Getting Older: The Concert That Could Have Been


 

Where I come from, concerts were hard to come by. I should stress that the local stuff was there, it was easy. It was the big names, they were the difficult ones. They required that you drive three hours to watch them. Heck, even the local ones required a half hour to an hour long road trip. It was a really small town.

So, for me, the culture of seeing live shows isn’t exactly engrained in my DNA. I didn’t do it enough then, to feel like I need to do it now. Don’t get me wrong, I like going to concerts, but I have to really want to go.

My wife and I had had a busy day, a trip to the dentist and other errands. We were eating dinner at the local hip music place to eat the foods. While I waited for my hotdog, I sipped my beer and looked at the wall with the gig posters. Down at the very bottom, far out of the gazing eye of the average looker was a poster for Windhand. I dig ‘em and have been listening to them a lot. Especially while I’ve been writing one particular project. I would love to see them live and here was my chance.

I looked at the date on the poster and it sounded familiar. A quick glance at my phone revealed the reason why, it was that very day. Not only that, but with a quick glance back at the poster and my basic math skills, I realized the doors were opening in eighteen minutes.

Our food probably wouldn’t be at our table in that time. We’d also have to go back home and take care of the dogs. Then catch a bus back downtown. Sometime in that amount of time we would have to buy tickets as well. For me, that was just enough logistical effort to pass up on the deal.

My wife, knowingly laughed at the defeat we were about to experience. She was down to go, but she knew, and was willing to admit before I was, that we were not going to go. We can be spontaneous, but this was a little out of our wheelhouse. Wanna go get some ice cream? Okay! Wanna go get a beer? Alright! And come home stumbling drunk? Wasn’t on my radar, but sure*! Wanna go to the library? Hell yeah! Wanna go to a doom metal concert that probably starts within an hour, still need to get food, eat food, take the dogs out, buy tickets, get there and may miss the opening act? Hmmm.

We didn’t go. Heck, we didn’t even try to go. I think I’d even forgotten about it by the time we got home. We took the dogs for a good walk and talked about comic books and graphic novels instead.

 


Next time Windhand, next time.

*Once or twice a year.

Music Streaming of Time: Color Me Badd


 

I’m one of those scum sucking chumps that subscribe to a streaming music service. Deemed scum sucker by some musicians because they have to get a zillion streams before they get a dollar. Labelled chump by cheap asses who only use soundcloud, bandcamp, or youtube. Personally, I love it! I thought I wouldn’t. Didn’t think it was fair to the musicians, but other options are worse. I don’t go to live shows much anymore either. I just figured artists should get some money – hopefully – for entertaining me.

Since subscribing, I’ve discovered tons of new bands and musicians. I’ve listened to stuff that I typically wouldn’t listen to. I’ve also tracked down the old stuff that defined my childhood. In this case, the pre-pre-teen years.

I was writing a post about being sunburned, and was looking for something different to listen to. Metal and jazz just didn’t seem appealing. For reasons barely knownst to me, I opened up Google Music and punched in Color Me Badd. It was one fluid motion. I didn’t have a spare second to comprehend it. A simple click in the search field and immediately, Color Me Badd, was typed and submitted. I chose their debut album.

It was like hitting eighty-eight miles per hour or making a call from a time travelling phone booth*. I was transported back to my childhood home. Back to christmas vacation 1991, I had a Super Nintendo with Super Mario World and Color Me Badd on cassette. From where I sat – on the floor in front of the TV – my fat child life was rad.

A menagerie of images from Super Mario World swam in my visual memory center cortexy lobe thing. The memories kept coming and so did the songs. I’m uncertain whether the album sequentially became less cheesy or if I was growing accustomed to listening to early 90’s poppy R&B.

One could say it’s a concept album, if the concept is the precarious balance of a committed relationship while maintaining a wanton sex life. All the hits were frontloaded and other than “I Wanna Sex You Up,” I’d forgotten them. Later songs, like “Roll The Dice” and the eponymous “Color Me Badd,” still creep up in my brain, sometimes. They weren’t hits, but they were catchy. The last recorded case was within the month. Which may be why I felt compelled to check out the band.

Did it hold up and was I enjoying myself? Yeah sure, why not. I wouldn’t buy it today, but back then, no one could have convinced my watermelon head otherwise. It was the bomb-diggity or whatever the kids were saying between twenty and thirty years ago. Time for their follow-up.

 


Has anyone else ever listened to the music of their past and had the thought, Donald Trump probably had sex while listening to this? It puts a damper on things. #novisuals

*To be clear, this is a Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, not Dr. Who. Hipster!

When the Going Gets Tough…

 


 

I walked into a public washroom the other day. A really nice one! It was big and had double digit waste removing receptacles. To get into the restroom, I had to walk through a door, that lead to an antechamber and another door – as antechambers are wont to do. As I stepped through the second door, as if on cue, I heard “Tuf-tuff-tuff Ha-hua-ha-hua.” After a few more seconds of phasey, Mutt Lange produced vocal samples, that cocky bassline from a jackass synthesizer kicked in. “Bwa-buh-buh-bwuh-buh-buuuuh-buh-buuuhh.”

Then Billy Ocean finally cut to the chase and started asking for consent to “touch ya and do the things that lovers do.” He described all the things he would do to “get it through to you.” He would “climb any mountain” and “do anything,” which is a bit sudden. I mean, he says he would climb a mountain, then loses his cool and says “anything.” Like killing a guy with a ski-doo, while wearing nothing but a pair of Justin Ropers’, and listening to Def Leppard’s Hysteria, on a jam box, out loud, isn’t off the table – if that’s what you’re into.

Anyway, I instantly thought that it would be hilarious if I were having some problems going to the bathroom*. You know, if I were having issues getting some forward movement because my diet isn’t high in fiber**. If I weren’t the well-oiled machine of digestion that I am***.

If one only listens to the chorus, the song goes well with any tough situation, where the tough must get rough. And there isn’t much more of a moment for that star to shine it’s brightest, then while leading a sortie on the affliction that is, constipation. Seriously, that is some rough shit and the song is that scenario’s anthem.

Anyway, I have a tendency to make myself laugh and it was hard not to start laughing at this point. As the first snickers echoed off the wall I realized, I wasn’t alone. I don’t know who was in there with me and hopefully, they don’t know me either. I was the crazy guy laughing in the bathroom. Fantastic!

 


Holy shit, Billy Ocean is from Chicago! I got some bad info when I was 8 and never updated it.

 

* I wasn’t!

** It is!

*** I am!

Three Punk Ass Things To Say About Danzig In A Very Respectable Manner


 

Some people really can’t stand Glenn Danzig. Maybe it’s his rather sizeable ego. Perhaps it’s the fact that he can pull off a fishnet shirt. It could simply be because these people can sense evil.

Regardless, I say screw those people! Let them listen to Sonic Youth in some sort of audible staring contest until one of them breaks. Danzig rocks and I like him just fine! I mean I wouldn’t want to hang out with him or have him over for dinner or anything. He is fine in the auditory realm.

 

Now Three Things That Hopefully I Don’t Get Punched For:

  • What have I been up to? Oh not much, just hangin’ out, listening to Danzig, and watching Gilmore Girls with the sound down.
  • Teacher says, “Everytime Danzig drives by an old person, there is an Elvis sighting. Followed by their souls being whisked off to hell.”
  • Yeah, but can you say that you’re friends with someone who was asked out on a date by Glenn Danzig.*

 


If you even snickered, do me a solid and share. Although, let’s not share this enough that I draw the ire of Mr. Danzig.

I mean all of this in good fun and wrote it while sincerely listening to, Danzig.

*I won’t name names, but at least I will find out if she is reading my blogs or not.