311 Day 2014

How does one describe one of the best experiences of their lives?
My brother and I just got back from four days in New Orleans where we did nothing but celebrate peace, love, unity and beers the size of our heads.  Thousands of 311 fans from every state in the US and something like 18 different countries descended on the town for the infamous 311 Day festivities and friendships were forged between members of the 311 Familia that will last a lifetime.  The best part was that my brother had the opportunity to experience it as well.
We landed late that Sunday morning, dropped our bags off at the hotel on St.  Charles Avenue, and walked about three blocks to what was to become our favorite day time bar, a place called Lucky's where you could have a drink, grab something to eat or do your laundry.  (A brilliant concept in my opinion.)  From there we walked around the town, killing time before we could check into our hotel, then stopped for beer and some amazing fish tacos at a place appropriately called Beer and Tacos.

My brother and I on Bourbon Street.

Once we sated our appetites, we got cleaned up and took the trolley halfway across town to meet up with my cruise buddies at the house they were staying in.  How awesome it was to be reunited with the people I shared yet another amazing experience - the 311 cruise last year - with.  We then headed to Bourbon Street and partied the night away.
It's really hard to describe the feeling of elation as you walk through the streets of an amazing town, waving at, saluting, and exchanging a "Happy 311 Day!" with complete strangers.  It kind of reminds you that there is still good in this world.  The fact that five guys from Omaha have put their heart and soul for the past twenty years into creating music that spreads the message of peace, love and unity just blows my mind.  And they're not finished yet.

Hammie and I with my cruise buds.

We must have waited in line to check out the merchandise for four or five hours on that Monday, but did we
really care?  No, because we were with like minded folks.  When drinks needed refilling someone would volunteer to step into the nearest bar.  When someone needed something to eat, another would accompany them to the nearest eatery to satisfy their hunger.  We laughed, we got to know total strangers, and had a damn good time.  We met people from all over the country - it was basically a giant tailgate minus the cars.
Bourbon Street was in a constant state of "Stay positive and love your life!" during our time there.  You could hear 311's music being cranked out of every bar you walked by - to me, that's a little slice of heaven.
Why?  You may ask.  What's so special about this silly band?  I can't really explain.  It's a passion for most of us.  Some get it, some don't.  Everyone who knows me says they think of me whenever they hear 311 on the radio.  Just last night Philip texted me to tell me that he was thinking of me while shooting pool and so he played Don't Stay Home on the bar's jukebox.

Homemade shirts are the way to go.

The concert at the New Orleans Arena on March 11 was nothing short of extraordinary.  The band played three sets totaling five hours and 66 songs, at times accompanied by either native jazz musicians or a small orchestra.  I don't know of many artists that do that for their fans anymore.
I plan on keeping this experience I was blessed enough to have tucked deep inside my heart for the rest of my life, and look forward to many more like it....I should probably open up a new savings account titled "The 311 Experience," being as that I will be on the boat again come 2015.    

Leave It To Music To Soothe The Soul

I'm still coming down from my trip to New Orleans and let me tell you, the drop has been pretty brutal.  [I'm working on a recap post so stay tuned for that.]  In the months leading up to my trip, it was the One Big Thing I was looking forward to, and now that it's over, I need something else to Look Forward To, but I don't want to live my life that way.  I want to look forward to every new day.  I want to completely immerse myself in the present moment and squeeze every bit of joy possible out of it.  I see so many others capable of this, so why is it so hard for me?

We don't want to walk into the gray, solo rolling with no map in hand
so we reach out for someone to grasp, keep from sinking into the sand
Pick it up now brother help another pick it up
don't get stuck in the destruction looming near
pick it up now brother help another pick it up
This is the revelation of the year
Picking up all the pieces here and there to see if one might fit
Spinning them around and sideways and up and down it kinda stings a bit
Digging through all the ditches
Just unwinding all the stitches into thread then hang it out to dry so
what was I expecting just collecting balls of lint up in my head?
I know I know don't yell at me
- Revelation of the Year, 311

Right now, all that runs through my head has so much more to do with things other than Philip.  The constant struggle I feel is an existential reverberation of life.  I know it doesn't have to be that way so I need to make some choices to remedy this problem, because I'm missing out on so much.  You know how some people are functioning alcoholics?  Well, I'm a functioning depressive.  I get out of bed and go to work every day, I do laugh, I do smile, I do enjoy the blessings I'm lucky enough to have bestowed upon me.  But those demons are always in the back of my head waiting for a moment of weakness so they can attack.  Those moments come in the hour before daybreak when my brain hasn't fully woken up yet.  Sometimes they hit in the midst of reverie, but it's usually before the sun has come up that the waves of desolation sweep over me.
There are things I do have on my side - I have God, my family, my friends, and believe it or not, the music of 311.  Their new album has hit home.  The chatter going around social media is how personal the new songs are, and I'm right there in agreement.

Every time I think I've got it figured 
something bigger always jumps in the frame
something gets in the way
Now I'm ready to turn the page on yesterdays and forgive them
Now I'm ready to disengage to seize the day and move on.
-Boom Shanka

I'm getting better at reminding myself to
Try not to think too far ahead
The pendulum swings soon enough
We could stay on this side instead
But we wanna make it rough

But the kicker is teaching myself to
Journey in peace now
You don't have to be afraid
Though mistakes
they will be made
Journey in peace now my friend

No you can't go around it
You have to walk right through it
My father told me that so long ago
Every time that you ignore it
It gets a little more
You just have to walk toward 
The fear to go

Don't be afraid
it's all part of the plan for us
Don't be afraid
it's all part of the plan for us
All that you hold dear
is on the other side of that fear.

For The Love Of Music and Writing For My Life

So I'm writing.  I'm writing and I'm writing, and not worried about it making any sense until it all ends up fitting together.
Today I sat down at the computer and my thoughts returned to the dream I had last night.  I dreamed of my father, a rare occurrence.  I'd have to say it was inevitable because I've been thinking about him so much lately, especially since I've revisited Meat Loaf's Bat Out Of Hell.  Anyone who knows my immediate family knows that my parents passed on a mind-boggling love of music to my brother and me.
It's because of them that Hammie and I will call each other at random times to say, "Hey have you heard of...?"  Or "You gotta listen to this song."  I truly believe that the love of music was one of the things that kept our parents together for so long.  I mean, if it weren't for The Beatles, I wouldn't be here - when my father picked my mother up for their first date, he noticed her record collection and they stayed in all night talking and listening to music.  They were married maybe a year later, and I was the result of the honeymoon in Bermuda.
When my brother turned 11, my parents gave him a Fender Stratocaster that he still plays.  When I was 8, they encouraged me to pick up an instrument and it was then that I started playing the violin.  Not to mention being taught to use the voices we were blessed with - both my brother and I were chorus members throughout our entire school careers, with a couple rounds of All State Choir stints thrown in.  People still talk about my brother, my father and me doing trios in church.
Hammie now plays with Pop's band and it's like my father is standing there holding that Gibson guitar.  I haven't touched the violin since high school, but it still sits in my room and once I scrape together the money to get it back up to par - violins are finicky instruments, susceptible to the elements and neglect - I will make it sing again.
So I sat down to write today and I was going to start with the dream.  But it hit me - I am not ready to write about my father yet.  I don't think I even addressed his death in my personal journal; if I did it was more of a statement and I stopped writing for a while.  No one wants to relive the tragedy of losing a parent so sudden and unexpectedly.  One day I will be strong enough, but I feel like it needs to be soon.  It's not a matter of enough time passing (it's been about two and a half years,) but a matter of whether or not my head and my heart are ready.
Writing about my father will be like opening a giant can of worms.  You can't focus on the good things alone when writing for your life.  This can sits in front of me, waiting, beckoning for me to open it.  It's only a matter of time.  

We Can't Let the Music Scene Die

What happened to being able to go hear local bands in your favorite bar minus the pretentiousness?  The Big Kahuna is extinct, and most of the other bars that provided a decent venue for bands to play have moved away from that scene.  So those of us music lovers who just want to rock out every once in a while are left with slim pickings or making the 30 minute + drive up to Philly.
On the plus side, Wilmington does have World Cafe Live at the Queen, a relatively new, two-in-one venue on Market Street where one can go to hear local bands and big names as well.  There's ample room, you can sit at a table and eat while listening to a band play and there's usually more than one event going on at a time.  You can play Quizzo on Monday nights or catch the 4W5 Blues Jam every Wednesday.  They've hosted the likes of The Pixies, George Clinton & the P-Funk Allstars, and the Bob Marley tribute band Spokey Speaky.  Not to mention Beer & Wine events, kid shows and you can book private parties.  I've only been once, but a few of my friends have played the stage there.  I'm thinking of catching Ozomatli on the 25th of October.
There's also Moodswing, which opened up last fall and is right down the street from my house.  It's in an unlikely location for a nightclub, but typically hosts a packed house every weekend.  I've been a few times when they've had live bands.  September 25th they hosted The Dirty Pearls (one of my favorite bands) and Bret Michaels.  (Yes, I was there.)  Moodswing is a good place for the beach bands to play during the off season.  I've seen Kristen & the Noise, Mr. Greengenes, Chorduroy and Love Seed Mama Jump there on Friday nights during the winter.  They offer all kinds of VIP packages and event specials, click the link for more info.
Okay, so there's Firestone Roasting House as well.  Situated right on the waterfront, the outside bar and seating is really nice.  But it's really only good in the summer.  If you don't mind huge crowds.  They typically have live bands on the weekends, the same ones that play Moodswing during the winter months.  Again, if you don't mind huge crowds.  Or anywhere from a $10 - $20 cover charge.  (I don't know how or why, but the head bouncer never takes my money anymore.  Maybe because my sister in law and I have frequented the place enough over the past year, or I inadvertently flirt with him and he likes it?)  It's always a mixed crowd which is nice as opposed to the monotony that is prevalent in a lot of other places.  Great food too, by the way.  You can go for dinner and stay for the music.  Try the pizza - it's out of this world.

That's three venues that are still making an effort to keep the music scene alive.  There used to be so many more.  The fact that there's people out there who play music for fun and do it well should be celebrated and promoted as much as possible and I know I'm not the only one who feels this way.  I also know it could be so much worse and I could live in a town where there's...nothing.  For now I will be satisfied with catching a decent live band every once in a while, or making that trek up to Philly when the mood strikes me.

You Can Still Be A Sexy, Crazy Bitch In Comfy Clothes - Buckcherry at Xfinity Live! Philadelphia

Last night I was sitting on the couch in yoga pants and a hoodie watching Happy Feet with my nephew and scrolling through my Twitter feed.  I happened to come across a tweet from Buckcherry and learned that they were playing a free show at Xfinity Live! Philadelphia.  "What?!  How did I not know about this?!"  Jay was on his way over because the plan was to veg out and watch scary movies.  That changed real fast.  I shot him a text - "So Buckcherry is playing at Xfinity - let's go!"  "Ok."  I love that he goes with my flow.

So I threw on long johns under a pair of jeans, (the show was outside,) my Doc Martens, and ran a brush through my hair.  There was no time to slut it up, being that we live about a half an hour from the sports complex, the gate had already opened, and it was cold outside.  We missed Lit, but made it well before Buckcherry went on.

We got there around 9:30, and on top of free admission it was free parking.  Score!  Was I thankful for the long johns I had put on?  Yes.  It was quite humorous watching all those women freezing their asses off and having trouble walking around on the brick/concrete ground.  For as crowded as it was, it was pretty easy to get to the bar as well.  Another score.  And I really can't say I minded spending over $6 for a Coors Light when I didn't have to pay an outrageous amount of money to park or see one of my favorite bands up close and personal.
The show itself was great - Buckcherry rocked the house.  I expected no less, dancing around in my Docs, the previous night's makeup, and showing my support for Concord high school's football team with my hoodie.  I think the last time I saw these guys was back in 2010 at the Wells Fargo Center.

It just goes to show you never when your night will take a turn for the awesome.  I was planning on laying on the couch in sweats while watching movies.  I ended up seeing one of my favorite bands, for free, and getting the chance to say hey to Josh Todd and Stevie Decanay.  Pretty fucking cool.  They love their fans and know how to make us all feel sexy, even in comfy clothes.

You never forget the first rockstar to reach down your shirt and cop a feel.

Guitarist and photographer extraordinaire, Stevie Decanay.

The Bar Scene, It Is A-changin'...

...at least the one in Wilmington.  Tyler, Andy, Geeta and myself all went out to dinner the other night - the first time the four of us have been together all summer - and then decided to head over to Trolley Square.
I don't frequent Trolley as often as I used to, mostly because the scene has changed over the years, for better and for worse.  It's still a good place to grab lunch or dinner because you have a plethora of dining establishments to chose from, and all of the ones I've eaten at - which is most - have some damn good food and nice atmospheres.  But the nightlife has become...different.
When I was in my early twenties my girls and I used to rule the dance floor downstairs at Kelly's Loganhouse and there were times you could catch decent bands in the bar upstairs, but over recent years management has changed hands.  The dance floor has more or less become nonexistent and the amount of concert series performed there has dwindled.  (If there is one, the advertising is so minimal you'd only discover it was going on if you happen to be there on a random night.)
Now one of the only places that has a DJ is Catherine Rooney's, on Saturdays.  And I can't stand it.  On a regular night it's a good place to hang and get some food, I believe Thursday night is still Martini Night.  But it gets so crowded on Saturday nights that it's damn near impossible to get a drink, much less maneuver through the crowd and make yourself a little room to dance.  There's also Club 3.  If you like house music.  And well, sometimes house music is hard to dance to.
I'm not even going to go into how much I hate the music the DJs play these days - I'm sitting here shaking my head.  What ever happened to R&B?  Jams you could dance to as opposed to what I could only describe as wannabe gangster rap with some jackass declaring "Yo that shit cray," and every where you look you'll inevitably see brand-new 21-year-olds humping each other like they're having awful, strange, awkward sex.
As far as the people go, maybe I just didn't notice them when I was younger.  Maybe I was one of them, I don't know.  Girls dressed to the nines in heels they can't walk in and more makeup than Motley Crue circa 1987.  Oh right, they're trying to get laid.  Yikes.  The guys aren't much better, walking around in matching neon polo shirts, trying to get laid.  Everyone has their cell phone in hand and acting like they're texting someone more interesting than the scene going on around them.  They probably are, because anything is more interesting than the scene in Trolley Square.
Damn I sound old.
Maybe I was the same way when I was younger.  Maybe I notice it more because I don't go out looking to get laid.  I can do that with one phone call, thanks.  Maybe it's because I just spent the majority of August reveling in the Dewey Beach bar scene, which, granted, is somewhat similiar but with a larger age range.  (I like my men a little older anyway.)  Maybe that's more tolerable because it's summer time and everyone is a little more laid back, the bars are bigger and if you don't feel like being stuck in a crowd you can relocate to a different one where you don't have to fight your way to the bar and struggle to get the bartender's attention.  And if you see a girl throwing up on a side street or a guy being carried by his friends you just shake your head and smile, "Uh-oh, looks like they couldn't hang in Dewey."  Maybe because down there you can find decent bands playing every weekend and it's hard to find a DJ spinning music that he's adding his own "style" to therefore you're just listening to a train wreck happen.
But I digress.  The caliber of people that you find in Trolley Square on a weekend night has changed drastically, and it's just not fun anymore.  It almost seems like everyone has a chip on their shoulder, or is desensitized, or just plain trying too damn hard.  Maybe it seems that way because I was for the most part sober the last time I was there.  Or maybe I'm the one who's desensitized.
Damn I really sound old.
Maybe I just prefer the beach scene, or the Philly scene.  Shit, even New York, although I don't get up there as often as I like.  I don't have a reason to wear my slutty rock & roll gear out  in Wilmington.  This town is too trendy for that.  Even my usual watering hole was a different crowd that night.  We barely recognized anyone in the place, which was odd for us.  What, I go away for a month and everything changes?

Go Ahead, Make A Bad Decision

One of my favorite bands, The Last Vegas, released a new album on August 28th.  For a good dose of sleaze rock, my suggestion is buy it.  It's available on Amazon and for download from iTunes.  

I've kept close tabs on this band since 2009, when I saw them open for Motley Crue on the Saints of Los Angeles tour, and have even been lucky enough to hang out with them a few times.  All I can say is theirs is the kind of rock & roll this world needs more of.  They offer up a heavy combination of glam, sleaze and metal, along with a stage presence that oozes sex.  While you can pick up on their old-school rock influences, the music is a breath of fresh air compared to today's mainstream garbage that is over processed,  over tweaked and over auto-tuned to the point where it can hardly be defined as music by the time it hits the listeners' ears.  The Last Vegas knows what true rock is all about and have a damn good time spreading the word.

The boys at Rebel Rock Bar in Philly, August 24th, 2012.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                 So while you're having fun making a few Bad Decisions, I highly suggest picking up...whatever else you can get your hands on by this smokin' hot band, most of which is available on iTunes.  You won't be disappointed, I promise.

Follow The Last Vegas on Twitter here.
Like them on Facebook here.

Holy Shit We're In the Second Row

My second 311 show of the summer was at the PNC Bank Arts Center in Holmdel, New Jersey, about two hours from my house and 45 minutes from one of my best friends who lives in Clifton.  Since VIP packages were not offered for the Philly show, I went scored them for this one and paid out my ass for Platinum VIP tickets for her and I.  Included was a meet & greet, pictures, front row seating and merchandise.
It was the day before my 29th birthday, so I considered this show a continuation of my birthday celebrations.

Jenny and I in the parking lot.

I got to Jenny's early in the afternoon and we headed down to the pavilion to get in some tailgating before the show.  (I was surprised to learn that Jenny really isn't into tailgating, but the both of us had a lot on our minds at the time so it wasn't a big deal.)  It was also one of the hottest days of the year, and I was so paranoid about giving sweaty hugs to all of the band members.

I kept getting more and more nervous as it came time for us to meet the band.  This was the first time I was coming face to face with the people who create the music that has been the soundtrack to my life for over ten years.  I was afraid I would start gushing and not be able to control it, I was afraid of making a fool of myself, even a little concerned that I might throw up.

"Holy shit I can't believe we're about to meet this band!"
"I know, right?"
"I think I'm going to puke."
Jenny looks at me incredulously.
"No, you're not.  But there is a trash can over there."

Tim Mahoney signing Jenny's poster.

The entire time we're in line I'm reminding myself to breathe.  And I'm sweating.  Like a whore in church.  We're all sweating.  I could feel it dripping down my back and between my boobs.  Nice, I'm going to meet 311 and drops of my sweat will be smearing the sharpie ink as they sign my poster.

I had managed to collect myself enough to not act like a fool once I got up to the table.  Surprisingly, it didn't all pass by in one big blur.  I walked up to the table, put my poster down, and just grinned at Tim Mahoney.  He grinned back, but I couldn't find my voice.  How do you tell someone who has no idea you even exist that you adore them without sounding like a weirdo?  Luckily he broke the silence that was about to become awkward.
"Hey!  I'm Tim!"
He holds out his hand and I take it, shaking hands with my second rock legend in less than a week.
"I...I know who you are!  I...I'm Dana!"
As he signed my poster, I thanked him for all he does as a musician and that the band's music has been such a huge part of my life.  He looked up and saw how overcome with emotion I was, then promptly stood up and gave me a huge hug.

Nick, Chad, SA and Pnut.

Nick Hexum was sitting next to Tim, and I told him the same thing, that I can't believe I got the opportunity to stand there and tell the band I love how much their music means to me.
"You guys are what make it possible for us."
Chad Sexton was sitting next to Nick, and I went through the same spiel, thanking him for doing what he does, and grinning like a fool while he signed my poster.
"Your friend said you're going to throw up.  Please don't."
"I think I'll be okay, I've made it this far."
"Ok, good."
By the time I got to SA I was on the verge of squealing like a fangirl.  My face hurt from grinning so much.  I did manage to tell him that my brother and I see them in Philly every summer to celebrate our birthdays.
"That's so cool, when is your birthday?"
"It's...um...Oh my God!  It's tomorrow!"
Yes, I had actually forgotten that my birthday was the next day.  The guys all wished me a happy birthday and SA wrote it on my poster.
I turned to Pnut and he gave me a big, goofy grin.  We shook hands and as he added his signature to my poster I gushed on, again, thanking him for all the band does, the music, the shows, the all-around positivity that they promote.  That's when I started getting emotional and could feel tears welling up in my eyes.  I actually just stopped talking mid sentence, Pnut abruptly stood up and gave me a huge hug.

We then took our places in line again to have our pictures taken with the band.  Since Jenny and I were the second to last for the signing, we were second in line for pictures.  Much to my delight, Tim latched onto me as soon as we walked over.  (I have a special place in my heart for that man.)

Nick, Jenny, Chad, SA, me, Pnut and Tim.

What I call the blooper photo.

As you can tell, I was in Heaven.  I mean, all you can see is my teeth.  It was by far one of the best nights of my life.

Oh, You're Such A Dirty Sexy Pig

I discovered this band last March at the Croc Rock up in Allentown, PA when they opened for Charm City Devils.  They're a rock and roll quartet out of New York City, and it wasn't until I saw them play again the day after Thanksgiving down in Baltimore that I realized I was missing out, so I bought both of their albums, (as yet unreleased under a major record label,) and a tee shirt as I chatted up the band's manager.



Rockin' my Sweet Cyanide tee. And yes, I'm in the bathroom of a strip club.



Dane's Discography Breakdown

Their first self-titled release under Breakdown Lane Music is edgy and catchy at the same time.  Vocalist Sal Soca has a voice that fits the rock and roll genre perfectly.  The band's musicianship is tight, and in my personal opinion, they just fucking rock.

"And all I'll say is don't let her get in your head -

cuz when she goes down

She's a suicide love machine

Like it or not she'll do what she pleases

She's a suicide love machine

living it up in daddy's big dream"

Songs worth a listen - SLM, Black & White, and Between Us (which puts the relationship I have with my Drugstore Cowboy into wonderful, musical perspective.)

Their second release, Sweet Cyanide II, under Breakdown Lane Music is just as good, if not better, than the first.  The intro, Pay the Piper, sets the mood for the rest of the album and leads flawlessly into the second track.  The same tight musicianship can be found on this album as well.  Some of the songs are lengthy, but they don't get boring or repetitive.  They experiment a little more, and it enhances the listener's experience, like the ending of Walk On Water.  It's a little darker, lyric-wise, but still catchy and addictive. (I've been stopped in my tracks several times while listening to their music because there are songs that hit me right in the gut.) Seriously, it's the first thing I listen to when I get into the car to head to work before the sun comes up.

"Pull, pull, pull the trigger

Shoot me down when I need it

The hardest part of this

Is saying no"

Songs worth a listen - Bad Jesus, Cooler Than A Car Crash, and Dirty Sexy Pig.

I'm a big fan of multiple tempo and key changes within a song, and Sweet Cyanide do a very good job in this department.  They don't tamper with as many key changes, which is fine because I think that's a music tool that should be used sparingly, but they nail pulling off changing up the tempo in a song with grace.  311 is another band who uses this technique, and uses it well. 

Now, if you know anything about me, you wouldn't be surprised to learn that I noticed this guy first.  I had never heard of the band before, but that's one of the reasons I love to go to shows/concerts.  The opening acts usually spark my fancy and new music is immediately added to my collection.

The first time I saw Sweet Cyanide play live, I wasn't really paying attention.  Okay, okay, my girl and I were busy getting drunk, scoping out the scene and gearing up for Charm City Devils (who are definitely worth a listen.)  After their set I had my eyes on the bass player, (more like my hand on his crotch, but it's all the same isn't it?) and I chatted with the drummer and their manager about the band and the upcoming show they had in Dewey Beach, which is my stomping ground. 



Mike Bambace (drums,) me, and Angelo Fariello (bass)



My second show at Rams Head Live sealed the deal for me.  And yes, I did tell the bass player that I would like him in my pants.  Can you blame me?  Look at this motherfucker!  Those dark, Italian eyes?  That hair that's just begging to be pulled?

Bottom line is, check them out.  With all the bullshit we hear on the radio these days, I'd say Sweet Cyanide is keeing it real in the world of rock and fucking roll.

Someone Read My Mind

Since I am such a head case, I always have to make sure I have things planned that I can be excited for.  Otherwise my mind starts to idle and the demons inside come out to play.  So I thought I'd share that I am going to this come hell or high water.  I mean, how can I not when it combines two of my favorite things, Buckcherry and Jagermeister??

Also, Sweet Cyanide has a show in NYC this Saturday night that I really, really,  really want to go to, but I'm not hiking up there without a partner in crime, and my friends, well, can really suck sometimes.

Then the Neighbors Would Start to Trickle Over

When I hear the beginning guitar strains of Rocky Raccoon, I'm transported back to when I was very young, and all was well and good within my family.  At least that's what it looked like to outsiders. 

My father had been in a band called New Beginnings from before I was born until I was about 10.  He was very close with the guys, my mother was close with all of their wives, and my brother and I grew up tagging along with my dad to band practice and playing, (read:  getting in trouble,) with the children of various band members.  Every summer we'd have a "New Beginnings" cook-out, even long after they stopped playing as a band.  They were all very talented musicians, and after the food had been put away, the sun would start to go down, out would come the instruments and the jam session would begin.  An acoustic guitar or two, one snare drum, an acoustic bass, no mics, a tambourine, and Danny's trumpet (they could cover Chicago tunes like it was no one's business.)

When I learned that the Beatles' music had been released to purchase on iTunes, this was the first song I added to my cart.  (Yes, every album they ever made is upstairs, boxed up in the closet of the spare bedroom, but I don't know where the record player is and I don't have the energy to convert vinyl to digital.) 

I hear the opening notes and Paul McCartney's storyteller voice start - "Well somewhere in the Black Mine hilltop of South Dakota there lived a young boy named Rocky Raccoon..."


I immediately picture my father sitting on the back deck, plucking at his guitar, surrounded by old band buddies and all of our families. I was too young to ever pay attention to the words or grasp the irony of the story being told within the song. But I would sing along nonetheless.

"But Daniel was hot, and he drew first and shot..."

I picture him, not the adulterer, not the alcoholic, but my daddy, the man who still calls me Angel, the man who would take my brother and I on Saturday morning errands in his little red truck, blasting Styx or Boston while doing his over-exaggerated version of air-drumming on the steering wheel, doing his best McCartney impression, forgetting the words, (no pun intended, really,) chuckling his way through the song, because I swear Doc, it's only a scratch.

I hold onto this song and the memories I've attached to it so tight.  It's the only thing I've got left.

"Gideon checked out, and he left him no doubt, to help with good Rocky's revival..."

Please Tell BMTH Not To Wash Their Dicks

So I discovered this band over the summer. Not my typical style of music, but damn. Okay, I'll be honest, I saw him first, and my curiosity was piqued. I mean, fuck. The things I wouldn't do to this boy.

I tentatively started checking them out, making absolutely sure I wanted to spend something like $25 on iTunes for their sophomore album, Suicide Season Deluxe Edition. I dig it. And once the new album, There Is A Hell Believe Me I've Seen It, There Is A Heaven Let's Keep It A Secret, dropped, I was hooked.

Before the third album came out, I was super-hesitant to categorize this band as "metal." The first album, Count Your Blessings, maybe. But seriously? I can't resist that throaty, sexy growl of his.  Sykes' "Ohhwhhh!" is like the heavy metal version of Andrew Dice Clay's (and I know you know what I'm talking about.)  It's so hard to believe all that screaming and growling comes out of that pretty little mouth of his. But I'd have to say the only reason I hesitate to declare them officially "heavy metal" is the teenybopper-esque following that Oliver Skyes has gained. It's quite sickening. I will not put this band among the ranks of Metallica, Slayer, Judas Priest or Iron Maiden simply because of this fact.

Dane's Discography Breakdown:

Pretty good. The most "metal" out of their three albums, I'd say. Lots of fast guitars and drums.

"I whispered in her ear:
You better fear me dear, for I am Death,
And I'll take that shit you call a life,
In a single fucking breath

I'll take your hope,
I'll take your fucking dreams,
I'll take your love,

         I'll take everything you fucking bitch."

More of a trainwreck, but makes for good party music, especially the Cut Up! disc that comes with the deluxe edition. Some songs make me go, "Aw, c'mon boys, my ears are not trashcans!" but with lyrics like
"Party til you pass out
Drink til you're dead
Dance all night til you can't feel your legs"

with some angst such as

"If I had it my way
I'd slit your throat with the knife
That you left in my back"

And of course there's

"After all the shit you put me through
  I should have fucking pissed on you"

thrown in for good measure, it's kind of irresistable.

The boys I think have finally found their element. This album is more mature, very well-written, more melodic and holy shit, I cannot wait to have dirty, angry sex with it blasting in the background. Plus the double bass drum licks are enough to get me wet between the legs every time.

"Let's play a game of Russian Roulette
I'll load the guns,
You place the bets."

The Beatles Songs [2010] (via markomello)

The Beatles Songs [2010] (via markomello): "

The Beatles Songs [2010] (via markomello)

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Tattoos, Part 2

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Via Fuck Yeah, Tattoos!

Welcome To This Groove

I can't get enough of 311. Their entire catalog is on my iPod, and I love shuffling through strictly 311 tunes. I could be in the shittiest mood, but if I put some 311 on, it improves immensely. Especially their new album, Uplifter. As corny as it sounds, that's exactly what it does - it's a damn uplifting album.

311's music invokes summertime memories of laying on the beach with my toes in the sand, nights spent with my dearest friends getting trashed or staying sober, the sun on my back and the smell of earth on my skin.

Their music plays throughout the soundtrack of my life. The night in Chula Vista with Jenny, watching them play in an amphitheatre set in the hills of southern California. Sweating through the entire Sprite Summer Music Festival in Virgina with Tara just to see 311 headline, on the hottest day of the year. Countless nights crammed into the Electric Factory with tons of other crazy 311 fans. And of course the nights under the stars at the Festival Pier on the Delaware River, dancing in the midst of people who feel the same way I do about 311's music.

It's a completely different love affair for me. This band doesn't fit into my dirty rock & roll category. Yes, Nick Hexum has a smile that can melt me from a million miles away, but for me, it's strictly about the music.

"Groove as your soul sings...spinning all around as we dust a melody...groove as your soul sings..."

311: What It Means To Me

I have a very hard time putting into words what the band 311 is to me. I've been a dedicated follower for about 12 years. I've seen them in concert 14 times in the past 9 years, and as long as they tour, I will keep on going to their shows. Whenever I bring up this band, people either love them or hate them. There doesn't seem to be much of the in-between. I remember when I bought their first album, Music, down in Ocean City, New Jersey, when I was 16 or so. My life was changed from that minute on.

My favorite song of all time: Do You Right, off of Music

My first 311 show was in Holmdel, NJ at the PNC Bank Arts Center with Incubus. It was Father's Day 2000. Me, my brother, and two friends of our's drove up to central NJ in a guy's 1969 Firebird. Our seats were third row, stage left. And it was just amazing. The energy flowing through the crowd was electric.

It doesn't matter how many 311 shows I go to, I still get the same feeling in my belly when the lights go down and the band's intro starts up, and I can see Nick's, SA's, P-Nut's, Tim's and Chad's silhouettes moving into position on the stage. It's devastatingly uncontrollable excitement. Depending on the tour, the time of year, and which album has just been released, my brother and I usually can pinpoint which song they open with. This is a group of five guys from Omaha, Nebraska, who share some of the tightest musicianship I have ever seen. They feed off of each other's energy and inject it directly into their performances. Sometimes I just stop dancing in my spot just to stare in awe and take the whole experience in. It's better than any high I've ever had.




I've seen the band live in Southern California, Virginia, Washington, DC, New Jersey, and Philadelphia. I remember when tickets cost about 20 bucks and they were still playing at the Electric Factory in Philly.



One of the beautiful things about 311 fans is that we all know why we are there. We all know about the affinity we share for the music being played onstage. I can turn around in the crowd at any given moment and seeing hundreds of people all singing along to the same song. When the infamous drum solo begins during Applied Science, everyone goes still, and all eyes are focused on the stage. I don't care what anyone says, Chad Sexton is one of the best dummers of all time.



And if you don't know about the team-effort drum solo, then look it up on YouTube. It is show-stopping.






"My yin hates my yang but what the hell ya gonna do? It's a rocky-ass path but that's how I like it, Life's a bowl of punch, go ahead and spike it"

The Concert Timeline

My very first concert was at the Spectrum in 1997. Lauren's dad took her, Andrea and I to see Bush and Veruca Salt. We were thirteen.

When I was 14, my dad took my brother and I to the now non-existent Stone Balloon to see Reel Big Fish. They were one of my favorite bands, and still remain in the top twenty. They played at the Stone Balloon again the following year and I went with Samantha to see them.

At the end of my freshman year of high school, my friend Samantha had an extra ticket to the Y100 Feztival, so we got to leave school early and go to the E-Center in Camden to see Everclear and Green Day.

When I was 15, Samantha, Lisa and I went to see SILVERCHAIR and Lit at the Trocodero in Philly. We were so excited we couldn't help but act like retards. Samantha's mom dropped us off in Chinatown and we waited in line freezing our asses off for what felt like an eternity, smoking bootlegged cigarettes thinking it would help keep us warm. (See what I mean about retarded?) I remember having to pee so bad that Sam and I ran across the street to a Chinese restaurant to see if we could use their bathroom and when the hostess refused Sam started crying and she let us in. I'll elaborate more on Silverchair in another post.

My first 311 show was right after my junior year. One of the best.

That same summer I went to Warped Tour 2000 that was held in the parking lot of the E-Center in Camden, NJ with Bridget and her two younger brothers. It poured down rain as we were waiting in line to get in, and then didn't rain for the rest of the day. There were so many bands on the bill that I can't remember everyone that played. I do remember getting to see The Long Beach Dub Allstars, which I was ecstatic about because I never got to see Sublime live. Green Day was one of the headliners as well.

Oh so many concerts...I'm having a hard time remember them all. Taproot, Linkin Park, Disturbed, Incubus, Dave Matthews Band, Trey Anastasio, Liz Phair, tons of music festivals, tons of 311, Motley Crue, Buckcherry, and not to mention all the local rock bands that I go out to see every chance I get.

Stay tuned for posts about each of my concert experiences...

Buckcherry

I first discovered Buckcherry about ten years ago in the now-extinct Rainbow Records. I was browsing for CDs, not looking for anything in particular when I noticed the album art on their first self-titled disc.

I thought it was so cool that I picked the CD up, read the song list on the back and bought it, having never heard of these guys before. As soon as I put it on at home I was hooked. No-frills cock rock. LOVED IT. And that was the beginning of my obsession with this particular band. Especially Joshua Todd. Yeah, yeah, it's all the about the music. And believe me, it is. But I'm a horny groupie too so I can't help it! Josh Todd is MY King DirtyBoy Rockstar. I don't care what anyone says. It's in his look, his stage presence, that distintive voice of his. And two words: "The Cut."

Through the years Buckcherry has remained one of my Top Five favorite bands. I had thought they fell off the grid for a while after Time Bomb was released, but then my brother, of all people, played Crazy Bitch for me before it hit the radio stations. I of course ran out to pick up the new album, 15, as soon as I could. As well as a tank top with "Crazy Bitch" scrawled across the chest. I got my aunt one for her birthday too, because that's how we roll. That summer we wore those tops everywhere in Dewey Beach; she became known as "CB-1" and I was "CB-2."

It wasn't until the WMMR-B-Q in May 2007 that I finally got the chance to see them live. The 'R-B-Q is an all day musicfest put on by the local rock station I listen to. I was sitting at the kitchen table having my coffee when I heard that Buckcherry was on the bill, as well as Evanesence, Chevelle, and Velvet Revolver, so I quickly rounded up the troops for a day of tailgating and Rock & Roll. That day will have to be another post in itself. It was a fucking BLAST.

Three years later I finally got the chance to see Buckcherry headlining a tour at the House of Blues, and to meet the band. TO MEET THE FUCKING BAND. I went broke scoring VIP tickets and booking a room at the Showboat in Atlantic City for myself and two of my best girls and it was worth it. All I could think of was how bad I wanted to tell these guys the impact they had on my love for rock, that began over ten years ago. And make Josh Todd aware of the fact that I've been fantasizing about him since I was fifteen years old.

Being the diva that I am, I made sure I was going be responsible for a few jaws hitting the floor when I walked into the room where the band was. Actually the entire casino for that matter. A red satin corset trimmed in black lace, a black pleated skirt and knock-em-out-drag-em-down stilettos. Trust me, in the right outfit, you can do anything.

So we wandered around the casino until it was time for the Meet & Greet and I did my best to ignore the stares from creepy old guys. We were stoked up enough for the show that it didn't really matter. I was in groupie-mode and thank God I had my girls to keep me cool. I really didn't want to act a fool when it came time for me to be face to face with five guys that have rocked my world for so long. Especially Mr. Joshua Todd who has unknowingly participated in some of the filthiest scenarios my Dirty Mind (that's a song reference too!) has come up with. The PR guy handed out a 10x10 promo shot for the Black Butterfly album to all of us, and I had brought along a photo I've had of Josh Todd for years, when the only tattoo visible was CHAOS across his abs. This was back when Calvin Klein was running his "Dirty Jeans" ads. It hangs on my wall directly across from my bed to this day, but now it's adorned with his autograph.


Once we took our place in line, the next half hour or so was a blur. As soon as we we entered the same room where Stevie, Jimmy, Keith, Josh, and Xavier were sitting, I went weak in the knees. "Don't act a fool Don't act a fool" I kept saying over and over in my head. Then before I knew it I was standing face to face with the band I've been obsessed with for years. And I told them that. I handed the Calvin Klein ad to Josh for him to sign, and asked if he remembered it. Then I lifted up my skirt to give them an eyeful of the tattoo on my right thigh. I of course had to ask the guys to sign my tits as well, what groupie would forget to do that? They were happy to do so of course, and Josh even reached in to cop a feel of my right one, making that face that guys do so well that says, "Damn baby!" I think I even flashed one of the roadies because Keith told me the guy hadn't seen a nice pair of tits in years. We all then got our pictures taken with the guys, and I had my pose all planned out.

According to my girls, as I was walking away from the group after having my picture taken, Mr. Todd eyed me up and down like he wanted to devour. I didn't believe them. We ran up to our hotel room to drop off our stuff before the show started, and I collasped on the bed in a giddy heap, on Cloud 9. "He seriously looked at me like that?!" "Yes! I swear!" I was in heaven, and we haven't even seen them perform yet.

We made our way back down to the House of Blues for the show. And it was fan-fucking-tastic. It was a relatively intimate show, being that venue is not that big. I switched into "concert mode" almost immediately, and it was kind of hard for my girls to communicate with me because I was so into the show, sucking every ounce in possible and taking photos as well.

That was one of the best nights of my life. The concert was amazing. So hard to put into words. I also went to see Buckcherry open for KISS in October. I'm not a big fan of KISS, but I wasn't going to pass up a chance to see Buckcherry again. It was another amazing show as well; I managed to catch a guitar pick thrown off the stage by Keith, and my girl Kathy tossed a bra up on stage, which was fucking hilarious. I can't deny I was a little disappointed that their set was so short, but I guess when you open for a huge band like KISS, you take what you get and are happy to even just be there. I look forward to continuing my love affair with Buckcherry's music for as long as they keep cranking out albums. If I wasn't a Rock and Roll Princess before I discovered them, I sure as hell am now.

The Groupie Label

I'm sure I tend to come off as just another groupie. At least I'm a groupie who KNOWS the music. Who understands the muscianship between 3, 4, or 5 people playing together on a stage. One who has the albums from 10 or 20 years ago.

I picked up on Incubus when I was 16, before they hit it big. I'm not dissing or intentionally offending people who start following musicians when they hear a hit on the radio for the first time. I've done that too. As soon as I heard "Pardon Me" by Incubus I went out and got the album, along with previously released ones. I learned the music. I listened to it over and over again. I familiarized myself with Incubus's style, and their evolution as a band, from Fungus Amongus up to Morning View. Yes, I thought Brandon Boyd was incredibly hot. But what made him even more attractive was his songwriting. I met him at the Electric Factory after a show one night, and we held a full blown conversation amisdt the crowd of people that had gathered. I told him how much I loved the music. How it captivated me, and that I thought his style was unique. He listened intently, nodding and expressing his genuine appreciation of my fanship. There was no "Yeah, thanks, do you have a pen?" Other girls were grabbing at him as were talking and he completely ignored it. I wasn't gushing over his looks, I was tapping into a love we both shared, a love of music. I wasn't giving empty compliments either, and he picked up on that, which is why I think he gave me a few minutes of his time. The same goes for the rest of the band. Incredibly nice guys who were probably still in awe of their newfound fame. DJ Kilmore was an absolute sweetheat, joking with me and flashing a beautiful smile. They were happy to pose for pictures and sign autographs. I have a framed poster hanging on the wall that each member had signed, minus the drummer because he didn't come out.

Me with Brandon Boyd, circa 2001

I was at Incubus concert at Hershey Stadium in Pennsylvania a few years ago with two of my best girls, Jenny and Dara. The three of us were avid Incubus fans. We sang along to all the songs. And in between songs could not help but get a little excited over Brandon Boyd, especially when he took his shirt off. It was fucking sexy! There were three bitches behind us talking shit the whole time. I guess they thought the only reason we were there is because we were teenyboppers? Jenny and Dara managed to talk me out of turning around and slugging the ringleader of their little group.

I usually don't mind being called a groupie. Or a groupie slut. It's not hard for me to leave my mark if I feel so inclined when I'm at a concert, except it's quite difficult when the band is relatively mainstream or has a huge following like 311. Yes, I am a 311 groupie. But I do not want to sleep with the guys in the band. I would die for a chance to interact with them as humans, not false gods. The same goes for Billy Corgan.

I've got typical groupie stories. I fucking flew to Chicago for one night just to see The Last Vegas. And went broke to get the chance to meet Buckcherry. And stood outside of the Electric Factory to catch glimpses and autographs of various other bands. And I bought another copy of a Liz Phair CD so that I could meet her. I've lost count of how many times I've had my tits signed by musicians. It's all in so much good fun. Sometimes it borderlines obsession, (okay, sometimes it IS obsession) but I love my music, and I love when a musician can reach into my soul, or my pants haha, and grab it by the throat.

IT'S ALL FOR THE LOVE OF ROCK AND ROLL.

High Class Trash

It was during a Motley Crue concert, at the Borgata in Atlantic City, that I discovered The Last Vegas. Thanks to Guitar Center and Nikki Sixx, this band won a contest granting them an opening slot on the 2009 Saints of Los Angeles Tour. I had never heard of them before, but when they took they stage, and Chad Cherry started swinging his sexy ass around on that stage, I was hooked.

I kept saying to my friend, "Who the fuck are these guys? Why have I never heard them?" Their delightfully trashy and glamourous brand of filthy rock and roll sucked me in immediately. Catchy guitar riffs thanks to Johnny Wator and Adam D'Arling and the distinctive voice of Chad Cherry were mostly what caught my attention. And the fact that Chad moved around on stage so well that eventually I turned to my friend and added, "After the show is over, I swear I am going to GET him." That was the beginning of my love affair with THE LAST VEGAS.



Sure enough, after I walked out of the concert hall of the Borgata when the show was over, there were the members of the band hanging out on the casino floor. I went straight up to Chad, grabbed his crotch, and asked him if I could suck his dick. I got some inaudible response. My friend and I ran upstairs to our room to get changed, and when we went back down to the floor, the band was still there. I was bullshitting with Adam and Nate, the drummer, and still trying to get Chad up to my hotel room, when a member of the band's entourage literally dove in for the kill. It was explained to me that Chad was so drunk that he didn't even know his own name. He introduced himself to me, and I immediately thought, "To hell with Chad!" I did try to get the both of them up to my room at one point.

And....we'll just leave it at that.