My Maiden Voyage

If I could do it all over again, I would’ve been a musician.

Perhaps a struggling musician, perhaps a world famous musician, but I would’ve been a musician.

I love music, all kinds of music.

If you check out my collection of CDs, you will see everything from Billie Holiday to Eminem, Bryan Adams to Ryan Adams.

I also LOVE going to concerts.  

Something about it being live and unpredictable.

In my 43 years, I have been incredibly fortunate to see nearly every band I wanted to see.

Even acts I don’t know much about.

As a 16-year old, my friend Phil and I paid $5 each to sit at the top of the Hollywood Bowl to see B.B. King and Ray Charles.

Have you ever been to the top of the Hollywood Bowl?

No wonder those seats were $5.

But hey, we can tell our grandkids we saw B.B. King and Ray Charles in concert.

We couldn’t hear ‘em, but we saw them.   Barely.

A couple of years ago I took my wife to go see Metallica, a great concert band.

My wife is not much of a music person, although she claims to be a Barry Manilow fanatic, but lets just say Metallica wasn’t her thing.

To the point where she fell asleep at the show.  Literally.

I didn’t know it was humanly possible to fall asleep at a Metallica concert, but it did make for a funny moment when two kids in front of us turned around and said, “she is so wasted."

One of my biggest regrets is that I didn’t have the foresight to keep the ticket stubs from every show I have attended.

By the time I figured out what a great collection that would make, I had already attended at least 200 shows and it was too late.

Well tonight I returned to the concert world, erasing another name off my musical bucket list, Iron Maiden.

Say what you will about heavy metal -- and yes, I am a true fan -- but when it comes to the genre, there are not too many bands more successful than Maiden.

They have sold more than 80 million records and are still going strong.

If you don’t believe me, maybe you’ll believe the other 12,000 folks who attended the show on a Monday night.

The people sitting in front of us drove more than 500 miles to attend the show.

Unlike those people and most of the others, I somehow fought the urge to fork over $40+ for a t-shirt.

And what’s a concert with a drink.   

The beers ranged from $8.50 to $13 each or if you prefer a bottle of water, just hand over a five-spot.

Don’t worry, they’ll give you 50 cents back, along with your water.

While I would consider myself a fan of Iron Maiden, I wouldn’t say I’m a know-every-song kinda fan.

But considering our seats were ninth row in the center, I would’ve been happy to see Iron Maiden or even Iron Butterfly.

I attended the show with the drummer and guitar player from my own band, The Clearance Rack.  

(If you’ve missed a couple of my blogs, I am the lead singer.)

Tonight’s show really had it all.   A very cool stage, a crowd that was definitely into it and an energetic band that knows how to entertain, especially for a bunch of 50-somethings.

But the part I think I enjoyed the most was the people watching.

I would say it was about 98% male and two female.  Not two percent, but two females.

There was no shortage of hair, although I have a feeling much of it has been transfered from the top of the head to the chin and back since the first time they saw Maiden in concert.

With all the head banging tonight, there is no doubt there will be some sore necks in the morning.

But I didn't hear anybody complaining.

Then again, I couldn't hear anything at all.

Band Of Old Brothers

This just in, I GOT A JOB!!!!

More on that in 228 words.

Long story short, instead of taking the school bus up to my daughter’s retreat last week, I decided to drive my own car.  In my passenger seat was Mike, the father of my one of my daughter’s best friends, a man I had never met before.

In the two plus hours up, we had a chance to learn a lot about each other and I think we both like what we heard.

Like me, Mike is in his 40’s, so we had a lot of in common.

We both like sports, we both worship our kids and we both LOVE music.

Mike told me that he and his neighbors have become obsessed with the video game Rock Band.   Obsessed to the point, where he and a couple of guys from his block have joined together to make their own Rock Band.

When he told me that he plays the expert level on drums, I knew he wasn’t kidding.

I’m not even sure that Buddy Rich could’ve figured out the expert level on Rock Band.

Well after a few months of staring at the video screen late in the early AM, I guess they decided that it was time to try the real thing.

They had Mike on drums, Scott on guitar and Chris on bass, but one piece was missing from this midlife crisis.

A singer.

Enter me.  

On the drive up I made the mistake of telling Mike that I was the singer in a college band.

23 YEARS AGO!!!

Yes, I still sing in the shower.  In the car.   In the kitchen.  Pretty much anywhere I can, but I don’t sing in a band.

Until now.

Mike called me last night and said, “be over at my house in an hour for band practice.”

Yes sir.

Hey, I haven’t had a job interview in a while, so there was no way I was going to turn this one down.

I quickly rummaged through my closet and found my most-ripped up pair of jeans -- that’s what us rock stars do you know -- and I headed over there.

On the way, I stopped at the liquor store to pick up a 12-pack so that they knew I was serious.  That and hopefully the alcohol would inhibit their hearing in case I stunk. 

So I got there, met the band and we jumped right in.

Within a song or two, it was pretty clear that I had nailed this job interview like no other.   

I was waiting for Human Resources to make a formal offer, but instead it was Mike who casually said, “you got the job.”

Really.  

Awesome.

I guess the old guy has still got it.

“Our first gig is in two weeks at our block party and we need to learn four songs.”

So much for the fun and games.

We practiced with real instruments until about 11:00pm, then went back to Scott’s house to play Rock Band for another hour.

Are we wild or what?

Hey, it’s a job and that’s what us working people do.

Walk On The Wildside

I’ve got an iPod, but I really don’t need one.

There is always a soundtrack playing in my head, whether I am wearing headphones or not.

From Louis Prima to Lady Gaga, Iron Maiden to Toby Keith, and everything in the middle, I love music.

In fact, if I could do it all over again, I would’ve been a roadie for REO Speedwagon on the Hi Infidelity tour -- not that they asked.

Music has always been a major part of my life.

To this day, Nick Lowe's Cruel to be Kind instantly takes me back to summer camp in 1979.

When I was notified of my dismissal, U2’s Walk On helped me, well Walk On.

And at Ground Zero in New York last week, Bruce Springsteen’s Empty Sky definitely made an incredible experience all the more memorable.

Since adding Unemployed to my resume, my morning schedule now starts with an hour on the elliptical machine and a little bit of weights, all the while listening to tunes.

I use a very cool feature called the genius playlist, where you pick one song from your music library and then it plays 24 more just like it.

If I select Natalie Merchant as song #1, Sinead O’Connor won’t be far away.

If I’m in the mood for Eminem, Coolio or T.I. are sure to follow.

This morning, Bon Jovi’s Bad Medicine was the doctor's order. That triggered Aerosmith, Guns N’ Roses, Metallica, Poison, Skid Row, well you get the idea.

About 48 minutes in came one of my favorites -- Wildside by Motley Crue.

While I definitely enjoy that song, I couldn’t help but think of my connection to it.

It must’ve been around 1989 when my buddy Jeff and I stopped at a Los Angeles bank to pick up some cash at the ATM.

As I parked my 1982 Olds Omega right in front, we both saw an odd looking man walk in front of my car, headed into the branch.

We looked at him. He looked at us. We looked at him. He walked into the bank.

As the glass door closed, Jeff and I watched the man use his left hand to pull a bandana over his mouth, then used his right hand to lift up a gun.

A real gun. There was no Punked in 1989.

The entire time, Motley Crue’s heart-pumping, head-banging, guitar-blazing song was blaring through my speakers, only adding to the drama.

Our immediate reaction was to drive to the bottom of the parking lot, about 150 yards away and call the police from the pay phone.

(Note to kids: in 1989, when you were out and needed to call someone, you used an apparatus known as a pay phone by inserting coins into a slot, dialing the number and hoping that somebody answered.)

By the time we got out of the car and dialed the police, the man had already finished his business in the bank and was running directly at us.

Or so we thought.

When you are calling the police to report a bank robbery and the robber is sprinting in your direction, you don’t ask questions.

It was like a mix of Jesse James and Jesse Owens.

As it turned out, he never got closer than half way, cutting through a store and into what was probably his getaway car in a back parking lot.

Of course, by that time, with Wildside still going, we used my speed machine as our getaway car, getting as far away as possible.

As a 22 year old, it was quite the rush.

Now 20+ years later and out of a job, I look back with a much different perspective.

What must've been going on in that man’s life to make him do it?

What kind of desperation does it take to actually rob a bank, gun and all?

With more and more people out of work and out of money, I’m sure these things are happening more frequently than ever.

Fortunately no thought like this has EVER entered my mind.

I may not have a job, but I still have way to much to lose.

I’m not really sure if he was ever caught. Bank robberies don’t make the news in LA.

But thanks to him, Wildside will never be just a song to me again.