Catalyst, Santa Cruz, CA
August 20, 2004
Twelve years ago:
Time flies when you're growing up.. This was the first time since 1992 that PJ has done a club tour in these parts. Pretty amazing to this music geek. Kurt and Courtney were at that Slim's show... No Grunge stars were in the house at The Catalyst..At least none that I saw... Although one or two homeless guys out on Pacific Ave. could have been Tad.
I'm sorry... I'm sorry... Can we stop the tape? Thanks.... Now, this is strictly off the record.. To be honest, I can't write a smart ass Umlautian PJ review. Twelve years of borderline obsessive fandom has left me with no perspective to crack wise about her. However, I do adore how she plays guitars that appear to be the same size as her (Gretsch, Gibson Firebird, etc).
Twelve years ago I was almost exclusively a Red Hook drinker. Recently I've been getting PBR at shows. Twelve years ago I drove a Ford. Now I drive a Volkswagen. Have I sold out?
Beer count = 2. Folks were paying up to $120 each on Ebay for tickets to these club gigs. On the way back to the car some pimply faced teenagers called us fags.... and once back at the car there was a $20 parking ticket on the windshield. The Man Sucks.. especially when he's wearing patchouli. Valley go home? Gladly, dude.
"Put money in your idle hole..."
PJ Harvey
The Warfield, San Francisco
Oct. 21 & 22, 2004
"Talking about time travel, and the meaning of just what it was worth..."
The borderline obsession continues... A trinity of PJH in one year is manna to this geek. And two shows during the week of my birthday were better than the Batman toys I got when I turned 5. Night #1: In between bands I watched 2 nerdy guys down on the floor dance, bop, and air guitar along to The Police songs playing over the PA. They were only missing leg warmers and Rubik's Cubes to make their time warp complete. This is how big of a geek I am: Exiting The Warfield I recognized the smell of the paper / ink of the BGP souvenir posters being given out before I even saw them. Who are you calling a loser?! Me?? We'll fuck you! On the way back to the car some pimply-faced teenagers called me a fag. Night #1: Jetta out on the streets of S.F. by 11:17pm... In the door by 11:39pm.
Night #2 was epic... Really. Goddam. The type of set that reminded me why I got into this business in the first place. This is how big of a geek I am: Night #2 during 'Evol' I thought to myself 'Victory' would sound really great following this song... Then PJ and band, as if we're, like, connected or something with each others' minds, man.. like, we're like, ONE or something, do exactly that. "Come on boys let's push it hard..." Who are you calling a loser?! Me?? We'll fuck you! I'm sure the off the shoulder hot pink "San Francisco" shirt that PJ wore gave the S.F. Visitors Bureau wood. On the way back to the car some pimply-faced teenagers called us fags. Night #2: Jetta on the streets of S.F. by 11:10pm... In the door by 11:22pm. No shit.
You gotta appreciate PJH's own music geekdom, since both shows were opened by former members of her all-time favorite band Captain Beefheart. The Geeks shall inherit the Earth.
"I've lain with The Devil, cursed God above, forsaken Heaven, to bring you my love..."
Thanks to The Sheriff for The Good Fortune.
P.S. In case you don't know, PJH can also be found on this recent Umlaut favorite:
Mark Lanegan Band - Bubblegum
Friday, October 22, 2004
It Was 20 Years Ago Today That Satan Taught The Band To Play
Submitted by Doug
October 21, 1984 - October 21, 2004:
Twenty years ago tomorrow, Slayer played their first show outside of California on their first full continental U.S. Tour, at Wellington's in Winnipeg, Canada with Sinister Witch. The first of 3 nights. Verbal Abuse opened the 3rd show. There were protesters outside and a drunk guy in brown cords who danced.
I guess 20 years ago today would be when we spun out on the black ice in Montana. Kerry was driving and 'A Lesson In Violence' from the first Exodus album had just started in the cassette player of Tom's Camaro.
I guess we're all a bunch of old men now.
Slayer
Doug and Umlaut have been friends since before the dawn of Christianity. He roams the Earth enabling Rock Stars to be Rock Stars. Umlaut lives vicariously through his Lock 'N Loll lifestyle and wants to write Doug's memoirs.
Turn the page, my brutha. Keep it real out there... for THE KIDZ!
October 21, 1984 - October 21, 2004:
Twenty years ago tomorrow, Slayer played their first show outside of California on their first full continental U.S. Tour, at Wellington's in Winnipeg, Canada with Sinister Witch. The first of 3 nights. Verbal Abuse opened the 3rd show. There were protesters outside and a drunk guy in brown cords who danced.
I guess 20 years ago today would be when we spun out on the black ice in Montana. Kerry was driving and 'A Lesson In Violence' from the first Exodus album had just started in the cassette player of Tom's Camaro.
I guess we're all a bunch of old men now.
SlayerWolfgang's, San Francisco - January 30, 1984
(Pic by Umlaut)
(Pic by Umlaut)
Doug and Umlaut have been friends since before the dawn of Christianity. He roams the Earth enabling Rock Stars to be Rock Stars. Umlaut lives vicariously through his Lock 'N Loll lifestyle and wants to write Doug's memoirs.
Turn the page, my brutha. Keep it real out there... for THE KIDZ!
Monday, October 18, 2004
Thoughts Upon Turning Thirty
Written in October 1993.
This piece originally appeared in Umlaut #9 (January 1994)
"My uniform is leather, and my power is my age."
from 'Flaming Youth' by KISS
On the Friday before my 30th birthday I wandered into a neighborhood thrift store. I have no idea why I decided to stop there. For some reason I just had to go there. Of course, I eventually ended up at the record bins. As I rifled through the bins nothing really caught my eye, but I was at peace with myself and with life. Then destiny hit me like a freight train.
Longtime readers know that 70's era KISS is a beloved icon of my childhood. After seemingly endless Herb Albert and Barbara Streisand albums, I stumbled across some old KISS albums. Not just some old KISS albums, but all of the old KISS albums. And not just all of the old KISS albums, but the original issues of the albums, with all of the inserts (decals, posters, booklets, etc.) intact, including the merchandise mail order forms! All in mint condition. The covers clean, the records shiny.
I was a kid again.
Eighteen years ago, I begged my parents to buy me a KISS album for my 12th birthday. The album they bought me was something called The Originals. This was a limited edition set of KISS' first three albums that came in a folder and included a historical booklet, trading cards, and a giant KISS Army decal. Needless to say I eventually destroyed my copy, playing the albums to death and wearing out the goodies. It wasn't until years later, long after my copy had disappeared, that I discovered how valuable the set was to collectors. As the big 3-0 neared, I did a lot of thinking about my childhood. I began searching record collecting magazines for a copy of The Originals in a desperate attempt to obtain a totemistic symbol of my lost youth.
Every copy advertised was selling for at least $50 (a recent price guide listed its value at $85). Now, 18 years after I first held it in my rock hungry hands, I kneeled in a thrift store in San Francisco and a copy of The Originals stared back at me. Not just a copy, but one in mint condition will all of the records and inserts intact and clean! The price tag on it read "$4.95". I almost fainted. I quickly snapped up the other KISS artifacts and made my way to the register. The entire haul cost me $20.
I had managed to reclaim part of my childhood.
That was three days before my 30th birthday. My birthday fell on a Monday, and as I prepared for the obligatory party I tuned into Monday Night Football: the Raiders vs. some other team. This season, different lamestream musical acts have appeared in the opening credits, like Whitney Houston, etc.. However, who should be appearing in the opening credits on this, my 30th birthday, but..... KISS!!! I KID YOU NOT! A chorus of angels descended from heaven, birds broke into song, and I almost wet my pants.
Needless to say, my 30th birthday, spent with beloved friends, was one of the best ones I've ever had.
----- -----
ADDENDUM:
In 1996 KISS shocked the Rock World by reuniting the original lineup of Gene, Paul, Ace, and Peter in full makeup for the first time in 17 years. Old School KISS geeks like myself were beyond ecstatic. It was such a major event that I jetted down to New Orleans to see one of the first reunion shows. This is an edited version of my reaction to that show (originally posted on the old Umlaut web site):
KISS - Louisiana Superdome, New Orleans - July 9th, 1996
Backstage Pass from the Superdome show
(From the Umlaut Archives)
Rock road trips are the best. My old lady and I hopped on a jet and flew out to The Big Easy for some good eatin' and some good rockin'. On the cab ride to the show, the middle aged white cab driver asked us what was going on at the Superdome. When we told him KISS, he got disgusted and said "Oh, one of those bands with a gimmick" and proceeded to tell us how he once took his daughter to see Ratt and how he walked out of the arena and waited for her in the car. He also made a point of telling us how his daughter is now a school teacher, listens to "the oldies station", and now hates rock music. The guy then lectured us further with "Ya know who has talent? Do you know? Boys II Men! Now they've got talent! They don't need no gimmicks!" Mercifully, our cab ride ends before he can elaborate upon the virtues of Boys II Men any further.
The Superdome is fuckin' huge (At one time it was considered one of the 7 Man-Made Wonders Of the World). Outside, thousands of people are milling around the entrances in the humid July heat waiting for the doors to open. I saw some good lookin' girls, and some of those girls wanted to get themselves KISS, into the ladies room! White trash rocker chicks rule!
In classic arena rock fashion, my name wasn't on the guest list at the Will Call window. In fact, the guest list wasn't there at all! The woman told me to check back in a little while, but having been stiffed before at arena shows when I was supposed to be on guest lists, my gut tightened of having been "forgotten" again. I began stressing over the fact that I'd traveled halfway across the country for nothing.
The wife and I wandered around for a half hour and watched the rock fans drool over the merchandise tables. Yes, they had several fully stocked merchandise tables set up outside of the arena and there was even a van with an ATM machine built into the side that had a satellite dish on top to communicate with banks! Corporate Rock Rules!!
Gritting my teeth, I once again got in the Will Call line to see if the guest list had arrived. Ahead of us, some dj's from the local rock radio station found themselves in the same predicament as us. Off to the side of the line stood the biggest geek I've ever seen at a rock concert; he was loaded down with two armfuls of KISS memorabilia (including an autographed gold record for Alive!). He looked like someone who could easily have been at a Star Trek convention. The only things he was missing was KISS makeup and Spock ears. He was trying to scam a backstage pass from people on the guest list.
I finally got up to the window again, handed over my ID, and lo and behold there were two tickets AND two all-access passes for me. As we walked past the geek he asked how many passes I had and I said "Two" and kept right on walking into the arena.
Unlike the fascist Bill Graham Presents concerts back home in San Francisco, there was no security pat down / frisking at the door. I could have taken in a picnic table and Uzi and the Superdome's staff probably wouldn't have cared. Once inside the lobby I quickly lost count of the number of people wearing KISS makeup. The best ones were a guy wearing Gene makeup and full-on football shoulder pads with BMX shin guards and another person with Vinnie Vincent (1983 post-Ace replacement guitarist) Egyptian makeup - Whatta poser!
The Superdome is capable of holding 80,000+ people, but for the concert it was blocked off a 1/3 of the way, so there was probably around 30,000 rockers in the house. It was pretty damn impressive and, as outside, there were literally dozens of merchandise stands selling KISS shirts, programs, posters, and even a $650 leather jacket! Corporate Rock Rules!
We attempted to get backstage, but a couple of Superdome security types suspiciously denied us, eventhough we had passes and even asked one of them to escort us. All of the security personnel at the Superdome wore red blazers and resembled hotel desk clerks. At that moment, a guy wearing a radio headset and KISS laminate noticed our conversation and asked what the problem was - When we showed him the passes he offered to walk us back himself, but said the opening band was going onstage soon.. If we found him afterwards he'd be happy to escort us. What a nice guy - I shook his hand. Later, while looking thru a commemorative KISS Reunion Tour magazine I saw the guy's photo and found out he was a longtime friend of KISS and also a production manager for the tour.
We found our seats just in time to see two of those dj's who'd been stuck outside with us in the Will Call line doing some announcement from the stage - Obviously things worked out for them too. Once the opening band finished, the wife and I set out to get backstage to soak up some Rock Star action before KISS made their entrance.
Earlier in this piece I made fun of the Superdome's security by comparing it to the hardcore concert security I was used to in San Francisco. Well, after the experience I'm about to relate to you, I completely appreciate the professionalism and intelligence of the good people at Bill Graham Presents.
We returned to the area we'd tried to enter before, but the two security people now told us we couldn't get to the dressing rooms from there, and they vaguely pointed across the area and said something about a "black door". Denying us further details, we headed off in the general direction they pointed us in; there we encountered two more red-coated security people. They listened to our plea suspiciously, but pointed us to go around the corner to another door. There we encountered yet another red-coated pawn. She eyed us and our passes even more suspiciously and walked us over to two other red-coated "guards" who had a xeroxed guide of all of the backstage passes being issued by KISS. They looked at our passes and then consulted the guide. One of them read aloud "Unlimited access..." and then turned to the others and asked "Unlimited access... What does that mean?" America's public schools at work!
Gene's Guitar Pic (From the Umlaut Archives)
Unable to decide what "unlimited access" meant, they directed us back to the two security guards we'd originally talked to! Their short term memories must not last longer than 5 minutes, because they didn't seem to recognize us or our story so we had to repeat what we'd just told them a minute before. This time, one of them pulled out another xeroxed sheet. "It says here you should go to Locker Room #4" she read. DUH!! Why, hadn't they told us that before?! She pointed to a door that was directly across from her! Oh brother. So we walked over to the door and knocked... but no one answered. We knocked again. Nothing. We walked back across and told the guard no one was answering. As she was considering this, another guard came up, overheard what was said, and commented "You can't get into Locker Room #4 thru that door. You gotta go around.." Think Spinal Tap. Think "Hello Cleveland". This was getting fuckin' ridiculous.
SO, we go around the corner AGAIN, ask the same guards with the xeroxed guide where Locker Room #4 is and they point to ANOTHER door down the walkway. Off we go and almost get run into by ANOTHER guard coming through the door from the other direction. We go through the door and find ourselves in a hallway. A few feet away a guy sits on a folding chair in front of a door with a "4" painted on it - Bingo! The guy looks like a roadie/rocker type and he must have recognized us as "belonging there" since I was wearing a Ted Nugent shirt AND we both had passes pasted on our torsos, so he opened the door for us without a word. On the other side was a huge room with a long table piled high with food and drink. Corporate Rock Rules!
So we hung out for awhile, eating free food and drinking free drinks. As we were about to depart to go back to our seats, some guy from Nine Inch Nails (not Mr. Reznor) was ushered into the room. He kept looking at me (perhaps jealous of my Ted Nugent shirt) so I introduced myself and the wife to him. Then we split to find our seats in time to see the return of KISS!
However, the Superdome "guards" once again added hijinx to our evening by telling us we couldn't go back up into the stands to our assigned seats! To clarify the situation, the more expensive seats were located on the floor closer to the stage while our seats were up in the stands behind the floor, further away from the stage. So basically what the guards were telling us was we "had" to stay down in the expensive seats! Duh, okay! We found an entire row of empty seats only around 20 rows back from the stage. Sitting behind us was a guy from Nine Inch Nails (not Mr. Reznor) and also the guitarists from White Zombie and Pantera - Rock Stars!
There were alot of drunks around us, primed and ticking to ROCK. The stage was hidden behind a huge black curtain that had "KISS" emblazoned on it in gray lettering. As the house lights went down, a Led Zeppelin song blared from the PA, the crowd roared, and I was 12-years old again! My excitement level had been building all week and now I was just about to explode.
Suddenly, a voice boomed out over the PA "New Orleans!! You wanted the best, and you got it! The hottest band in the world.. KISS!!!" The stage lit up, the curtain fell and the opening chords of 'Deuce' blasted from the stage... and there they were!! Ace, Peter, Gene, and Paul in all their make up glory! I was a bit stunned. They looked exactly how I remembered. Near the end of the song Ace, Gene, and Paul did their patented choreography at the front of the stage and the crowd went even more bonkers. As the song ended, the feedback intro to 'King Of The Night Time World' kicked things further into high gear, but as that song, and the evening, progressed it was obvious that while this looked like the KISS of old something was definitely amiss.
First of all, Paul had to point several times to spots on the stage to show Ace wear to stand! Also, some of Ace's solos were a beat behind the rest of the band; the Spaceman was definitely on another planet. Although the set list was all old songs, some of them were slower than they should have been. Ace's solo was the worst and reminded me of a 19-year old hamming it up on the sales floor at Guitar Center. He DID shoot rockets from one guitar though, but his smoking guitar didn't work and it looked rather pathetic as it levitated up to the rafters without smoke pouring from it (a very Spinal Tap moment).
As for the other members, Gene did around a million groin thrusts PLUS after spitting blood he FLEW up to the lighting rig, where a mic was, and sang the first part of 'God Of Thunder' from up there! That was THE best part of the show for me - AMAZING!
Paul was rather goofy playing up the 'ol Sex God role - strutting, shaking his butt, and doing the legendary jingle boot dance. His best quote came while he tried to get a girl in the front row to show her tits to the video camera when he said "Show me where the milk comes from.." That's an actual quote! It worked though, and the girl lifted her shirt for the camera, but she was wearing a bra! Boo!! NOT very rock of her. Another goofy Paul quote was the intro to 'Love Gun': "This one's about my gun... I ain't talkin' 'bout no .38... And I ain't talkin' 'bout no .45..." Peter seemed to be the one who was truly having the time of his life onstage, which was cool.
However, the ultimate cheese came when Peter sang 'Beth' to a prerecorded backing track (just like in the old days) proceeded by him hurriedly tossing roses to the crowd. Of course, the arena rock crowd lit the place up with their lighters which caused Peter to comment "That's really beautiful! It looks like Heaven!"
While the band was definitely older, it was still cool to see them back in the saddle, and it was classic KISS, with TONS of pyro going off after every other song, flame throwers, confetti storms, Gene doing the fire breathing thing at the end of 'Firehouse', Paul smashing a guitar, and the whole band going out over the crowd on cherry pickers as Peter's drum riser rose to the rafters at the end of 'Black Diamond'. Pretty fuckin' cool. Low points: Ace's solo and him singing 'New York Groove'. High points: 'Black Diamond' and '100,000 Years'.
Also, during 'Rock & Roll All Nite' it was like KISS karaoke as the chorus was flashed onto the video screens, superimposed over images of the crowd. I thought this was way cheesy until I turned around and saw thousands of people behind me clapping and rocking out! It was one of the coolest sights I've ever seen at a concert. In fact, they were rocking out a bit too much, since a guy behind my wife reached over and shook her once or twice and yelled "Clap your hands!!! Rock!!!" Unfortunately, I didn't see this or I might have had to belt him for touching my woman.
After KISS left the stage we were escorted backstage, had another drink, and then the wife and I headed out into the muggy and hot New Orleans night to get a cab to take us back to where we were staying. Outside, the rock brigades were still milling around, abuzz from the rock show they'd just witnessed. We walked past two guys arguing over a KISS guitar pic. On the way back to the car, some pimply faced teenagers called us fags. Ironically, our cab ride that night was as entertaining as the one we had on the way to the show.... 11:30pm... A Nigerian cab driver who didn't know where the fuck he was going (we had to read a map and give him directions) and who was not happy that he was driving us to the other side of town. He also lectured us about how cabbies in New Orleans usually don't pick people up after concerts or sporting events... I didn't particularly care about his gripes though, because my head was still ringing from The Hottest Band In The World...
The End.
----- -----
EPILOGUE:
Fast forward to 2004 and KISS are STILL on the road.. However, the childhood glee I had for the band in 1993 is long dead and gone. Why? KISS destroyed any and all nostalgia I had for them. How? By not going away!! By not slipping quietly into the night!! By not bowing out with dignity!! They announced, hyped, hyped, hyped, and performed a "Farewell Tour" in 2000-2002... Only to return a year later for ANOTHER tour! Uh, Webster's defines "farewell" as "a formal occasion honoring a person about to leave or retire". Me thinks KISS don't read Webster's... They've turned into a zombie that refuses to die.
KISS is now back down to 1/2 of its original lineup (Gene and Paul), but they continue to perform with replacement musicians wearing the old Ace and Peter makeup!! C'MON!! A fake Ace and Peter?!?!! Have you no shame?!! Of course, KISS has always been about making money (they were the Star Wars of rock bands in the 70's), but they've gotten so crass with their commercialism that they now have more in common with Celine Dion than with Rock & Roll. Thankfully, their 2004 Tour was one of the biggest flops of this year's concert season. Stick a fork in them. PLEASE.
A lot has changed since I knelt in that thrift store 11 years ago. I'm celebrating another birthday, but you'll no longer find any KISS CDs in my collection. I carted them down to the used record store a long time ago. I suppose you can "Rock & Roll All Night", but sometimes that isn't a good thing. I still have that copy of The Originals I rescued back in 1993, but it's no longer a totemistic reminder of my childhood. It's now a reminder that nostalgia can be mortal. Sometimes it just dies.
Maybe someday I'll tell you how my Star Wars nostalgia died. However, that death was painful... Tis a classic tale of "Be careful what you wish for".....
This piece originally appeared in Umlaut #9 (January 1994)
"My uniform is leather, and my power is my age."from 'Flaming Youth' by KISS
On the Friday before my 30th birthday I wandered into a neighborhood thrift store. I have no idea why I decided to stop there. For some reason I just had to go there. Of course, I eventually ended up at the record bins. As I rifled through the bins nothing really caught my eye, but I was at peace with myself and with life. Then destiny hit me like a freight train.
Longtime readers know that 70's era KISS is a beloved icon of my childhood. After seemingly endless Herb Albert and Barbara Streisand albums, I stumbled across some old KISS albums. Not just some old KISS albums, but all of the old KISS albums. And not just all of the old KISS albums, but the original issues of the albums, with all of the inserts (decals, posters, booklets, etc.) intact, including the merchandise mail order forms! All in mint condition. The covers clean, the records shiny.
I was a kid again.
Eighteen years ago, I begged my parents to buy me a KISS album for my 12th birthday. The album they bought me was something called The Originals. This was a limited edition set of KISS' first three albums that came in a folder and included a historical booklet, trading cards, and a giant KISS Army decal. Needless to say I eventually destroyed my copy, playing the albums to death and wearing out the goodies. It wasn't until years later, long after my copy had disappeared, that I discovered how valuable the set was to collectors. As the big 3-0 neared, I did a lot of thinking about my childhood. I began searching record collecting magazines for a copy of The Originals in a desperate attempt to obtain a totemistic symbol of my lost youth.
Every copy advertised was selling for at least $50 (a recent price guide listed its value at $85). Now, 18 years after I first held it in my rock hungry hands, I kneeled in a thrift store in San Francisco and a copy of The Originals stared back at me. Not just a copy, but one in mint condition will all of the records and inserts intact and clean! The price tag on it read "$4.95". I almost fainted. I quickly snapped up the other KISS artifacts and made my way to the register. The entire haul cost me $20.
I had managed to reclaim part of my childhood.
That was three days before my 30th birthday. My birthday fell on a Monday, and as I prepared for the obligatory party I tuned into Monday Night Football: the Raiders vs. some other team. This season, different lamestream musical acts have appeared in the opening credits, like Whitney Houston, etc.. However, who should be appearing in the opening credits on this, my 30th birthday, but..... KISS!!! I KID YOU NOT! A chorus of angels descended from heaven, birds broke into song, and I almost wet my pants.
Needless to say, my 30th birthday, spent with beloved friends, was one of the best ones I've ever had.
----- -----
ADDENDUM:
In 1996 KISS shocked the Rock World by reuniting the original lineup of Gene, Paul, Ace, and Peter in full makeup for the first time in 17 years. Old School KISS geeks like myself were beyond ecstatic. It was such a major event that I jetted down to New Orleans to see one of the first reunion shows. This is an edited version of my reaction to that show (originally posted on the old Umlaut web site):
KISS - Louisiana Superdome, New Orleans - July 9th, 1996
Backstage Pass from the Superdome show (From the Umlaut Archives)
Rock road trips are the best. My old lady and I hopped on a jet and flew out to The Big Easy for some good eatin' and some good rockin'. On the cab ride to the show, the middle aged white cab driver asked us what was going on at the Superdome. When we told him KISS, he got disgusted and said "Oh, one of those bands with a gimmick" and proceeded to tell us how he once took his daughter to see Ratt and how he walked out of the arena and waited for her in the car. He also made a point of telling us how his daughter is now a school teacher, listens to "the oldies station", and now hates rock music. The guy then lectured us further with "Ya know who has talent? Do you know? Boys II Men! Now they've got talent! They don't need no gimmicks!" Mercifully, our cab ride ends before he can elaborate upon the virtues of Boys II Men any further.
The Superdome is fuckin' huge (At one time it was considered one of the 7 Man-Made Wonders Of the World). Outside, thousands of people are milling around the entrances in the humid July heat waiting for the doors to open. I saw some good lookin' girls, and some of those girls wanted to get themselves KISS, into the ladies room! White trash rocker chicks rule!
In classic arena rock fashion, my name wasn't on the guest list at the Will Call window. In fact, the guest list wasn't there at all! The woman told me to check back in a little while, but having been stiffed before at arena shows when I was supposed to be on guest lists, my gut tightened of having been "forgotten" again. I began stressing over the fact that I'd traveled halfway across the country for nothing.
The wife and I wandered around for a half hour and watched the rock fans drool over the merchandise tables. Yes, they had several fully stocked merchandise tables set up outside of the arena and there was even a van with an ATM machine built into the side that had a satellite dish on top to communicate with banks! Corporate Rock Rules!!
Gritting my teeth, I once again got in the Will Call line to see if the guest list had arrived. Ahead of us, some dj's from the local rock radio station found themselves in the same predicament as us. Off to the side of the line stood the biggest geek I've ever seen at a rock concert; he was loaded down with two armfuls of KISS memorabilia (including an autographed gold record for Alive!). He looked like someone who could easily have been at a Star Trek convention. The only things he was missing was KISS makeup and Spock ears. He was trying to scam a backstage pass from people on the guest list.
I finally got up to the window again, handed over my ID, and lo and behold there were two tickets AND two all-access passes for me. As we walked past the geek he asked how many passes I had and I said "Two" and kept right on walking into the arena.
Unlike the fascist Bill Graham Presents concerts back home in San Francisco, there was no security pat down / frisking at the door. I could have taken in a picnic table and Uzi and the Superdome's staff probably wouldn't have cared. Once inside the lobby I quickly lost count of the number of people wearing KISS makeup. The best ones were a guy wearing Gene makeup and full-on football shoulder pads with BMX shin guards and another person with Vinnie Vincent (1983 post-Ace replacement guitarist) Egyptian makeup - Whatta poser!
The Superdome is capable of holding 80,000+ people, but for the concert it was blocked off a 1/3 of the way, so there was probably around 30,000 rockers in the house. It was pretty damn impressive and, as outside, there were literally dozens of merchandise stands selling KISS shirts, programs, posters, and even a $650 leather jacket! Corporate Rock Rules!
We attempted to get backstage, but a couple of Superdome security types suspiciously denied us, eventhough we had passes and even asked one of them to escort us. All of the security personnel at the Superdome wore red blazers and resembled hotel desk clerks. At that moment, a guy wearing a radio headset and KISS laminate noticed our conversation and asked what the problem was - When we showed him the passes he offered to walk us back himself, but said the opening band was going onstage soon.. If we found him afterwards he'd be happy to escort us. What a nice guy - I shook his hand. Later, while looking thru a commemorative KISS Reunion Tour magazine I saw the guy's photo and found out he was a longtime friend of KISS and also a production manager for the tour.
We found our seats just in time to see two of those dj's who'd been stuck outside with us in the Will Call line doing some announcement from the stage - Obviously things worked out for them too. Once the opening band finished, the wife and I set out to get backstage to soak up some Rock Star action before KISS made their entrance.
Earlier in this piece I made fun of the Superdome's security by comparing it to the hardcore concert security I was used to in San Francisco. Well, after the experience I'm about to relate to you, I completely appreciate the professionalism and intelligence of the good people at Bill Graham Presents.
We returned to the area we'd tried to enter before, but the two security people now told us we couldn't get to the dressing rooms from there, and they vaguely pointed across the area and said something about a "black door". Denying us further details, we headed off in the general direction they pointed us in; there we encountered two more red-coated security people. They listened to our plea suspiciously, but pointed us to go around the corner to another door. There we encountered yet another red-coated pawn. She eyed us and our passes even more suspiciously and walked us over to two other red-coated "guards" who had a xeroxed guide of all of the backstage passes being issued by KISS. They looked at our passes and then consulted the guide. One of them read aloud "Unlimited access..." and then turned to the others and asked "Unlimited access... What does that mean?" America's public schools at work!
Gene's Guitar Pic (From the Umlaut Archives)Unable to decide what "unlimited access" meant, they directed us back to the two security guards we'd originally talked to! Their short term memories must not last longer than 5 minutes, because they didn't seem to recognize us or our story so we had to repeat what we'd just told them a minute before. This time, one of them pulled out another xeroxed sheet. "It says here you should go to Locker Room #4" she read. DUH!! Why, hadn't they told us that before?! She pointed to a door that was directly across from her! Oh brother. So we walked over to the door and knocked... but no one answered. We knocked again. Nothing. We walked back across and told the guard no one was answering. As she was considering this, another guard came up, overheard what was said, and commented "You can't get into Locker Room #4 thru that door. You gotta go around.." Think Spinal Tap. Think "Hello Cleveland". This was getting fuckin' ridiculous.
SO, we go around the corner AGAIN, ask the same guards with the xeroxed guide where Locker Room #4 is and they point to ANOTHER door down the walkway. Off we go and almost get run into by ANOTHER guard coming through the door from the other direction. We go through the door and find ourselves in a hallway. A few feet away a guy sits on a folding chair in front of a door with a "4" painted on it - Bingo! The guy looks like a roadie/rocker type and he must have recognized us as "belonging there" since I was wearing a Ted Nugent shirt AND we both had passes pasted on our torsos, so he opened the door for us without a word. On the other side was a huge room with a long table piled high with food and drink. Corporate Rock Rules!
So we hung out for awhile, eating free food and drinking free drinks. As we were about to depart to go back to our seats, some guy from Nine Inch Nails (not Mr. Reznor) was ushered into the room. He kept looking at me (perhaps jealous of my Ted Nugent shirt) so I introduced myself and the wife to him. Then we split to find our seats in time to see the return of KISS!
However, the Superdome "guards" once again added hijinx to our evening by telling us we couldn't go back up into the stands to our assigned seats! To clarify the situation, the more expensive seats were located on the floor closer to the stage while our seats were up in the stands behind the floor, further away from the stage. So basically what the guards were telling us was we "had" to stay down in the expensive seats! Duh, okay! We found an entire row of empty seats only around 20 rows back from the stage. Sitting behind us was a guy from Nine Inch Nails (not Mr. Reznor) and also the guitarists from White Zombie and Pantera - Rock Stars!
There were alot of drunks around us, primed and ticking to ROCK. The stage was hidden behind a huge black curtain that had "KISS" emblazoned on it in gray lettering. As the house lights went down, a Led Zeppelin song blared from the PA, the crowd roared, and I was 12-years old again! My excitement level had been building all week and now I was just about to explode.
Suddenly, a voice boomed out over the PA "New Orleans!! You wanted the best, and you got it! The hottest band in the world.. KISS!!!" The stage lit up, the curtain fell and the opening chords of 'Deuce' blasted from the stage... and there they were!! Ace, Peter, Gene, and Paul in all their make up glory! I was a bit stunned. They looked exactly how I remembered. Near the end of the song Ace, Gene, and Paul did their patented choreography at the front of the stage and the crowd went even more bonkers. As the song ended, the feedback intro to 'King Of The Night Time World' kicked things further into high gear, but as that song, and the evening, progressed it was obvious that while this looked like the KISS of old something was definitely amiss.
First of all, Paul had to point several times to spots on the stage to show Ace wear to stand! Also, some of Ace's solos were a beat behind the rest of the band; the Spaceman was definitely on another planet. Although the set list was all old songs, some of them were slower than they should have been. Ace's solo was the worst and reminded me of a 19-year old hamming it up on the sales floor at Guitar Center. He DID shoot rockets from one guitar though, but his smoking guitar didn't work and it looked rather pathetic as it levitated up to the rafters without smoke pouring from it (a very Spinal Tap moment).As for the other members, Gene did around a million groin thrusts PLUS after spitting blood he FLEW up to the lighting rig, where a mic was, and sang the first part of 'God Of Thunder' from up there! That was THE best part of the show for me - AMAZING!
Paul was rather goofy playing up the 'ol Sex God role - strutting, shaking his butt, and doing the legendary jingle boot dance. His best quote came while he tried to get a girl in the front row to show her tits to the video camera when he said "Show me where the milk comes from.." That's an actual quote! It worked though, and the girl lifted her shirt for the camera, but she was wearing a bra! Boo!! NOT very rock of her. Another goofy Paul quote was the intro to 'Love Gun': "This one's about my gun... I ain't talkin' 'bout no .38... And I ain't talkin' 'bout no .45..." Peter seemed to be the one who was truly having the time of his life onstage, which was cool.
However, the ultimate cheese came when Peter sang 'Beth' to a prerecorded backing track (just like in the old days) proceeded by him hurriedly tossing roses to the crowd. Of course, the arena rock crowd lit the place up with their lighters which caused Peter to comment "That's really beautiful! It looks like Heaven!"
While the band was definitely older, it was still cool to see them back in the saddle, and it was classic KISS, with TONS of pyro going off after every other song, flame throwers, confetti storms, Gene doing the fire breathing thing at the end of 'Firehouse', Paul smashing a guitar, and the whole band going out over the crowd on cherry pickers as Peter's drum riser rose to the rafters at the end of 'Black Diamond'. Pretty fuckin' cool. Low points: Ace's solo and him singing 'New York Groove'. High points: 'Black Diamond' and '100,000 Years'.
Also, during 'Rock & Roll All Nite' it was like KISS karaoke as the chorus was flashed onto the video screens, superimposed over images of the crowd. I thought this was way cheesy until I turned around and saw thousands of people behind me clapping and rocking out! It was one of the coolest sights I've ever seen at a concert. In fact, they were rocking out a bit too much, since a guy behind my wife reached over and shook her once or twice and yelled "Clap your hands!!! Rock!!!" Unfortunately, I didn't see this or I might have had to belt him for touching my woman.
After KISS left the stage we were escorted backstage, had another drink, and then the wife and I headed out into the muggy and hot New Orleans night to get a cab to take us back to where we were staying. Outside, the rock brigades were still milling around, abuzz from the rock show they'd just witnessed. We walked past two guys arguing over a KISS guitar pic. On the way back to the car, some pimply faced teenagers called us fags. Ironically, our cab ride that night was as entertaining as the one we had on the way to the show.... 11:30pm... A Nigerian cab driver who didn't know where the fuck he was going (we had to read a map and give him directions) and who was not happy that he was driving us to the other side of town. He also lectured us about how cabbies in New Orleans usually don't pick people up after concerts or sporting events... I didn't particularly care about his gripes though, because my head was still ringing from The Hottest Band In The World...The End.
----- -----
EPILOGUE:
Fast forward to 2004 and KISS are STILL on the road.. However, the childhood glee I had for the band in 1993 is long dead and gone. Why? KISS destroyed any and all nostalgia I had for them. How? By not going away!! By not slipping quietly into the night!! By not bowing out with dignity!! They announced, hyped, hyped, hyped, and performed a "Farewell Tour" in 2000-2002... Only to return a year later for ANOTHER tour! Uh, Webster's defines "farewell" as "a formal occasion honoring a person about to leave or retire". Me thinks KISS don't read Webster's... They've turned into a zombie that refuses to die.
KISS is now back down to 1/2 of its original lineup (Gene and Paul), but they continue to perform with replacement musicians wearing the old Ace and Peter makeup!! C'MON!! A fake Ace and Peter?!?!! Have you no shame?!! Of course, KISS has always been about making money (they were the Star Wars of rock bands in the 70's), but they've gotten so crass with their commercialism that they now have more in common with Celine Dion than with Rock & Roll. Thankfully, their 2004 Tour was one of the biggest flops of this year's concert season. Stick a fork in them. PLEASE.
A lot has changed since I knelt in that thrift store 11 years ago. I'm celebrating another birthday, but you'll no longer find any KISS CDs in my collection. I carted them down to the used record store a long time ago. I suppose you can "Rock & Roll All Night", but sometimes that isn't a good thing. I still have that copy of The Originals I rescued back in 1993, but it's no longer a totemistic reminder of my childhood. It's now a reminder that nostalgia can be mortal. Sometimes it just dies.
Maybe someday I'll tell you how my Star Wars nostalgia died. However, that death was painful... Tis a classic tale of "Be careful what you wish for".....
Monday, October 11, 2004
Rocktober - Or A Fraction Thereof.....
EAGLES OF DEATH METAL -
Cafe DuNord, S.F.
Rocktober 10, 2004
Fleet Week was in town this weekend and tonight's gig was in The Castro. Hello Sailor!
Rocktober is turning into a month of fractions... A week ago I rationalized seeing the New York Dolls eventhough it was only 2/5 of the original lineup. Well, how about seeing a "new" band who rolled into town with only 1/3 of their "original" lineup?!
Yes, the underground sensation known as the Eagles of Death Metal rolled into town minus 2/3 of their advertised lineup, including the member whom most in the sold out DuNord were probably there to see.. Namely Josh Homme of Queens of the Stone Age. Granted, Homme's role in EODM is rudimentary drummer / backing vocals, but does QOTSA's mainstream fan base know that?
TIM - Not There, JOSH - Not There, JESSE - Present
At first I was like "What the fuck?" but then the music geek in me reminded myself that the revolving members plays right into that whole Desert Sessions thing that Homme & Co. have perpetuated over the years. This was further supported by the fact that the "replacement" Eagles were Dave Catching (sometimes guitarist / keyboardist for QOTSA) and Joey Castillo (sometimes drummer for QOTSA)..
So, for those keeping score, the incarnation of EODM onstage basically contained 1/2 of QOTSA as opposed to only the 1/4 QOTSA content that was originally expected. As a result, QOTSA fans should have been 1/4 happier (is my math correct on this?). However, at the same time, Homme's absence also meant that there would not be 1/4 of the mighty Kyuss (R.I.P.) in the house. EODM were onstage for right around 3/4 of an hour. It took Timo and I 1/4 of an hour to get from Van Ness Ave. to my house after grabbing a midnight snack. Confused?? You musta gone to public schools like me.. Lock 'N Loll!
Beer count = 1. Probot shirts = 1 (mine). Drunk girls seem to like EODM more than anyone. On the way back to the car some pimply-faced teenagers called us fags. I answered "Dude, just because we're wearing sailor suits does NOT mean we're queer!"
Cafe DuNord, S.F.
Rocktober 10, 2004
Fleet Week was in town this weekend and tonight's gig was in The Castro. Hello Sailor!
Rocktober is turning into a month of fractions... A week ago I rationalized seeing the New York Dolls eventhough it was only 2/5 of the original lineup. Well, how about seeing a "new" band who rolled into town with only 1/3 of their "original" lineup?!
Yes, the underground sensation known as the Eagles of Death Metal rolled into town minus 2/3 of their advertised lineup, including the member whom most in the sold out DuNord were probably there to see.. Namely Josh Homme of Queens of the Stone Age. Granted, Homme's role in EODM is rudimentary drummer / backing vocals, but does QOTSA's mainstream fan base know that?
TIM - Not There, JOSH - Not There, JESSE - Present
At first I was like "What the fuck?" but then the music geek in me reminded myself that the revolving members plays right into that whole Desert Sessions thing that Homme & Co. have perpetuated over the years. This was further supported by the fact that the "replacement" Eagles were Dave Catching (sometimes guitarist / keyboardist for QOTSA) and Joey Castillo (sometimes drummer for QOTSA)..
So, for those keeping score, the incarnation of EODM onstage basically contained 1/2 of QOTSA as opposed to only the 1/4 QOTSA content that was originally expected. As a result, QOTSA fans should have been 1/4 happier (is my math correct on this?). However, at the same time, Homme's absence also meant that there would not be 1/4 of the mighty Kyuss (R.I.P.) in the house. EODM were onstage for right around 3/4 of an hour. It took Timo and I 1/4 of an hour to get from Van Ness Ave. to my house after grabbing a midnight snack. Confused?? You musta gone to public schools like me.. Lock 'N Loll!
Beer count = 1. Probot shirts = 1 (mine). Drunk girls seem to like EODM more than anyone. On the way back to the car some pimply-faced teenagers called us fags. I answered "Dude, just because we're wearing sailor suits does NOT mean we're queer!"
Friday, October 08, 2004
Rock Star Feedback: The Black Rider
The exciting sequel to 48 Hours!
Last month Umlaut reviewed the staging of the Tom Waits / William S. Burroughs / Robert Wilson play 'The Black Rider' in S.F.. Much to my surprise "the star" of the show (in Umlaut's opinion) read the review and was kind enough to give me a shout:
-------- Original Message --------
Date: Fri, 08-Oct-2004
From: Terry Edwards
Subject: Black Rider
To: umlaut
Greetings Umlaut - you put a great big smile on my face when I saw the blog about the Black Rider & your kind mention of my name. Hope the music lived up to your expectations. I see there was one Motorhead t-shirt on the count - 2 members of Metallica have been to see the show if that gains any extra kudos!
I've had a blast in SF & will leave for London with mixed feelings on Monday.
Take care - Terry Edwards.
http://www.terryedwards.co.uk
===
Thanks, Terry! Keep on Rockin' in the Free World!
Terry has performed and recorded with the likes of Nick Cave, PJ Harvey, Jesus & Mary Chain, Spiritualized, Siouxsie Sioux, and Madness to name a few.. So, long story short, it made Umlaut's day to hear from him.
Last month Umlaut reviewed the staging of the Tom Waits / William S. Burroughs / Robert Wilson play 'The Black Rider' in S.F.. Much to my surprise "the star" of the show (in Umlaut's opinion) read the review and was kind enough to give me a shout:
-------- Original Message --------
Date: Fri, 08-Oct-2004
From: Terry Edwards
Subject: Black Rider
To: umlaut
Greetings Umlaut - you put a great big smile on my face when I saw the blog about the Black Rider & your kind mention of my name. Hope the music lived up to your expectations. I see there was one Motorhead t-shirt on the count - 2 members of Metallica have been to see the show if that gains any extra kudos!
I've had a blast in SF & will leave for London with mixed feelings on Monday.
Take care - Terry Edwards.
http://www.terryedwards.co.uk
===
Thanks, Terry! Keep on Rockin' in the Free World!
Terry has performed and recorded with the likes of Nick Cave, PJ Harvey, Jesus & Mary Chain, Spiritualized, Siouxsie Sioux, and Madness to name a few.. So, long story short, it made Umlaut's day to hear from him.
Monday, October 04, 2004
Rocktober
Rockotober 1st -The Libertines @ The Fillmore, S.F.
You don't get to witness many indie bands battle classic rock demons like The Libertines do.. When was the last decade an indie band sent their junkie guitarist to a Buddist monastery in Thailand for rehab.. only to have him go AWOL within days.. and also kick the lad out of the band twice in a year, both times just prior to a U.S. Tour. These English kidz wanna be Mick & Keith for Halloween.
A couple of times over the past year I've made the bold statement that The Libertines are my favorite English band. Once the drugs and alcohol kicked in onstage I didn't regret making that statement. They're one of the few bands I wouldn't mind seeing while drunk off my ass.
Miatomic fought the Forces of Mediocrity. Beer count = 1. Misfits shirts seen = 1. On the way back to the car some pimply-faced teenagers called us fags. There was an indie rock version of a fight down front. One or two guys went down. No blood. However, Abercrombie & Fitch shirts may have gotten wrinkled. "I get along just singing my song.. People tell me I'm wrong.. Fuck 'em..."
Rocktober Favorite Thing:
The Sotheby's catalog from the Property From The Estate Of Johnny Cash & June Carter Cash auction that took place in September.. 320 pages of essential music geek crap (e.g. The Elvis autographed picture inscribed to June on page 22..)
Rocktober Fucked Thing:
Shiny Happy Dodgers Holding Hands
Rocktober 2nd - On the 2nd to the last day of the season, while in the thick of a prison yard fight pennant race, the Giants' fucking bullpen blew a 3 run lead in the fucking 9th Inning against the fucking Dodgers allowing fucking L.A. to win the NL West. Happy Dodgers make me wanna shit fuck up... or whatever you call it (Hi Doug!).. The next day the Giants were put out of their misery so it's another long wait until April.
Rocktober 3rd -New York Dolls / American Heartbreak @ The Fillmore, S.F.
Don't argue with me... Okay, YES 3/5 of the original Dolls are dead (actually 4/6 'cause you gotta count both drummers..). Okay, YES "Killer" Kane just died in July. Okay, YES I felt hypocritical about wanting to see them because I blew off the recent Who show for basically the same reason (No Ox = No Who). Okay, YES I'm reading Please Kill Me again. Okay, YES, but reports from the UK and NYC "reunion" shows earlier this year raved about the performances.. Okay, YES, but the "reformed" Dolls only played around 10 shows worldwide in Spain, England, Ireland, NYC, Japan, and L.A. with S.F. being the final curtain call (at least for now). Okay, YES, but "there's one reason I'm tellin' you this.. I feels bad and I'm lookin' for a kiss."
Music Geek Trivia That Brings This Post Full Circle: The Libertines' drummer hit the skins for the Dolls at their European shows this summer. Libertines shirts seen = 1.
Joey Acid King and I didn't have time to get our glam drag shit together.. so we made our way to The Fillmore sans lipstick... but not before grabbing a Philly Cheese Steak for dinner.
I got a total Old School Upper Haight / Nightbreak vibe in the room.. which played itself out when I ran into 4 or 5 dudes from the old S.F. Metal / Rock scene. A lot of the guys in the house looked like used record store clerks. I didn't have any confirmed tranny sightings. However, the most genuine person in the room was a dude with a glassy stare and long greasy hair, smeared eyeliner, ripped jeans, wearing a Dolls shirt and a red cape. It takes a lot to wanna wear a red cape in public these days. I wonder how many people shot up in the bathroom for old time's sake..
More Trivia: The "new" Dolls bassist used to be in the S.F. band Jetboy and later Hanoi Rocks. I saw Jetboy in 1983 and hated 'em 'cause I was all about Me-taaa-lii-caaa. They got the last laugh on me fer sure, like, totally.
Okay, YES it was only 2/5 of the old Dolls.. but that 2/5 had more genuine attitude and charisma than entire bands I've seen recently. Twas the quintessential music geek show.. All you had to do was leave your jaded attitude at the door 'cause there's more to life than Radiohead. The Dolls rocked with a capital F-U-N. High point for me = Sylvain singing the Johnny Thunders' song 'You Can't Put Your Arms Around A Memory' that lead straight into 'Lonely Planet Boy'. Fucking perfect. It was also F-U-N seeing teenage Hot Topic kidz bouncing next to "normal looking" older folks in their 50's (aka original punks) and everyone singing along to the likes of 'Puss 'N Boots', 'Vietnamese Baby', 'Trash', 'Jet Boy', 'Personality Crisis'.. Fucking perfect. In the words of Joey: "David Johansen is what Mick Jagger would be like if he was still cool."
The Dolls came on exactly as scheduled at 9:15pm and I was back inside the house at exactly 11:25pm. A surgically precise trip down Please Kill Me Lane. Feather boas seen = 2. Beer count = 1. On the way back to the car some pimply-faced teenagers called us fags. We replied "We're not queers.. We're Lonely Planet Boys!"
Tuesday, September 28, 2004
Random Rock Star Moment #13: Noel Redding
"I'm stone free, I do what I please..."
In 1996 Umlaut and Skychick traveled to Ireland for the first time. Renting a car in Dublin we drove through the center of the Emerald Isle and then took the road heading south. After passing through Cork, we found ourselves in the village of Clonakilty.
While walking around the village I noticed a flyer for an upcoming show by the Noel Redding Band in a local pub. The music geek in my head immediately shouted "Noel Redding?! Bass player of the Jimi Hendrix Experience?! What's he doing in this Irish village?! Shouldn't he be in swingin' London living off his Rock 'N Roll Legacy?!"
For those not up on their Rock History: Redding laid down the bottom end on the mighty trinity of Jimi Hendrix Experience albums Are You Experienced?, Axis: Bold As Love, and Electric Ladyland.... And on songs such as 'Purple Haze', 'Stone Free', 'Foxy Lady', 'Fire', 'Spanish Castle Magic', 'Little Wing', 'If 6 Was 9', 'Castles Made Of Sand', 'Crosstown Traffic', 'Voodoo Chile', 'All Along The Watchtower', etc. etc. I'm sure many of you readers have tripped out on his bass lines while stoned. If not, light one up and listen to 'Purple Haze' and zone on the bass. Fuck yeah...
Later that day, while visiting a local silversmith just outside of town, I asked the owner and his daughter about Redding. They informed us that Noel had been living in Clonakilty for several years and the pub where he was playing was his regular hangout. However, the circumstances surrounding how he ended up in Clonakilty were sad:
Evidently he'd fallen into drugs as many former Rock Stars do... but eventually he met a woman who pulled him out of the darkness, helped him get clean, and he got back into playing music. He formed a new band and toured pubs and clubs around England and Ireland. It was on one such trek that there was a freak accident. The band's van was either rear ended or had to stop suddenly and the equipment was not properly secured. The amps, etc. were thrown forward and hit Redding's girlfriend in the back of the head. The blow killed her instantly. Since the accident happened in the area, Redding simply stayed in the village to grieve and never left. And that, as the story went, is how Noel Redding ended up in the village of Clonakilty, County Cork, Ireland.
To be truthful, I've never researched to see if this story was true. Its tragedy was so romantically Rock 'N Roll that I've just let sleeping dogs lie.
Anyway, later that evening we made our way to the pub called De Barra where Redding was due to play. There was Hendrix memorabilia and photos scattered on the walls.. including a Gold Album award for Are You Experienced?. Nice.
As I stood at the bar waiting for our pints I noticed a short man come out of a back room. He proceeded to walk past me and I noticed he was wearing a Late Night With David Letterman jacket. It was Noel Redding. The first thing that came to my mind was "Where's the 'Fro?"
The Jimi Hendrix Experience - 1967 (Noel & 'Fro on right)
After a bit I had to visit the loo.. The pisshole was empty as I took my position... and who should enter and stand next to me to also heed the call of nature but.. Noel Redding. DOH. So... what do you say to a Rock Star when you find yourself in such a situation? Think fast... Upon completion of our duty I casually asked Redding "What time are you going on?" and he professionally replied "In about 10 minutes.."
Lock 'N Loll! Cue intro to 'Purple Haze'...
What followed was as far removed from Hendrix burning his guitar onstage as you could possibly get.. Redding took the stage with a simple 4 piece band and they proceeded to play nothing but cover songs. Beatles, Elvis Costello, Van Morrison, etc. The pub was crowded with locals who whooped and hollered after every song. Pints came and went. At one point in the middle of a song Redding stepped off the stage, still strumming his guitar, and walked over to the bar for another pint. He then returned to the stage without missing a beat.
Noel Redding @ De Barra (Pic by Umlaut)
It was a nice evening. Ya know, maybe it isn't better to burn out than to fade away. Fading away is more dignified. Redding had already seen a million faces, and he had rocked them all. He was playing music for the right reasons: A pint with friends. The neighbors from his village having a good time. F-U-N.
"And so castles made of sand melt into the sea, eventually..." [CLICK FOR LINK]
===
Added 7/13/06:
Hi, I just read your piece on Noel, nice piece. I came across it while randomly surfing for something else. Noel and Carol Appleby had lived in Clonakilty in a mouldering old farm house for many years prior to the accident. It was particularly tragic as Noel and Carol were really getting everything together, money was starting to come in, the book was a success, the recording studio was built and the both seemed contented. They gigged most friday nights, Saturday nights and Sunday mornings in various pubs in the town and surrounding areas if they weren't touring. The gigs had an eclectic mix of musicians and styles. A typical Sunday morning gig in Shanley's could have 10 or 12 musicians of various styles and experience from the "young guy who had only owned his guitar for 6 months and was still learning (me)" to international stars from Noel's past. No egos were allowed and everybody played their piece. It didn't matter who you were, you were just there because you enjoyed the music.
He is still truly missed in the area and he is still spoken of with great affection. It is mainly because of Noel's influence in Clonakilty since 1972 that Clonakilty has such a thriving live music scene today. Have a look at the line-up for the Clonakilty International Guitar Festival. Here's the link to the Pub De Barra's that you were in
http://www.debarra.ie/
CLONAKILTY INTERNATIONAL GUITAR FESTIVAL 2006
Eric Bell, Nick Harper, Preston Reed, Louis Stewart, Jeff Martin, John Spillane, Bill Shanley, Clive Barnes, Frankie Lane, George Lowden, Thomas Leeb, Richard Gilewitz, Matt Churchill, Paul Brady (TBC) and more to be announced soon.
Would like to thank all who took part in last years festival and look forward to seeing you again this year. If you have any comments or queries about the festival please contact us. If however you are interested in a Cd (€10) or t-Shirt (€10) + p/p from the festival please email us and we will accommodate you.
CONTACT DETAILS:
clonguitarfest@eircom.net
www.clonguitarfest.com Coming Soon
Billy Shanley, one of the headliners mentioned in the piece above would have been a kid of 10 years when he started getting guitar lessons from Noel. Now there are 5 or 6 of his gold and platinum discs adorning the walls of his family's pub, Shanley's in Clonakilty.
Cheers
David Ryan
Clonakilty, Ireland
In 1996 Umlaut and Skychick traveled to Ireland for the first time. Renting a car in Dublin we drove through the center of the Emerald Isle and then took the road heading south. After passing through Cork, we found ourselves in the village of Clonakilty.
While walking around the village I noticed a flyer for an upcoming show by the Noel Redding Band in a local pub. The music geek in my head immediately shouted "Noel Redding?! Bass player of the Jimi Hendrix Experience?! What's he doing in this Irish village?! Shouldn't he be in swingin' London living off his Rock 'N Roll Legacy?!"
For those not up on their Rock History: Redding laid down the bottom end on the mighty trinity of Jimi Hendrix Experience albums Are You Experienced?, Axis: Bold As Love, and Electric Ladyland.... And on songs such as 'Purple Haze', 'Stone Free', 'Foxy Lady', 'Fire', 'Spanish Castle Magic', 'Little Wing', 'If 6 Was 9', 'Castles Made Of Sand', 'Crosstown Traffic', 'Voodoo Chile', 'All Along The Watchtower', etc. etc. I'm sure many of you readers have tripped out on his bass lines while stoned. If not, light one up and listen to 'Purple Haze' and zone on the bass. Fuck yeah...Later that day, while visiting a local silversmith just outside of town, I asked the owner and his daughter about Redding. They informed us that Noel had been living in Clonakilty for several years and the pub where he was playing was his regular hangout. However, the circumstances surrounding how he ended up in Clonakilty were sad:
Evidently he'd fallen into drugs as many former Rock Stars do... but eventually he met a woman who pulled him out of the darkness, helped him get clean, and he got back into playing music. He formed a new band and toured pubs and clubs around England and Ireland. It was on one such trek that there was a freak accident. The band's van was either rear ended or had to stop suddenly and the equipment was not properly secured. The amps, etc. were thrown forward and hit Redding's girlfriend in the back of the head. The blow killed her instantly. Since the accident happened in the area, Redding simply stayed in the village to grieve and never left. And that, as the story went, is how Noel Redding ended up in the village of Clonakilty, County Cork, Ireland.
To be truthful, I've never researched to see if this story was true. Its tragedy was so romantically Rock 'N Roll that I've just let sleeping dogs lie.
Anyway, later that evening we made our way to the pub called De Barra where Redding was due to play. There was Hendrix memorabilia and photos scattered on the walls.. including a Gold Album award for Are You Experienced?. Nice.
As I stood at the bar waiting for our pints I noticed a short man come out of a back room. He proceeded to walk past me and I noticed he was wearing a Late Night With David Letterman jacket. It was Noel Redding. The first thing that came to my mind was "Where's the 'Fro?"
The Jimi Hendrix Experience - 1967 (Noel & 'Fro on right)After a bit I had to visit the loo.. The pisshole was empty as I took my position... and who should enter and stand next to me to also heed the call of nature but.. Noel Redding. DOH. So... what do you say to a Rock Star when you find yourself in such a situation? Think fast... Upon completion of our duty I casually asked Redding "What time are you going on?" and he professionally replied "In about 10 minutes.."
Lock 'N Loll! Cue intro to 'Purple Haze'...
What followed was as far removed from Hendrix burning his guitar onstage as you could possibly get.. Redding took the stage with a simple 4 piece band and they proceeded to play nothing but cover songs. Beatles, Elvis Costello, Van Morrison, etc. The pub was crowded with locals who whooped and hollered after every song. Pints came and went. At one point in the middle of a song Redding stepped off the stage, still strumming his guitar, and walked over to the bar for another pint. He then returned to the stage without missing a beat.
Noel Redding @ De Barra (Pic by Umlaut)It was a nice evening. Ya know, maybe it isn't better to burn out than to fade away. Fading away is more dignified. Redding had already seen a million faces, and he had rocked them all. He was playing music for the right reasons: A pint with friends. The neighbors from his village having a good time. F-U-N.
"And so castles made of sand melt into the sea, eventually..." [CLICK FOR LINK]
===
Added 7/13/06:
Hi, I just read your piece on Noel, nice piece. I came across it while randomly surfing for something else. Noel and Carol Appleby had lived in Clonakilty in a mouldering old farm house for many years prior to the accident. It was particularly tragic as Noel and Carol were really getting everything together, money was starting to come in, the book was a success, the recording studio was built and the both seemed contented. They gigged most friday nights, Saturday nights and Sunday mornings in various pubs in the town and surrounding areas if they weren't touring. The gigs had an eclectic mix of musicians and styles. A typical Sunday morning gig in Shanley's could have 10 or 12 musicians of various styles and experience from the "young guy who had only owned his guitar for 6 months and was still learning (me)" to international stars from Noel's past. No egos were allowed and everybody played their piece. It didn't matter who you were, you were just there because you enjoyed the music.
He is still truly missed in the area and he is still spoken of with great affection. It is mainly because of Noel's influence in Clonakilty since 1972 that Clonakilty has such a thriving live music scene today. Have a look at the line-up for the Clonakilty International Guitar Festival. Here's the link to the Pub De Barra's that you were in
http://www.debarra.ie/
CLONAKILTY INTERNATIONAL GUITAR FESTIVAL 2006
Eric Bell, Nick Harper, Preston Reed, Louis Stewart, Jeff Martin, John Spillane, Bill Shanley, Clive Barnes, Frankie Lane, George Lowden, Thomas Leeb, Richard Gilewitz, Matt Churchill, Paul Brady (TBC) and more to be announced soon.
Would like to thank all who took part in last years festival and look forward to seeing you again this year. If you have any comments or queries about the festival please contact us. If however you are interested in a Cd (€10) or t-Shirt (€10) + p/p from the festival please email us and we will accommodate you.
CONTACT DETAILS:
clonguitarfest@eircom.net
www.clonguitarfest.com Coming Soon
Billy Shanley, one of the headliners mentioned in the piece above would have been a kid of 10 years when he started getting guitar lessons from Noel. Now there are 5 or 6 of his gold and platinum discs adorning the walls of his family's pub, Shanley's in Clonakilty.
Cheers
David Ryan
Clonakilty, Ireland
Thursday, September 23, 2004
Mommy Knows Best
This piece originally appeared in Umlaut #7 (March 1993)
Mommy Knows Best
by Ginger
When I was a child I wanted to be a spy (Actually I still want to be one). I kept a journal called Ginger's A-1 Spying & Survival Guide. Of course, family members were the most convenient targets. I wrote down things like "Wed.: Caught Nicky picking his nose and eating it. Gross."
I got the most dirt when mom and dad took one of their all day shopping trips up to San Jose (a half hour drive away). They'd come back with 80's-type knick-knacks (i.e. junk) like the golfer's head that hung on a wall. When you pulled his tie he'd laugh and spit water at you. Fun. I would smile and nod sweetly, not letting them know that I'd just found all of my letters to Santa in mom's sewing basket.
One day I dragged my two younger sisters into our parents' bedroom. Nothing too interesting in their closets, just a bunch of check stubs. However, when we got to mom's top bedside drawer we found a life-size, erect chocolate penis! We couldn't stop laughing that nervous laugh that comes when you don't know how you're supposed to feel. Up to that point it had never clicked: I had never thought of mom as a sexual being before.
A couple of weeks later, when they had gone to San Jose again, we went to check out the chocolate penis again. We opened the drawer slowly. This time it was more exciting because we weren't just happening upon it, we were purposely, even anxiously, seeking it. It was like we knew what we were getting into. Then we saw it, but this time the chocolate penis had a bite taken out of it! Well, after that I thought my mom was pretty cool.
A couple of years later I started sneaking into the folks' room when they went to San Jose to watch the Playboy Channel. By that time I had stopped inviting my sisters to come along. It didn't have a whole lot to do with spying either, now that I think about it. I guess that's why I never made it as a spy...
Editor's Note: Danke Ginger! Bis später, alligator.
Mommy Knows Best
by Ginger
When I was a child I wanted to be a spy (Actually I still want to be one). I kept a journal called Ginger's A-1 Spying & Survival Guide. Of course, family members were the most convenient targets. I wrote down things like "Wed.: Caught Nicky picking his nose and eating it. Gross."
I got the most dirt when mom and dad took one of their all day shopping trips up to San Jose (a half hour drive away). They'd come back with 80's-type knick-knacks (i.e. junk) like the golfer's head that hung on a wall. When you pulled his tie he'd laugh and spit water at you. Fun. I would smile and nod sweetly, not letting them know that I'd just found all of my letters to Santa in mom's sewing basket.
One day I dragged my two younger sisters into our parents' bedroom. Nothing too interesting in their closets, just a bunch of check stubs. However, when we got to mom's top bedside drawer we found a life-size, erect chocolate penis! We couldn't stop laughing that nervous laugh that comes when you don't know how you're supposed to feel. Up to that point it had never clicked: I had never thought of mom as a sexual being before.
A couple of weeks later, when they had gone to San Jose again, we went to check out the chocolate penis again. We opened the drawer slowly. This time it was more exciting because we weren't just happening upon it, we were purposely, even anxiously, seeking it. It was like we knew what we were getting into. Then we saw it, but this time the chocolate penis had a bite taken out of it! Well, after that I thought my mom was pretty cool.
A couple of years later I started sneaking into the folks' room when they went to San Jose to watch the Playboy Channel. By that time I had stopped inviting my sisters to come along. It didn't have a whole lot to do with spying either, now that I think about it. I guess that's why I never made it as a spy...
Editor's Note: Danke Ginger! Bis später, alligator.
Sunday, September 19, 2004
Ozzfest 2004 - Pittsburgh
Submitted by Sonny:
"South Side: a neighborhood known for steel mills, warehouses and tough kids." - From Pittsburghese: How to Speak Like a Pittsburgher by Sam McCool
On the way to Ozzfest, my brother and I made a detour to the South Side of Pittsburgh. Knowing that we'd get nothing decent to eat at the concert, we needed to fortify ourselves with a heavy lunch. We were seeking the famed South Side Slopes, a monstrous sandwich tailor-made for men of enormous appetites: steel mill workers, coal miners and others who need a ton of calories to get through a day of hard physical labor.
And that's what brought Mark and I to Fat Head's Saloon on delightfully run-down East Carson Street. At the bar we encountered a stranger named Buddy, a heavily tattooed house painter in a torn-up tank top. He looked like a guy who knew the way to Ozzfest. We'd never been to a concert in Pittsburgh before, and Pennsylvania liquor laws are strange and puritanical. So I asked Buddy if they sold beer at the concert. "Yeah, but it's six bucks a glass," he said. "You should get drunk here with me instead!"
This was the beginning of a long downhill slide that lasted until the wee hours of the following day. Fat Head's had Iron City beer on tap. Buddy quickly became drunker and friendlier. Soon he was treating me like I was his oldest and dearest friend. He announced that he was going to Ozzfest too, just as soon as his friend showed up to drive him there. He offered us a ride to the concert (in his friend's car) and took it for granted that we'd take him up on his offer.
As the afternoon wore on, Buddy laid out plans for what we'd do before and after the concert. He also asked me repeatedly if I wanted an Imp and Iron (a shot of Imperial chased with an Iron City beer). This offer made me uneasy, mainly because I suspected that what he really wanted was for me to pay for both of us. I became more uneasy when his friend appeared -- a menacing guy with a battered face and long hair, like an aging Pink Floyd roadie.
In the midst of this, the famed South Side Slopes sandwich arrived. Men who are about to spend hours standing up at heavy metal concerts need serious food. This monstrosity met our needs admirably. It consisted of kielbasa, fried pierogies (they put pierogies on everything in Pittsburgh, including pizza), grilled onions and grilled peppers, topped off with a big squirt of Cheez Whiz. This artery-clogger recently earned a place on Maxim magazine's "Top 10 list of America's best meat hog sandwiches". It was, as my wife says, "so much food that it's disgusting."
I ate it all. So did my brother.
Then it was off to the Sleep Inn motel for a pre-concert booze-up. Not wanting to get arrested for drunken driving, we had a taxi take us to and from the show. This only made things worse, as I will explain shortly.
The crowd at the show was more blue-collar, more tattooed and definitely fatter than I'm accustomed to after years in south Florida. Wearing my Ozzfest 1998 t-shirt, I couldn't decide if I fit in or not. Goths in black fishnet stockings mingled with college kids in West Virginia University clothing and guys my age who could remember when Paranoid was a new vinyl release… it was all slightly surreal.
Curiously, there were signs everywhere strictly prohibiting "lawn fires." I found out why during Slayer's set. By this time, my brain was spinning from Iron City and bourbon. We stumbled into a section of the lawn that we hadn't been to before. There we found a bunch of greasers standing in a circle, gazing at a small fire. They'd made it from popcorn bags and other garbage.
This seemed really perverse and pointless. It was hot enough already, and they were all shirtless and sweaty. Apparently a Pittsburgh tradition, the lawn fire seems to be a close cousin of the Detroit practice of setting fires on the night before Halloween or when their team loses (or wins) a big game.
But it didn't last long. A couple of event staffers rushed up with fire extinguishers, doused the fire and moved on with bored expressions as if this was just another dreary day at the office.
Now, it's confession time: I can't remember much more about the concert. To my shame, both of us were staggering around like drunken sailors run amok on leave by the time Judas Priest hit the stage. Mark claims he was staggering only because of a sore knee, but I know better. Of course, there was no safety issue to worry about... no date rape danger, like there would have been for a teenage girl, and we had the taxi to take us back to the Sleep Inn. But still, this is no way for grown men to behave. Oh, the horror.
I can say with confidence that Priest played a hotter set than Sabbath. My brother, who's not much of a metal fan, didn't say much about the music. But when Slayer came on, he asked "Who's this band? They're good." He said the same thing when Priest's set started with Hellion/Electric Eye, and Halford appeared in the middle of the eye-shaped stage set. Sabbath opened their set with War Pigs and the same video they showed during their last tour.
By the time we reeled back to our hotel, there was no food to be had. Even the local pizza place was closed. It was at this point that I realized I'd have to endure a crushing hangover the next day. But men like us are made for these adventures. My first concert in Pittsburgh was a rite of passage. I was honor-bound to see it through to the bitter end.
"South Side: a neighborhood known for steel mills, warehouses and tough kids." - From Pittsburghese: How to Speak Like a Pittsburgher by Sam McCool
On the way to Ozzfest, my brother and I made a detour to the South Side of Pittsburgh. Knowing that we'd get nothing decent to eat at the concert, we needed to fortify ourselves with a heavy lunch. We were seeking the famed South Side Slopes, a monstrous sandwich tailor-made for men of enormous appetites: steel mill workers, coal miners and others who need a ton of calories to get through a day of hard physical labor.
And that's what brought Mark and I to Fat Head's Saloon on delightfully run-down East Carson Street. At the bar we encountered a stranger named Buddy, a heavily tattooed house painter in a torn-up tank top. He looked like a guy who knew the way to Ozzfest. We'd never been to a concert in Pittsburgh before, and Pennsylvania liquor laws are strange and puritanical. So I asked Buddy if they sold beer at the concert. "Yeah, but it's six bucks a glass," he said. "You should get drunk here with me instead!"
This was the beginning of a long downhill slide that lasted until the wee hours of the following day. Fat Head's had Iron City beer on tap. Buddy quickly became drunker and friendlier. Soon he was treating me like I was his oldest and dearest friend. He announced that he was going to Ozzfest too, just as soon as his friend showed up to drive him there. He offered us a ride to the concert (in his friend's car) and took it for granted that we'd take him up on his offer.
As the afternoon wore on, Buddy laid out plans for what we'd do before and after the concert. He also asked me repeatedly if I wanted an Imp and Iron (a shot of Imperial chased with an Iron City beer). This offer made me uneasy, mainly because I suspected that what he really wanted was for me to pay for both of us. I became more uneasy when his friend appeared -- a menacing guy with a battered face and long hair, like an aging Pink Floyd roadie.
In the midst of this, the famed South Side Slopes sandwich arrived. Men who are about to spend hours standing up at heavy metal concerts need serious food. This monstrosity met our needs admirably. It consisted of kielbasa, fried pierogies (they put pierogies on everything in Pittsburgh, including pizza), grilled onions and grilled peppers, topped off with a big squirt of Cheez Whiz. This artery-clogger recently earned a place on Maxim magazine's "Top 10 list of America's best meat hog sandwiches". It was, as my wife says, "so much food that it's disgusting."
I ate it all. So did my brother.
Then it was off to the Sleep Inn motel for a pre-concert booze-up. Not wanting to get arrested for drunken driving, we had a taxi take us to and from the show. This only made things worse, as I will explain shortly.
The crowd at the show was more blue-collar, more tattooed and definitely fatter than I'm accustomed to after years in south Florida. Wearing my Ozzfest 1998 t-shirt, I couldn't decide if I fit in or not. Goths in black fishnet stockings mingled with college kids in West Virginia University clothing and guys my age who could remember when Paranoid was a new vinyl release… it was all slightly surreal.
Curiously, there were signs everywhere strictly prohibiting "lawn fires." I found out why during Slayer's set. By this time, my brain was spinning from Iron City and bourbon. We stumbled into a section of the lawn that we hadn't been to before. There we found a bunch of greasers standing in a circle, gazing at a small fire. They'd made it from popcorn bags and other garbage.
This seemed really perverse and pointless. It was hot enough already, and they were all shirtless and sweaty. Apparently a Pittsburgh tradition, the lawn fire seems to be a close cousin of the Detroit practice of setting fires on the night before Halloween or when their team loses (or wins) a big game.
But it didn't last long. A couple of event staffers rushed up with fire extinguishers, doused the fire and moved on with bored expressions as if this was just another dreary day at the office.
Now, it's confession time: I can't remember much more about the concert. To my shame, both of us were staggering around like drunken sailors run amok on leave by the time Judas Priest hit the stage. Mark claims he was staggering only because of a sore knee, but I know better. Of course, there was no safety issue to worry about... no date rape danger, like there would have been for a teenage girl, and we had the taxi to take us back to the Sleep Inn. But still, this is no way for grown men to behave. Oh, the horror.
I can say with confidence that Priest played a hotter set than Sabbath. My brother, who's not much of a metal fan, didn't say much about the music. But when Slayer came on, he asked "Who's this band? They're good." He said the same thing when Priest's set started with Hellion/Electric Eye, and Halford appeared in the middle of the eye-shaped stage set. Sabbath opened their set with War Pigs and the same video they showed during their last tour.
By the time we reeled back to our hotel, there was no food to be had. Even the local pizza place was closed. It was at this point that I realized I'd have to endure a crushing hangover the next day. But men like us are made for these adventures. My first concert in Pittsburgh was a rite of passage. I was honor-bound to see it through to the bitter end.
Friday, September 17, 2004
48 Hours
The Black Rider -
The Geary Theater, S.F. - Sept. 15, 2004
Yes, I've been obsessed with the collected works of Tom Waits at certain points in my life. Yes, I was involved in stalking him at a 1992 charity event (Hi Kat!). Yes, I've read Burroughs and been enamored with The Beats. Yes, call me a peasant, but a lot of modern art / theater just doesn't do it for me. THEATAH! ACTING! In the words of David St. Hubbins: "It's such a fine line between clever and stupid." While some of the staging and costumes were enchanting, other parts were so "Dieter, touch my monkey!" However, hearing Marianne Faithfull sing Waits was a treat. But to tell you the truth, I got the biggest charge when I saw Terry Edwards listed in the program as a member of the band in the orchestra pit. I was really into his band Gallon Drunk.. I had no idea he was in the production! Beer count = zero. Motorhead shirts = 1. On the way back to the car, some pimply-faced homeless teenagers called us fags. The crowd was a nice mix of hipsters, punks, and old S.F. money... I would like to have heard each demographics response to the production: "Brilliant!" "Sublime!" "Where's the bar?" "Huh?"
Overnight Johnny Ramone died.
The next day I wore my Ramones shirt 'cause I'm a geek. While running errands, 2 people commented on it and Johnny's passing. "Gabba gabba we accept you, we accept you, one of us.."
Supersuckers -
Cafe Du Nord, S.F. - Sept. 16, 2004
I've been following this band "forever" and admit to taking them for granted in recent years. But when they launched into 'Poor' it was 1991 all over again for me (in a good way). Ramones shirts = 5 (6 if you counted mine). Cheers to Capt. Kirk for the roadie seating during the show. Geeks shall inherit the Earth! Fightin' drunks manhandled out the door = 2. Beer count = 1. On the way back to the car, some pimply-faced teenagers called me a fag. Onstage Eddie Spaghetti probably had the best eulogy for Johnny Ramone: "I was saddened by Johnny's passing... but it IS one less vote for Bush." That kinda talk will send you to Hell. I like it.
The Geary Theater, S.F. - Sept. 15, 2004
Yes, I've been obsessed with the collected works of Tom Waits at certain points in my life. Yes, I was involved in stalking him at a 1992 charity event (Hi Kat!). Yes, I've read Burroughs and been enamored with The Beats. Yes, call me a peasant, but a lot of modern art / theater just doesn't do it for me. THEATAH! ACTING! In the words of David St. Hubbins: "It's such a fine line between clever and stupid." While some of the staging and costumes were enchanting, other parts were so "Dieter, touch my monkey!" However, hearing Marianne Faithfull sing Waits was a treat. But to tell you the truth, I got the biggest charge when I saw Terry Edwards listed in the program as a member of the band in the orchestra pit. I was really into his band Gallon Drunk.. I had no idea he was in the production! Beer count = zero. Motorhead shirts = 1. On the way back to the car, some pimply-faced homeless teenagers called us fags. The crowd was a nice mix of hipsters, punks, and old S.F. money... I would like to have heard each demographics response to the production: "Brilliant!" "Sublime!" "Where's the bar?" "Huh?"
Tom Waits - New Year's Eve 1990-91 Souvenir Button
(from the Umlaut Archives)
(from the Umlaut Archives)
Overnight Johnny Ramone died.
The next day I wore my Ramones shirt 'cause I'm a geek. While running errands, 2 people commented on it and Johnny's passing. "Gabba gabba we accept you, we accept you, one of us.."
Supersuckers -
Cafe Du Nord, S.F. - Sept. 16, 2004
I've been following this band "forever" and admit to taking them for granted in recent years. But when they launched into 'Poor' it was 1991 all over again for me (in a good way). Ramones shirts = 5 (6 if you counted mine). Cheers to Capt. Kirk for the roadie seating during the show. Geeks shall inherit the Earth! Fightin' drunks manhandled out the door = 2. Beer count = 1. On the way back to the car, some pimply-faced teenagers called me a fag. Onstage Eddie Spaghetti probably had the best eulogy for Johnny Ramone: "I was saddened by Johnny's passing... but it IS one less vote for Bush." That kinda talk will send you to Hell. I like it.
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
Random Rock Star Moment #13: Yoko Ono
Yoko Ono Backstage Pass - 1996(from the Umlaut Archives)
There was a time when I was close to a certain Grunge band. The history books will tell you they basically created Grunge.. and I wouldn't argue with that. For one moment in time the band also caught the attention of Yoko Ono and Sean Lennon. This resulted in the guitarist and drummer recording a couple of songs with John Lennon's loved ones on Yoko's 'Rising' album. When Yoko's 1996 'Rising' Tour hit California they were invited to join her onstage in L.A. and S.F..
Prior to the show at the Great American Music Hall in S.F., I kept noticing people looking at me... Then it hit me. The Round Eyes thought I was Sean (Asian, long hair, roundish glasses). We all look alike, ya know.. Or maybe they thought I was Yo-Yo Ma.
Anyway, as an intro tape, Slayer's 'Angel Of Death' blared out of the PA prior to the band walking onstage. I was told that was Sean's touch. Nice. Once onstage, Yoko screamed and did her thing. Even at her age she was still doing what she wanted to do.. She didn't pander to her past or to her dead husband's legacy. I thought the performance was cool.
Afterwards we were ushered backstage. The drummer of the previously mentioned Grunge band introduced me to Sean. He had a drink sitting next to him on a table and as he reached to shake my hand he knocked it over. Looking down at the mess he said "Hmmm, I guess I should take that as a warning.." before shaking my hand and greeting me.
A couple of minutes later Yoko appeared. I'm sorry to tell Beatles Geeks that the room was not suddenly filled with the smell of brimstone and smoke. I was introduced to her and she shook my hand and said how nice it was to meet me. I shook the hand of the woman who broke up The Beatles... and lived! I'm sorry to tell Beatles Geeks that I did not have an image of The Eye of Sauron sear into my brain when I touched her flesh. On the contrary, I was completely gobsmacked that Yoko was the same size as my Grandma.
After a couple of other introductions to backstage visitors, the tour manager announced they were leaving. So without further ado we walked out the backstage door...with Yoko Ono and Sean Lennon. A once-in-a-lifetime surreal moment for sure. In the alley behind the club there were a few Beatles Geeks hanging out with stuff they wanted autographed. As Yoko and Sean appeared they shouted their names. Twas the closest thing to authentic Beatles Mania I'll probably ever experience.
Christ, you know it ain’t easy.. You know how hard it can be. The way things are going, they’re gonna crucify me...
===
Another perspective on the evening from Joey Acid King:
"I confused the guy from the Beastie Boys who was there (Adam "MCA" Yauch) with one of the other Beasties. A friend in Omaha had dated the other Beastie Boy and I was asking if he knew her and he was like "I'm sorry dude, but I don't know what the hell you're talking about" (he didn't say exactly that). He was mellow about it. Another foot in the mouth moment for Joey. Yoko was such a mellow person. I came out of that night with a new appreciation for her as an incredibly deep person. I actually liked her screaming and told her it sounded like Native cries I'd heard before."
Sunday, September 12, 2004
Burning Man
The author with Primus - 1992 (Pic by Umlaut)
By Salome
This Burning Man virgin finally popped her cherry.
After many years of listening to people’s descriptions of the phenom I absolutely must experience, I finally got there to see it for myself. A little thing called the first week of school prevented this high school teacher from skipping out on her job to get dusty and half naked, but the calendar gods fell differently this year, enabling me to take off time in the second week of school instead.
I expected the nakedness, the pounding techno music, the art cars, the dust, the cool people. I had been told in minute detail about Burning Man and made, albeit inadvertently I’m sure, to feel like the prime loser for never having attended it. All that is behind me now.
Burning Man didn’t change my life forever. It isn’t the center of my social universe. And yet it was really cool. Here’s one reason:
I lay in a tent with my Virgin Atlantic beddy-byes over my eyes, wishing I were still asleep but reluctant to get up and make the four-planet trek to the bathroom where I may or may not find toilet paper. Someone a couple camps over put on Lennon’s “Imagine” and I couldn’t help but have tears gather at the corner of my eyes. There’s a war on. There’s a Republican convention on. There’s an inarticulate hatemonger in the White House. But here were nearly 40,000 people living life in peace, sharing all the world. They can imagine there’s no money and no possessions too, except what we share to feed each other and keep the sun from frying us. There’s solar powered pizza ovens and a whole camp dedicated to recycling our trash and people who have learned to leave no trace that they have lived there for nearly two weeks. Here’s a brotherhood and sisterhood, a place where at least for a short while we can find hope again and restore our faith in people. That was real and that was worth the dust, the expense, the trek, the discomfort, and the 24-hour pounding techno.
It’s something when a stranger will wash your disgusting, playatized feet. It’s something when someone you don’t know, and many who you do, will tell you that you’re beautiful. It’s something when a group of people will take the time to make a bunch of absinthe and serve it to you for free. It’s something when people like your camp so much that they will volunteer to do the nasty little jobs like cleaning old tobacco out of hookahs just to thank you for making a cool space that they’ve enjoyed. And all of these could happen on the same day, whereas we might be happy if these kinds of things came through our lives once within a year.
Here’s something else that I didn’t expect and that I really appreciated: Everyone lives in the moment. This place exists for but a week, and with tens of thousands of people there, we all know we might not run into each other again. So people say what they’re feeling right then and make it count. I met some amazing people, but we never exchanged contact information. We won’t ever do lunch or email each other for a month before discontinuing. We just appreciated each other’s beauty and coolness for that brief time. Sounds hokey--maybe it is--but I liked it. And it was pervasive. I got smiles and greetings wherever I went. People waved and yelled out love for my camp. All the time, people made eye contact and paid attention. People took the time. The joke was that it’s playa time, but I wish I could bring a little more playa time into my life.
I also expected the creativity, the art and dancing and costuming, but it was still a constant and astonishing pleasure to witness it moment after moment after moment. I saw a woman too beautiful to be merely human spinning a fiery hoop around her body. People in homemade costumes too numerous to describe—furry, sleek, spangly, sexy, exotic, half-naked, bejeweled, colorful—eye candy that inspired and delighted me. I would stand and forget to move as I faced the playa and saw a wooly mammoth skeleton roll by, or a mobile movie theater playing Barbarella, or a circular saw cutting across the desert, or a guy on a tandem bike whose passenger was a flaming, pedaling man. My knees would start moving involuntarily to the 24-hour pounding techno or to the band that showed up at our camp asking to play while acrobats bent and contorted in front of them. And I got to be the dancing girl I always yearn to be, barefootedly swaying and shaking my hips and feeling the Middle Eastern beats, loving myself, only to have person after person tell me how beautiful I was to watch. How often do you get to do what makes you love yourself and have an audience that appreciates it just as much as you do? Well, I got to do it numerous times a day, day after day, and for that I’m grateful.
I’m also grateful to the people at my camp—Hookahdome—who provided generous hospitality, a respite from the elements, and something other than 24-hour pounding techno to endless, grateful burners. My campmates spent thousands of dollars and countless hours (heard of Microsoft Widows? I was feeling like a Hookahdome Widow for the last couple months) creating a space and a magic flying carpet that ended up surpassing all of our expectations as a favorite hangout for thousands of people. On Saturday afternoon, Gordon rode around the Esplanade, popping into different camps, and found 21 people as the most one had, while Hookahdome had about 45 people inside ours and another 38 waiting in the sun to get in. DJs, belly dancers, fire spinners, and bands wanted to perform at Hookahdome. Hookah experts and hookah virgins alike smoked our hookahs (one Lebanese guy excitedly told me, “We have a hookah at our house and I can’t wait to try yours. Even my grandmother smokes it.”) Domers (Hookahns?) vacuumed playa dust (thanks Brian for having a vacuum fetish!), led yoga mornings, spanked pillows (“Bad pillow!” cried Rosminah), stuck their fingers into sticky jars of tobacco, and stayed patient while dusty people ran to jump onto a flying carpet as it passed, all to provide this service. We rocked. And I’m immensely proud to say I was one of them.
You may say I’m a dreamer. You may be going, “Oh gawd, another starry-eyed convert. Do I gotta listen to one more person go on about Burning Man?” But as the greeters said to us as we left the playa, “Take Burning Man back with you to the real world.” That means the openness, the awareness, the creativity, the living-in-the-present-moment, the gratitude for things and each other, the care for the places we live. There’s a lot of good in that.
Editor's Note: I've been through the desert on a horse with no name, it felt good to be out of the rain. In the desert you can remember your name, 'cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain.
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