If I Should Fall From Grace...

Above, you'll see a picture taken at the Pogues concert Saturday night, St. Patrick's Day, at the the Roseland Ballroon in New York City. You'll see lead singer Shane MacGowan in the middle there, resplendant in his wheelchair. He fell down on stage in Boston the week before, tearing ligaments in his knee. Also great in this picture, you can see on the far right, whistle player Spider Stacy with his instrument on this particular tune, a metal beer tray. This is played by bashing it over your head in time to the music. Pretty cool.

Spirits were high this night, with my good friend CJ and I doing the Irish thing, enjoyed (quite) a few cocktails. All was well with the world. At the we had befriended a guy from Ireland and a woman from Sweden, whom we drank many more drinks with at the bar, before heading over to BB King's to meet up with some friends of his. On my way down the stairs, I fell, as the song goes, "arse over tit" and quite squarely landed on my ass.

I got right back up, no worse for wear and tear seemingly. (Although, truth be told, you probably could have shot me and I wouldn't have felt it at this point). We hung out watching the U2 tribute band "The Unforgettable Fire", and I got to know CJ's friend Samantha a little bit. I was amused by the presence of Hi Pitch Eric and Richard Christy from the Howard Stern Show. CJ's friends were kind enough to give us a ride home to Jersey City (just through the Lincoln Tunnel). I crashed on the couch and woke up, um, let's say, in serious pain.

It felt worse and worse as the day went on, and the long drive/sit from Jersey to Providence was pretty excruciating. Thank God for Sirius for getting me through that. Today I laid low, but upon arriving at work this afternoon, it was too much. I headed over to the walk in clinic around the corner and found, to my surprise, I didn't break my tailbone, but instead slightly herniated a disc, and tore a ligament, plus lots of bruising. Yeay. I wish it was slightly higher or lower, so I could roll around in a wheelchair like Shane or Vince McMahon circa 1998. That would be cool. Unfortunately, to sit is very painful.

They gave me vicodin and ibprofen. I haven't busted into those yet, but I've got another 1 1/2 hours of work to get through. I was given a 5 day no work order from the doctor, but I'll be coming in this week anyway. I can't see just screwing around for a whole week with nothing to do.

So yeah, I lived up to the proud irish tradition of drink, music, broads, and injuries. And the Auld Triangle went jingle-fucking-jangle all along the fucking banks of the fucking Royal Canal.

My Rock and Roll Hall of Fame

There's not many things that get to me emotionally. Close family, friends, and rock and roll.

Far be it from me to be a corporate rock bitch. But, every year, I tend to tune in to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Inductions on VH1, typically broadcast several weeks after the ceremonies. There's usually a few (progressively fewer as the years go on) stellar moments that make me feel alive. Neil Young with the Pretenders on "My City Was Gone". Paul McCartney reading a letter to his dear departed friend John Lennon. Prince, wailing away on While My Guitar Gently Weeps.

Tonight, VH1 classic broadcast this year's event live, as it happened. I caught it after work on TiVo. I saw some fantastic moments from Aretha Franklin paying tribute to Ahmet Ertegen, to my idol Keith Richards inducting the Ronettes.

I'm watching Zach dela Rocha induct Patti Smith as I write this. But it was the thing I saw directly before this that caused me to grab my laptop and write. It was a 10 minute collage of "Past Highlights". I saw Neil Young play with Led Zeppelin. I saw Eddie Vedder induct the Ramones. I saw Dylan and Jagger sing "Like a Rolling Stone". I saw Chuck Berry. I saw Little Richard. I saw Johnny Cash. I saw the Stones, the Beatles, Brian Wilson. I saw James Brown.

I welled up. I can count on 2 fingers the times I've done this in the last 5 years. When I was at a Paul McCartney concert with my parents, as he's singing "Hey Jude". I welled up with emotion then. When my grandfather died last summer, I cried then. Watching these men I don't know personally, but have touched my life and shaped it so deeply, I welled up. Most of you who read this will not understand, and that's fine. But this is my life, for better or worse.

It's Mike and I in the 6th grade talking about the Beatles. Maybe ridiculed by everyone else for our outdated tastes, but nothing touching our lives and souls like the music. The THRILL of coming across a shiny green Apple label White Album some sunny Sunday afternoon his mom took us up to Thayer St. to Tom's Tracks or In Your Ear. It's lying on the floor in silence in my bedroom late at night in high school listening to lost Smile tracks from the mind of Brian Wilson transmitted directly into our hearts and souls. We didn't need the fucking popularity. We didn't need the chicks. We had Mick. We had Keith. We had Neil. We had John and Paul. Fuck Them if they didn't understand. Fuck them still.

It's CJ and I bonding over Soul Asylum in Boy Scouts. Later it was the Ramones. And later still, it's next weekend in New York City with the Pogues.

It's Blake and me in his basement bashing away after school.

It's Jon, my teacher, friend, and hero going to shows, jamming, talking about music, living the music.

It's my life. I wouldn't change a fucking thing.

Stevie Nicks has soft hands.

It's been a while since I've done this. So, fuck it, let's go.

Random Stuff...

There are few things I enjoy more than the anticipation of going to a great concert. It's almost better than the concert itself. I've got the next couple of weekends lined up to see the Pogues. They're one of the greatest live bands I've ever had the pleasure of seeing. I'm going to see them in Boston on Saturday, and then a week from Saturday in New York, on the honest-to-goodness St Patrick's Day. This is awesome because I will officially have an excuse not to be peer pressured into going to Newport this year. Newport is the bain of my existance. Nothing goes right when I go there. Maybe someday I'll relate stories.

Anyway, on the 31st I'm going to see Lindsey Buckingham from Fleetwood Mac play up in Hampton Beach, New Hampshire. That dude is one of the best guitarists I've ever seen live. The dude is just insane, and totally underrated. The Fleetwood Mac show I saw a few years ago is within the top 5 concerts I've ever seen. It didn't hurt that I got hooked up with front row seats. Between Lindsey Buckingham's bad-ass guitar playing and Mick Fleetwood's insane drum/percussion/crazy ranting solo, (I got rained upon by his flop sweat and spit once or twice, which was pretty gross, actually) it was an amazing night. It was cool that I got to go with my mom too, she had a most excellent time. My friend Melanie was up in the lawn seating and got really jealous of me when she say me shake hands with Stevie Nicks on the big screen. Stevie Nicks has the softest hands of anyone I've ever met.

At the end of April I am going to see Cheap Trick at Lincoln Park. How it pains me to write the "Lincoln Park" part of that. It's a far cry from the 7 shows in two weeks me and Mr. Michael Fortes saw in 1998. On that tour, they did 3 night stands in major cities. On each night, the would play one of their first 3 albums in sequence and close out with a bunch of great tunes. We caught the Boston and New York shows, along with a stopover show at Lupo's in Providence which only cost $9.94! I got to meet everyone in the band, had Rick Neilsen and Tom Peterssen sign my laminate, and Robin Zander and Bun E Carlos sign a lyric sheet for "Daddy Should Have Stayed In High School" that I pulled off the stage. It now hangs proudly in my music room/office. I wish Cheap Trick would ditch the Casino/County Fair circuit and amp it back up in the clubs. Some great rock and roll went down in the late 90s. Bring it back.

I have a return engagement to San Fran-sicko also coming up in April to help my friend Liz celebrate the big 3-0. It's turned into a tradition at this point and it's been so much fun in years past that I really look forward to going back. It also gives me an excuse to go treasure hunting at Aeomeba Records, perhaps the greatest record store in the world. Be happy you aren't making this trip with me, as only Mr. Fortes himself could tolorate the 4 hours I'll probably be pouring over the contents of that place. This year should be particularly fun as the problems I had last year (work and "other") have dissapated for the most part and I'm in a pretty good place in my head at this point (all things considered). I'll probably get a chance to take in an A's/Yankees game when I'm out there too, if the Z man can hook me up. (Since he's the team photog it should be pretty bad-ass).

The anxiety I had over the big transition at work seems to have worked itself out, and I'm actually doing something now instead of "trying to look busy" which was the case during the first days of the merger. I'm hoping to not have to take on overnights, but, it won't be the end of the world. 4pm-Midnight is bad enough for now. I should be thankful, though. Between this job and my work at WPRO I'm making twice what I did last year at this time, and there's considerably less drama happening. I've somewhat softened my stance on the first half of 2006 in the last couple of months. It certainly had high highs and miserably deep lows. More lows that highs, probably. I did learn a hell of a lot though, and there's always something to be said for that.