August shows

After returning from Reno/Tahoe, the band had some time off, though we were back playing San Francisco -- at Bender's in the Mission -- in early August. We shared the bill with new local original band Hellfire, an excellent band mixing thrash and classic metal with thrashing and pounding rhythms, scorching guitar work, and powerful vocals that soared and screeched operatically -- one of THE best singers I've ever seen live without a doubt.

The show was packed and the crowd incredibly energized till the very end. It was a beer-soaked metal fest the whole night through, one of the best shows I've had the privilege to play. For me, small as it may be in the great scheme of things, it was a kind of apex.

Later in the month, after a couple of weeks off, we played two shows in one weekend (not desirable for me at this age, but it was kind of a last hurrah before the end of summer). Friday Augst 26 found us at Applejack's in La Honda, CA playing a show for our drummer's birthday. Just getting to the show was an adventure. My wife and I drove down the Skyline Highway on a very foggy evening. When I say foggy, I mean that the coastal roads -- summer in the Bay Area! -- were enfolded in wet cloud masses, resulting in minimal visibility. When we rode into the coastal hills, we wound through dismal roads with fog resting heavily on the branches of tall trees. Though daylight still was shining, under the cover of trees it was deep dusk and closing in on night.

After many hours of winding through dark roads covered by thick, tall redwood trees, we arrived at Applejack's. A very old bar whose building apparently dates back to the late 19th cetury (when it was a carriage stop, some say -- it's hard to believe anyone was out there then since it's so sparsely populated an area now), it had a homey wooden atmosphere. The old hardwood floor (maybe the same floor built in 1879) gave slightly and creeked under your feet. It seemed odd in such a rustic setting to load in amps, drums, and speakers for a metal show at the back of the bar.

What did not seem inconsistent with the metal show atmospere was the scent of urine emanating from the men's room right near where we set up! Closer examination of the urine-soaked chamber revealed a broken toilet -- not a toilet that didn't work, but one with the side of its boal smashed... How did this happen? A sledge hammer? A particularly large bar patron sitting down? A defecation of unfathomably explosive force? Such speculations promised a wierd evening...

Greetings

It seems that people like to use blogs to chronicle various literal and virtual "trips" or journeys in their lives. If someone takes to the road, he or she now often keeps some virtual log of his or her travels. If one goes through a new life experience (embarking upon a job, going through a process of mourning, etc.), he or she updates readers regarding developing feelings and perceptions.

It seems to me I should have begun blogging my journey as a hard rock tribute performer (on and off, in big and small ways) long ago, but maybe it's not too late to start. I'm wondering whether I can spin something essayistic or casually philosophical out of my gigs.

For now, please observe me, at age 40, wearing my red Iron Maiden pants singing in Sparks, Nevada. This was a fun show, as we did not no whom, what, or how many people to expect. An medium-sized (around 60) enthusiastic crowd appeared to see us play after regional acts Soultorn and Ritual Moon (who were great and very kind to us). It was very old school -- lots of long hair, sweat, and Pabst Blue Ribbon. A particularly zealous thin long-haired fan jumped up on stage and poured Budweiser down the gullets of the band members (including me, between lines of bombastic verse penned by Bruce Dickinson and Steve Harris decades ago). Sauntering back to the Nugett in the warm night air -- still in red spandex pants -- and into the casino -- still in red spandex pants -- nicely capped the evening...

The next day I was able to sleep in, thanks to my mother-in-law coming along for the trip to help with childcare. The next day we spent mostly doing "family" activities like eating and splashing around with my daughter in the hotel/casino pool. The night before I had been swilling cheap beer and sweating on stage, and now here I was again a dad, feeling my age as I awkwardly sloshed through the warm water and padded flabbilly at the pool's side. After the pool, I felt tired, stiff, my knees worn out. I wasn't sure I was up for the night's show in Truckee.

Before that show, my wife and I stopped at a comparatively quiet bar -- not really very quiet, but much less raucous than the one at which we were scheduled to bring our 80s classic British metal costumed antics to a tiny, long-but-thin barroom. We sat a table and drank white wine and talked, which seemed antithetical to the show that was about to begin. I guess such a contrast typifies my life -- consantantly and abruptly shifting from relaxation or contemplation to intense performance of rather aggressive music. It's hard not to see such activities as manifesting a kind of split personality, but maybe that's dramatizing it a bit much.