Road Music

24 hours later and I’m still grinding away at that assignment. There is so much left to be done.

So of course I’m ending my night sitting in the cold, past midnight, watching road videos.

Does anyone do good road videos anymore? I mean like the sweaty, jaded, busted-ass music videos that so many 80s bands put out? Your Mama Don’t Dance, the clip I shared the other day, was just one of so many classics. It seemed like all hard rock bands put out one or two… before the 90s came along and people like Trent Reznor made music videos all about artistically rotting pig heads.

I think the old road videos were largely assembled as great big MTV ads for whatever tour the band happened to be staging at that moment. There were some, like Pour Some Sugar on Me and the aforementioned, which were bouncy and upbeat. However what I find notable is how many seem much less ad-like, and have that true touring air of resilience mixed with melancholy.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that they could also showcase groups of fit young men, working hard and being lonely. It made all the girls like me want to scoop them up and take them somewhere warm.

To the game you stay a slave…

The Not-A-Groupie Story

Those who know me and my husband well will know that there’s only one band which will make us both run around he neighbourhood giggling like idiots. That band is Lamb of God.

We learned today that Lamb of God is making its way back to these windy shores. They’re opening for Slipknot at Vector Arena in October. Personally I think that bill is the wrong way around, but Lamb of God seem to trundle around the world as a fairly low-ego band so I suspect they’re generally less concerned about top billing and more concerned about mortgages and food and shoes for the kids.

In any case, the news has brought back a flood of memories of the last time we saw Lamb of God at Vector Arena, when they opened for Metallica (also during October). Those were the concerts that introduced me to one of my very good show friends. Coincidentally, Rob and I scheduled our wedding almost 5 years to the day from those concerts, and so this coming concert will fall just after our 1-year anniversary. Rob has already decided that the Paper Wedding Anniversary should come in the form of tickets.

The news has also made me dig out an old entry in which I told the story of those original shows – how we had tickets for one show, but saw both, and didn’t end up using our tickets at all. How I learned all about Metallica’s load-in schedule. How we smoked weed with the crew guys but then Rob had a bit of a moment and needed to go home…

So here’s that (long) story, from back in 2010:

Continue reading The Not-A-Groupie Story

Like a bunch of refugees from a guerilla love-in

It was a long trip to collect all my prizes this afternoon – winding up past Helensville and back. The car was stuffed full. And what with Auckland traffic, it was well after dark by the time I got home.

I made a point to pick some upbeat driving music to help get me through the hours on the road… which is easier said than done, since my car no longer has a radio with an aux input so I have to rely on good old CDs… or the radio. Cough.

Sorry Dad.

Continue reading Like a bunch of refugees from a guerilla love-in

Bret, you’ve got it going on

It’s Bret Michaels’ birthday today. He’s 53.

I’ve riffed a little on this before, but one day I’ll sit down here and explain the vast and complex relationship I’ve had with Bret Michaels over the past 27 years (well, at least with a picture of Bret Michaels). It will sound insane, but it’s a fundamental part of what makes me me. Through him, I’ve learned about grace under pressure, persevering in spite of critics, and the benefits of laughing at myself. I wish I had his charm. And the greatest part is that he didn’t actually have to participate in our relationship in order for me to learn those things.

Tragically unhip. Sex obsessed and badly dressed. That is, and always has been, Poison. That is us.

1991

Continue reading Bret, you’ve got it going on

Youth Gone Wild

“How many singles were released from Ratt’s album Out of the Cellar?”

“In what year was Joe Elliot born?”

“Who was the drummer for Cinderella?”

… I got a new phone.

It was about time. My old phone was around 4 years old, and kept having little moments where it forgot it was a phone and thought it was a paperweight or a toaster or something. It was reaching the point where the choice was: a) get a new phone, or b) throw this one through the wall.

Continue reading Youth Gone Wild

Keanu Reeves might sue me

I’ve alluded to this story a few times in the past, mostly when people ask me the stupidest/weirdest/coolest thing I’ve ever done. In retrospect, of course: flying half-way across the world expecting a rock band to love me? Pretty weird. Believing that “I will never hurt you” text message?… Really, unbearably stupid. Getting to walk away (smarter and more humble) and tell the tales? Very cool… But those are long stories. Not the stories of one-sentence replies, nor the ones whose consequences I want to face in another person’s expression. Instead, I just shrug, and give a little coy smile, and say that I once mooned Keanu Reeves.

It was an accident. Sort of. It was partly Jon Bon Jovi’s fault.

But I realize that it’s not a story I’ve ever told in its entirety. It’s more enigmatic as a single sentence, and it makes people imagine all kinds of things…

Continue reading Keanu Reeves might sue me

Dirrrrty…

WARNING: Stay away from this blog, kiddies! I’m in a particularly explicit mood and you’re too young.

 

A couple of my crew are still teenagers. Young teenagers. They look a bit older than their years though, and it’s not until I’m trapped in conversation with them that I tend to remember just how young they really are. I dropped one of them home tonight, and she chattered incessantly in the car about her love life (imaginary), friends (probably real), and music (bands I’ve only vaguely heard of and care about even less). It’s hard to remember that I was ever so young.

She seems to be very much into Six60 at the moment, which I suppose is nice and cuddly… and hopefully the reggae beat doesn’t instinctively make her want to blaze up, as it does for me. She also insisted that she liked a lot of “older” music… like Nirvana… which made me want to cry because Nirvana are still irritatingly new to me. She also asked me what I used to listen to at her age.

Now, when I was her age I told people that the first album I’d ever bought was Guns ‘n’ Roses’ Appetite for Destruction. It wasn’t. Mostly I just told people that because I thought it made me sound cool. The first album I ever bought was Toto IV. I’m that old.

Continue reading Dirrrrty…

I don’t care if you smoke weed

No, seriously. That’s pretty much all I need to say.

I caught a group of patrons drinking and smoking weed in the parking lot tonight. And really I just care that they walked out of our (licensed) bar area into our (unlicensed) parking lot with open bottles of beer. That’s not ok, and we could lose our liquor license. But they thought I’d be mad about the weed and tried (rather badly) to hide it. Except I could smell it 50 feet away, and they all had some pretty wide stares on.

Continue reading I don’t care if you smoke weed

… with a lime green cowboy hat to finish.

A colleague at my previous job was a Def Leppard fan. I joked (rather cruelly) that it showed. It took her 9 years to finish anything, and then it was guaranteed to be over-produced as all fuck… Thankfully she laughed.

Another workmate followed up with the question of whether the same rule applied to Poison fans, and I retorted that I was indeed the quintessential Poison fan: sex-obsessed and badly dressed.

Also, really really uncool. But surprisingly okay with that…

Continue reading … with a lime green cowboy hat to finish.

Starry Dynamo in the Machinery of the Night

My most enduring memory of the whole thing was the pretty girl in the front row who handed Jani Lane a note (which he read out over the mic): “Jani how I love you, let me suck the ways”… Jani’s response was swift. “Get her a backstage pass!” he grinned. And we all hooted and squealed like baboons.

It was the 8th January 1991, and I was 12. ‘Cherry Pie’ was still on high rotation. Warrant were opening for Poison on the Flesh & Blood tour. The camaraderie between the bands was strong enough that CC DeVille actually played on ‘Cherry Pie’ (a fact that many didn’t realize at the time). There were so many great albums that came out in ’90 and ’91. Looking back, we didn’t really understand that that year was to be the big swansong for Hair Metal. For that last night: it was still magic.

Every Rose - bed Continue reading Starry Dynamo in the Machinery of the Night