the old days

Today some gay biker blog that thinks **** stuff is funny had a post of a long haired hard rock David Lee Roth-clothed guitarist playing in front of a Marshall stack. They wrote nice things about that old scene.

I never bought that image since I was a bit too punk rock but my old band had the hair and so did I. Today I was inspired by their post, and maybe by the beer, so I am strangely willing to share with you f***wads a photo taken in, um, 1992 or something.

The dude on the left is Dusty. He was a crappy guitar and bass player. He had a job so he had smokes and beer. Once we found chicks to do that, he didn’t last with the band.

Next is Tadd. He was about 19 when this was taken. He’d been in prison for some crazy sh*t for two years and taught himself to play guitar. He became our bassist. The best bassists are former guitarists.

I’m the a**hole with black fingernail polish. I wrote crazy love songs, played the guitar, had a sound engineering degree, and yelled at the top of my lungs all the f***ing time.

The dude with the rad mane next to me is my brother Scott. He played drums. In all the years I played rock in LAX, SFO and PHX, he was the only drummer I never had to instruct. He knew the right beat always.

The guy with the Zeppelin patch is some sap who either A) owned the van, B) had money for drugs, alcohol and cigarettes or C) all of the above. Nobody remembers who he was, nor who was with us that night to take the photo.

The best part is when you notice my brother has pulled his pants off to his ankles. No wonder the Zepp dude looks nervous.

Here is a song we played after Dusty “left” the band and it was Tadd, Scott and my crazy assed self:

my sensitive side << that’s a link, right click it and save if you dig the tune.

“i can’t comprehend the deal
i don’t need a.a. to feel
you can’t tell me what to do
shut up i’m thinking!
about truth….

like a cow that will be leather
greener grass won’t make it better
can’t you see i keep it together
for you…”

It was supposed to be funny. Groupie girls used to yell “SHUT UP I’M THINKING!” between songs until we played this one half way through our set. Finally, we’d just start the gigs with it and before we hit the stage we’d tell the bartenders to keep our free beers and give them to sweaty, wide-eyed chicks on us. Woo hoo! Free pizza and beer for practice tomorrow and stories about who got the best sloppy and well-intentioned BJ.

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