A guest rambling! Holy crap! Someone actually wants to write and be published on here! How cool is that?!? This was written by a good friend of mine and fellow music nerd who lives in Austin. I highly suggest that you give him a visit and read what he has!

12/5/2011

Cake. Who doesn’t like Cake? Fat kids love Cake, old people love Cake, Russians love Cake. Hell, I
know a guy that’ll do things for Cake that he should be ashamed of but he’s not (or is that blueberries?).
Either way, it should come as no surprise that when 101X hosted a concert at Stubbs in Austin, TX titled
Christmas with Cake I was more than a bit enticed to purchase tickets. Nick and I (the fellow addicted
to some sweet fruit) went back and forth on getting tickets not, mind you, because we weren’t fans of
Cake, but because we had just spent our hard earned money a few weeks ago on Modest Mouse tickets
(do yourself a favor, listen to Delirium) and were kind of feeling the holiday pinch in the pocket.

For those of you who don’t live in a city driven by a music scene, you can only imagine how quickly the
costs add up. It’s basically like having a drug problem; you’re always looking for the next best show,
bugging your friends to see if they want to go.

“Hey man, did you know the Protomen are coming to town? Yeah, yeah, they’re like, awesome and
shit…tickets are ten dollars. I’ll drive?”

And it’s always some obscure band you’ve only heard of twice but because you found a song you
enjoyed enough to download you automatically assume the concert has to be freaking awesome. In
every sense you have no clue how good this band is. You’ve done little to no research you’re just going
for the high, for the memory, to tell a story. You’re going so in the off chance you’re at some social
gathering you’ll be the guy who gets to say “Oh, Power Glove? Yeah, I saw them a few years back.
Music’s good. Concert wasn’t too impressive though.”

You’re teetering on the edge of becoming a music snob for groups you have little to no interest in (let
alone have really heard) and you should be ashamed.

Then again, it’s those underground bands that drive the music industry, is it not? Case in point, Nick and
I were all set to forego the Cake event when I was online reading and saw the posting in more detail.

101X presents Christmas with Cake! Doors at 7pm. Indoor after show with blah blah blah and UME…

Wait? Did I just read that correctly? I DID!

I was like a fat kid in cookie factory. Oooh muthafucking may (UME). I first came across UME one
evening when I was driving home from Buffalo Wild Wings after a fifty cent wing indulgent and
attempting to not fail intermediate algebra (again). Headed home I tuned to KUT and to my enjoyment,
UME was in the studio talking about their latest album and their background. One of the songs they
played was Pendulum. HOOKED!

I know what I’m about to say is probably going to cost me some credibility when it comes to music but I
have to get this off my chest…sigh…I’m a fan of chick bands.

There I said it. Fuck you.

I’ve been a fan of chick bands dating back to L7, Garbage…shit, I got my first music hard on when I saw
Joan Jett’s I Hate Myself for Loving You.

I’m just a chick band fan and when I saw UME was playing the after show I bought tickets, put a time
off request in for the day after the concert, slid my chair over to Nick’s and proclaimed with great
enthusiasm, “I’m going to see UME muthafucka! Oh, and Cake will be there too.”

A few weeks later, the concert date had arrived, and Mother Nature had decided to set conditions to
weed the weak from the seasoned (no pun intended). Austin Texas probably only gets cold two weeks
out of the year and those weeks are in no way shape or form consecutive. It can be 20 degrees on
Monday and 107 for the next six months. So when I woke up Sunday morning and saw it was still forty
degrees out and the Seattle drizzle hadn’t stopped since Friday night, I knew this concert was going to
be that much better. Hell, if I was lucky I was going to get to see some people get a little mud crazy,
right?

Ok, another confession. I’ve really only heard two or three songs from Cake. It’s not that I’m NOT a fan,
it’s just I’m not an avid follower. There are some bands out there that really appeal to our tastes, bands
we can really connect with and we become pretty dedicated dogs following our masters around begging
for treats. Cake is not one of those bands for me, so I didn’t follow them around begging for treats.
Now, when they released an album or a song, I probably listened to it, maybe even picked up a copy
here and there, but I wouldn’t say I was asshole deep in love with the group. Which is why this concert
(much like the Modest Mouse concert) was going to be a new experience for me. I’m the guy after the
memory.

We paid, we parked, we hiked to Stubbs and sought shelter inside where the bitter cold wasn’t punching
us in our parts. Hit up the bar, got a Guinness, and anxiously chatted with Savannah for a while
wondering if any one of these girls or guys bumping into us could be a member or knew a member of
UME. I was on a mission for a great memory.

Not long after, we were up stairs indulging in tasteless conversations about drunken nights and
embarrassing bodily functions when suddenly we hear music echoing from outside.

Oh, did I mention the Cake show was an outside venue? I told you, seasoned vs. weak.

We really didn’t pay much attention at first thinking we were only missing the opening band until the
next song played and Nick, in true character, informed us “Shit! That’s Cake.”

We paid our tab and headed outside amongst a crowd so thick it was almost an act of futility to find a
decent spot to see the stage let alone the band. Trudging through clouds of smoke of both kinds, and
mud puddles slick with chill and vengeance, we navigated our way to a spot by the sound board just
right of the stage; a perfect view of the lead singer, John McCrea, and a couple whom I’m sure ended up
having sex during one of Cake’s songs.

The area was covered and crowded. A heater full of the sun’s rage was beating down so viciously, by
standers cleared a large area underneath it to avoid cooking. I actually made the mistake of standing
under the damn thing too long that before it was over I was sporting just a tee shirt and 2nd degree
burns on my head (insert bald jokes here assholes).

Cake’s stage presence is a perfect mixture of talent and humanity as they set a tone for the event to be
calming with just a little bit of social angst.

Trumpeter Vince DiFiore leans back and fills his lungs with so much passion his cheeks seem to thin at
the stretch as soft subtle notes trickling like rain across a pond of mesmerized fans who are stunned by
the harmony infecting their emotions.

McCrea, positioned just in front of the mic like a professor to his pupils, prepares himself to educate
those less aware of what it’s like to have an experience. His constant approach to the stand is firm and
deliberate while he sings not to a far off special place but to the rows of people who’ve waited patiently
and anxiously in the unfamiliar cold and dampness to hear his preaching’s.

Slowly the tempo escalates as bassist Gabe Nelson and drummer Paulo Baldi sneak their ingredients to
the mix. Suddenly the lights are dropping and fading back in, a soft blue shadowed by pale white spots
of light swirling around the canopy.

With melodic almost alternatively-bluesy tunes sifting across the landscape, onlookers stretch their
necks and sway from side to side or hop up and down tossing their hands and fingers in the air to
showcase how invasive Cake’s music is to their personal selves.

John McCrea does a wonderful job of keeping the crowd engaged throughout the concert. Where some
performers just show up, play their songs and engage in small banter with the audience, McCrea divides
the crowd in two and instructs the left side to sing one part of a chorus in competition with the right
side of the audience singing a separate part of the chorus. Motioning for everybody to clap their hands
or sing louder McCrea’s stage presence is entertaining and not without a bit of venom in his bite which
was evident in a response to a guy who wouldn’t stop yelling while McCrea was talking.

“Shut the fuck up!” McCrea calmly boasts into his microphone while he’s explaining the rules of a tree
ceremony taking place. “I’ll stand up here and talk for another 25 minutes if you keep yelling like that. I
don’t give a fuck about you. Self-entitlement bullshit.”

How can you not appreciate a band whose lead singer has no qualms pissing off show goers in order to
maintain some degree of focus and control?

After Cake’s two impressively entertaining sets they bowed off stage and the crowd began chanting like
pissed off kids at a birthday party “MORE CAKE MORE CAKE”.

Without disappointment, McCrea and his band of talent spilled back on stage where he thanked us in
attendance for our support again (something you only hear once from most bands, he reiterated several
times – such an appreciative curmudgeon) and broke into an amazing rendition of Ozzy’s War Pigs,

followed by two other songs that maxed out the energy of the crowd.

Cake’s performance concluded, and people made their way either inside to the next show, or off to their
next adventure. If you ever get the opportunity to see Cake in concert, jump on it. You may not leave
the concert as a redefined individual but you walk away with a new admiration for the performers.

I know, you’re asking “What about UME and the rest of the local artists?”

Relax monkeys, I’ll get those updates to you soon enough. In the meantime stay fanatic fans.

Great stuff, Himo! Keep it up and we look forward to having you back here soon!

Holy CRAP I haven’t updated this in a looooooong time! A lot has happened in my absence (with definitely more ‘Goods’ than ‘Bads) and I’m enjoying every second being a step-dad and being with the woman that I love I have a pretty decent job and my pants still fit (which is a great way of saying that life is pretty damn good!)

I like to laugh and listen to music. Sometimes, I like to do both! And my surrogate punk rock dad who just so happens to be one of the funniest spoken word artists on the planet happens to be of no exception to the two. If you haven’t ever listened to Black Flag or The Rollins Band, please do yourself a favor and use the YouTubes and type in either name. Trust me, you’ll thank Henry Rollins later.

From the streets of Washington D.C. to the southern California hardcore scene to traveling all over the world speaking and reading and learning and leaving audiences all over laughing and thinking, Henry Rollins has done a lot for promoting the “little guy” (himself standing about 5’9″ and being a HUGE part of SST Records) and kicking all kinds of ass inbetween. His spoken word is wonderfully entertaining and EXTREMELY informative and he covers a wide variety of topics because, well, his ADD runs faster than Usain Bolt.

Listen to the guy, read what he’s written, and don’t run away from his music. Trust me: it’s all good.

Stay cool!

It’s awards season. This means that everyone who was on their A-game during the regular year gets put through a “fine microscope” and basically makes a career right on the spot. Granted, if you’re a nouveau pop-sensation or married to a hip-hop heavyweight, this shouldn’t be a problem. For the rest of the really great artists, it’s a chance to schmooze and rub elbows and hopefully, just hopefully, catch someone’s attention for longer than 5 seconds to perhaps make it to a party to play some of your shit.

Tonight is/was the night of the 52nd Grammy Awards. From all over the music industry, 109 nominations spread over something like 20 different genres and numerous technical and lifetime achievements are going to be awarded. The ones I care about? Song of the year, best new artist, best metal performance, best hard rock performance, and best rock album. Let’s take a look at some of those…

Best New Artist: MGMT gets my vote. A performance at SxSW 2008 and Austin City Limits is nothing to sneeze at, let alone the first day of Bonnaroo AND, not to mention supporting acts like Radiohead on a world tour are a sure sign that you’re doing something right. Oh, and they opened for this new chap from Liverpool who played with some dude name Lennon and wrote some acoustic tune called ‘Blackbird.’

Song Of The Year: I’m a fan of anything with distorted guitars and a good, solid drummer but, I’m not a Kings of Leon fan. Anthony Caleb sings like he’s picking up a 250 lb. weight and I just can’t get behind “Use Somebody.” Is it a ballad? Self-loathing poetry set to music? I don’t know but personally, I’m kind of pulling for Taylor Swift on this one. After all, can Kanye West fuck up a Grammy awards speech? Only if he wants Jermaine Dupree kicking him in the spine down an elevator shaft.

Best Rock Album: I actually have a problem with the nominees for Best Rock Album. In my humble opinion, only 3 of the 5 nominees are consistent rock acts. Don’t get me wrong, Dave Matthews writes some damn fine music and Eric Clapton is a fucking legend but, they are more alternative and blues musicians, respectively. AC/DC? Angus Young has recorded the same record over and over again 19 times over the past 34 years. Not saying it’s bad music but holy hell man. How about something new? Don’t even get me started on the Green Day bullshit. You don’t approve of the government that lets you write/record/perform whatever you want? Fuck off and go somewhere else. Of all the nominees in the category, I’m going to bite my lip and say U2 for the win.

Best Metal Performance: Judas Priest? When the fuck did Judas Priest record a new album? I mean, with the evolution of the guitar form the late 70s combined with the evolution of heavy metal music, this Grammy, without a doubt in my mind, should have gone to Lamb of God for their track “Set To Fail” off the album ‘Wrath.’ This one just has me pissed off.

Oh, and Michael Jackson got a tribute for his contribution to pop music. I guess of Eddie Van Halen plays a guitar solo on one of my tracks, I get one too?

Stay cool folks…

Well, it’s been a year since I started putting pen to paper (or fingers to keys rather) on this silly thing. A lot has happened in the past year: I’ve met all kinds of really great people, played some amazing music, found new genres and artists to appreciate, and managed to somehow keep track of it all.

This is the time that everyone starts thinking about their own future. Perhaps you all have made a New Year’s resolution (mine = no more sodas) or are going to propose to a girlfriend/boyfriend/significant other under fireworks or something. I’m ultimately curious about what happens next.

Where does music go from here? We’re entering the 2nd decade of the new millenium and so far, nothing really “new” has happened. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing but, I’m just curious to see how rock and roll evolves or what kinds of new EDM make their way to the surface or what NAMM 2010 is going to be like.

We’ll of course have new bands, upcoming 2010 tours and record releases, and tons of movies with soundtracks breaking onto the scene. That just gives me more to listen to of course.

I also plan on releasing at least 2 6-tracks or maybe a 4-track and a whole album by the time this New Year is done. I figure it will be a step in the right direction and maybe, just maybe, people like it.

Thanks for reading and putting up with my shit for the past year folks. It means a lot and you all pretty much kick ass for doing it with (hopefully) a smile on your face.

May 2010 bring you all kinds of peace, happiness, and really bitchin’ tunes.

Stay cool folks…

Oh the weather outside is frightful and Christmas tunes are getting massacred and butchered by the thousands. I’m not talking about little Bobby Sue’s 4th grade Holiday Extravaganza, Chili Cook-Off, and Yard Sale… I’m talking about shitty renditions of already established Christmas tunes.

Now I can appreciate and respect anything that is done well, regardless of what genre it is. It may not be my favorite thing on the planet but, as long as it’s good, I can dig it.

But there is where the fine line ends. It’s one thing to have Christmas tunes playing at the appropriate time (i.e. NOT the day after Halloween) and at a volume that wouldn’t make Michael Jackson’s corpse rise up and begin the zombie apocalypse. I mean, in some department stores, the musak is damn near offensively loud. It’s like Kenny G came by your house and took over your living room or some shit.

While were on that note, why the hell to people make Christmas records? Never heard “Carol of the Bells” before? Then don’t go out and listen to the Trans Siberian Orchestra’s version and call it the best thing you’ve ever heard. If you do that, I may or may not just sneak up behind you and kick you in the spine.

It was one thing for Bing Crosby or Dino to record a Christmas record. That was when all the big shots had swagger and drank Jack or J&B hand over fist and cavorted and rough-housed and had an entourage that would put P-Diddy to shame because, let’s face it, when you’ve got Vegas to bend to your every beck and call or Atlantic City catering to every possible whim you could ever imagine, that’s just the pinnacle of ‘G’ status. Therefore, “Christmas With The Rat Pack” is a must for Christmas parties or just lounging around the house in a horrible fuzzy sweater and slippers. Even when Manhattan Transfer cut “The Christmas Album” back in the 90′s, they still did some pretty kick ass renditions of holiday classics and even a Beatles tune! Come one now… How fucking cool is that?

Go out and grab John Coltrane playing “Greensleeves” or “Holiday Classics” and hear B.B. King and the Andres Sisters and Billie Holiday do some really wicked holiday themed shit. I promise, your Christmas tree and the fuzzy sweater given to you by your aunt Ruth will appreciate.

With that, sit back, pour up a Snuggly (a shot of peppermint Schnapp’s dropped in a mug of hot chocolate) and have a damn fine Christmas!

Until next time, stay cool…

If you’ve turned on the new within the past, oh 35 years, you’ve noticed about the little pissing contest between Israel and Palestine. Hamas launching rockets into the Gaza Strip, Israeli commandos seize a ship carrying arms to Hezbollah, the kidnapping of folks on both sides and executions of all shapes and sizes… This little altercation has been going on for as long as their has been both Israel and Palestine and will more than likely continue long after I and everyone I know shed this mortal suit.

Throughout the history of world, pretty much every country has had one ethnic group pissed of and oppressing an alleged “inferior” or “sub-standard” ethnic group. In the United States alone, Native Americans and African-Americans were oppressed for hundreds years. Nazi Germany eliminated over 60% of the Jews in Europe during World War II. Armed militias in Sudan are using rape as a weapon to terrorize women, their families, and their communities. Bosnian Serbs massacred native Bosniaks by the tens of thousands in the early to mid-90s.

White Afrikaans and black Africans in South Africa during apartheid…

The massacre, rape, and enslavement of native folks in Sierra Leone, Cote d’Ivore, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo for diamonds.

The world is full of conflict and war and all kinds of atrocities based solely on the color of someone’s skin or their religious beliefs. Folks open their doors in some areas and are greeted by buckets of acid thrown on them. Human beings as a whole can be some of the most terrible creatures on the planet Earth, capable of terrible and downright evil things. The recorded history of the world is populated with iniquitous peoples of all ethnicities, shapes and sizes and I think that shit just flat out sucks.

Want to makes friends with your neighbors or meet new people upon arriving at an institution of higher learning? Walk up to a complete stranger reading a book you like and strike a conversation. Order some pizzas, open your garage doors, post up some signs and put on a P-Funk record and just crank up the jams and invite everyone you see to come over and hang out. Don’t like P-Funk? Fine, put on a Ramones record or maybe The Ruts or Elvis Costello or whatever you put on to make yourself happy and spread the goodwill.

If you’re in a coffee shop or a bar or a gas station, buy someone a cup of coffee or a beer or a soda and strike up a conversation and just be nice to someone. I don’t know if everyone gets it but, it’s not cool to hate and be an asshole. If you’re angry, channel your anger into something positive or constructive so you don’t turn into this jaded, cynical fucktard bent on just making people’s lives miserable.

Natural disaster strikes? Folks seeking donations for hungry folks in El Salvador? Donate time, or money if you can. When you see an Iraq War veteran, or any veteran for that matter, say “Thank you sir/ma’am for all that you’ve done.” Help folks that could really use it. Give the bum at the street corner $5 so he can put a warm meal in his belly on a cold day.

The world would be made a great and amazing place if everyone just said “You know what? We’ve been fighting over some really stupid shit for a looooong time and I say we put on some Earth Wind and Fire and fucking party like we’ve been best pals.”

While were all just mortal human beings on this planet, were also cogs and gears in the overall grand machine. The way to foster the best feelings of peace and goodwill and love for your fellow man is to find a language that we all speak. The Clash, MxPx, Minor Threat, and 311 did it for me. I can imagine that someone out there that is from the other side of the world or looks totally different than you or I do enjoy the same music that you do.

Support your fellow man. I promise it’s worth it. Really listen to some punk rock and focus on the positive.

Stay cool folks.

This may or may not have anything to do with music and, relax followers of Clear Channel Radio and it’s affiliates, it’s just me ranting, nothing more nothing less. Be that as it may…

Dear Clear Channel Radio,

First of all, thanks for playing such a diverse galaxy of music. From the United States to France to parts of New Zealand, you guys bring music to the multitudes. In fact, folks tune into your radio stations for more than just music. Why, without Clear Channel Radio, we would not be able to hear the Sean Hannity tear American politics a new asshole or hear Coast to Coast AM’s theories on aliens and the paranormal. You guys cater to all genres of music and viewpoints imaginable and allow listeners to call in to express their own views or request a song for their lubby dubby boyfriend/girlfriend/significant other at 9:30 or a Thursday night. You run contests, have sponsored numerous concerts (which spawned into Live Nation) and have enriched the lives of thousands of people through your promotions and philanthropic events. There’s just something that rubs me the wrong way about how you guys operate.

Clear Channel Radio, you’re  fucking insane and, at least in my humble opinion in the rock vein, you’ve been known to play shitty music.

Through your voice high on the top of the radio broadcasting mountain, you have silenced the voices of so many little folks that it has made you look like the pussified bully who beats kids up for their lunch money. At one point, you silenced the voices of established rock acts like Rage Against the Machine (their entire fucking discography at one point!) and Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers (Free Fallin’? That’s one of the greatest rock tunes ever written!) yet have allowed bands that criticize the American government and the American way of life (Green Day? American Idiot? What the hell?!?) to rule the airways. Granted, the silenced tunes were muted at a time when our nation was mourning. But still… Perhaps people vent their frustrations by listening to Rage Against the Machine while they beat the shit out of a punching bag instead of hitting the bottle or taking out on someone else.  I mean, what the hell guys? Will you ever make up your multi-billion dollar, socially conservative, corporate incestuous minds?

You have silenced the viewpoints of the American student, protester, and anti-war advocate. You refused to put up a billboard from a group that just wanted to protest the war in Iraq. Your contract with Project Billboard only allowed the “rejection of ads that are illegal or contrary to public morals;” Believe it or not, and this may come as a bit of a shock to you, there are people out there who disagree with the war in the Middle East and that vote for members of the Democratic party. Do I agree with their views or political standings? I don’t have to. I agree with the right for freedom of speech and every-fucking-thing about it.

Lastly, you have been known to (at times) play shitty music. I can’t really argue much with this one as different people are entitled to different things and what makes me happy may not make the person living across the street from me or someone in western Indiana happy. You play some good tunes and you play some shitty ones, just like every radio station on the planet. That’s just my views on that.

You’ve done some good and you’ve done some bad. That’s okay, you guys are only human. I just wish that you do more good things and remember to keep the voice of the little man in mind. After all, you were once not so big and bad yourself…

So, I don’t have anything against radio at all. Radio has brought music and important news to every perceiveable corner of the globe and with the internet being what it is, the sky is literally the limit. This is just my rant on something bigger than myself keeping the voices of individuals silent. If you want to express yourself, I encourage you to go ahead and do so with passion and conviction. It’s not something you see too often these days.

Stay cool folks.

Berklee is… Is… Shit, I can’t even put it into words

The school is absolutely amazing. It’s tucked right into the Back Bay area of Boston and is surrounded by all kinds of great restaurants, the best dive bar in the country (literally), and all kinds of really amazing places to just sit back and watch people go about their lives.  It doesn’t really look like your conventional college campus but, walking into the buildings at 136 and 150 Mass. Ave. and it looks like every other music department at any university in the country…

But that’s where it ends.

The percussions studios (yes, that’s plural) are, quite literally, in the basement (insert drummers being cave dwellers joke here). The computer lab and listening libraries are absolutely stunning and state of the art (in fact, every incoming student at Berklee is REQUIRED to buy an Apple MacBook.) Even the damn recitals halls (again, yes plural) are acoustically beautiful. The faculty is top notch, the facilities are incredible, and the people just really kick ass altogether.

FYI, I got my ass KICKED for a week straight.

I’ve been playing guitar for 14 years and have been studying the mechanics of how music functions for pretty much my entire adult life. I have well over 60 college level music theory credit hours under my belt (with nothing below a B+ thank you) and I was just getting worked. I couldn’t get my hands to do what my brain was telling them. There were kids 7-10 years younger than me that were playing shit I can’t do. But, I could out theory any given person at the workshop (except Jon Finn, Guy van Duser, and Dave Martone. Those guys are fucking AWESOME.) I completed the workshop and came home with a new found goal and a new level of professionalism (at least that’s what I’m working on) that I could really get used to. Everyone was just top notch and I had the absolute best time of my life while I was there. I seriously couldn’t have asked for anything more…

… Except a full-paid scholarship. That would have kicked ass.

I walked away with Jon Finn’s book “Advanced Improvisation for Modern Rock Guitar” which, at least in my humble opinion, is one of the smartest, most informative instructional books out there for any rock guitar player. Seriously, pick up a copy and play along with the accompanying CD tracks…

I took some pictures so, I’ll put those up in a completely separate album on my Photobucket and post a link here later. (That memory card is now toast. Looks like I’ll have to go back with the Lady and the Kiddo and take some more!)

Until next time, be cool folks…

Sorry this one is so short. I just can’t put this any other way…

The music world lost a true pioneer in the art and craft resulting in a now multi-billion dollar industry. Les Paul had his final downbeat at 94 years old.

This is the man that everyone from Chuck Berry and Buddy Holly to Al DiMeola and Eddie Van Halen owes their career to. Les Paul invented the solid body electric guitar that has since spawned all the greats and truly changed the way we all play and even how we record. His invention of the solid body electric guitar and multi-track recording completely changed the way that music was played, performed, and recorded to be enjoyed by so many across the world. Anyone who records, enjoys, and performs any kind of music owes much thanks and appreciation to the truest innovator of all things we come to know as rock and roll.

Lester William Polsfuss, 1915-2009. I can’t wait to solo with you at the crossroads man.

Cracked calluses on his fingers are just another day on the job. The frayed blue jeans and gray t-shirt worn are exactly what he would wear in his college days. The gig he plays tonight are unlike the hundreds he’s played through the years. While the days of 18-month tours and countless hours spent perfecting signature licks and tweaking effect rigs are things of the past, the look is still there. When the sleep deprived, road weary body picks up the aged guitar like an old friend, the look in his eye is unchanging. Like that first show all those years ago, the way his eyes light up on stage have remain unchanged. Even the insane, well-honed rituals eventually resulting in a hopefully successful performance have been consistent for years. By the time he gets to the venue, the familiar rhythm is already going like clockwork. To him, these dark, beer-filled rooms feel like slipping into a warm bath. A quick pit stop at the beer for a pint of courage starts the beginning of just another gig.
It’s different from playing sold out stadiums and festivals. Crowds of tens of thousands has turned into 50 at the most. To his surprise, fans show up and ask him to sign a few autographs before the show. As he gets his guitar and takes his seat on the stage, his entire career flashes before his eyes. Signing that first record deal feels just the same as it did in his 20′s. First major label album released. Top 10 hit. First world tour. Several years go by. Success after success comes like waves on a shore. Second and third albums released. Another world tour. Partying only to wake up, play, and party again. Seeing family and friends becomes only an annual event. More partying. Birthdays come and go. Marries. Has a child. Another studio album. Festival tour followed by an immediate world tour. Another Top 10 hit. Stress and empty bottles start to pile up. Limits become a thing of the past.  Ten years turns into twenty. More empty bottles. Starts feeling his age. Club tour becomes the norm again. Spends more than a week at home at a time. Spends more time with his wife and child. Friends become friends again. Inner demons are silenced. Finally gets a chance to close his eyes…

…only to open when his name is announced.

It’s just another gig at the bar that gave him his start. The walls look the same, the people are the same, and the feeling has never changed. The empty beer bottles on top of the amplifier signify the show is almost over. He plays one last song before going home. His hands still shake and sweat still rolls off his forehead the same way as it did in the early years. The audience sings along and a thunderous applause erupts. The look in his eyes never changes. It’s like a kid on Christmas morning or watching a perfect sunset. He wouldn’t change this feeling, or the past, for anything in the world.

Until next time, stay cool folks…