An unbelievable show at Club Nokia in down town LA. Syn and I rolled in to see an 11:00 start after “Hockey Night in Canada” came to LA. We were there in plenty of time (even said hi to Paul outside) and took our places on the front rail. As always, the Hip didn’t dissapoint.

Not positive about the setlist…but it was close to this:
NOIS
Depression Suite
In View
ABAC
Gift Shop
Morning Moon
Bob C
Nautical Disaster
Grace
Coffee Girl
Thompson Girl
Last Recluse
Wheat Kings
Poets
Courage
Family Band
Blow

E – Love is a First
E – Music at Work

Here’s a video of High Dough. I had a beer and couldn’t clap. I was just banging my free hand on the rail…and it hurt! …Gord was looking at me and telling me to put my beer between my legs so I could clap along. Sweet.

And here’s a vid of Gord eating off my head like a monkey after a NOIS opener. Great show!

It was a crowded, fun filled night of seeing one of my favorite bands with some of my favorite friends. From the moment our mullet-headed driver Mike pulled up in the 1989 White Licoln Continental Limo; the show; the parking lot; the final breaking and entering of our house by our slightly passed out 5 year old…it was all outstanding.

The holy grail is to spend less time making the picture than it takes people to look at it.
- Banksy

Where do I begin? Mike Root at Springfield College in Springfield Massachusetts, I suppose. He started this whole thing, truth be told. I remember walking across the hallway on the ground floor of Gulick Hall the first day of my freshman year and into the adjacent room. 127 I think it was, but I can’t be sure.

And there was Mike. Long (or longer) hair than any guy within a quarter mile and doing his best to pull off the late 80s Hetfield-esq goat-tee. (The one that the Edge would later rock to perfection on the album Pop). The din coming from Mike’s room made me smile immediately. Not because the sound was something I never really heard before but because anyone that played music this loud, especially this music, didn’t really give a shit what people thought. Plus he always smiled and giggled when he talked and it made people think he was crazy.

Walking into his room was like walking into a cave. Everything was black. The rug, the bed, the sheets, the curtains, the shade. The desk, the file cabinet, the coffee maker and, I would later find out, the coffee. Posters and magazine cut outs covered the walls. Bands with skinny white guys I had never heard of but pretended to were everywhere. A tiny tv; black and white in the corner looked lonely and out of place. And there were the axes. 4 in all. Lined up on stands against the wall.

It was like I walked backstage.  And there it was, the new and much more real world of heavy metal right in Mike’s 12 x 10 (prison) dorm room. Good bye spandex and hairspray; hello Metallica. Sensing that I liked what I heard, Mike played me the b-side of One: The Prince. Still to this day, a “relatively” unknown Metallica song. I remember being amazed that anyone could play guitar that fast. I was hooked on James, and Kurt. And sometimes, at the very beginning, Lars.

Don’t get me wrong, I was metal in high school.

Like everyone else that graduated skinny and middle of their class in white suburbia, I was into the usual suspects: The Crue, Poison, Ratt, Dokken, Cinderella and when I really wanted to dial it up, I threw on Winger. Specifically their cover of Jimi Hendrix’s Purple Haze. Looking back on that short episode in my life, the damage done to the real Jimi Hendrix part of my brain, could have been irreversible if it wasn’t for Metallica.

So thanks to Mike Root, I began listening to them. A lot. I have hours and hours of live shows. All their released stuff. I was never really fanatical, I just had a very special place in my conscience for this band because they were true musicians and they played fast as hell. Many tried to break in and take their place, but few even come close to the sheer volume that was blasted through my ear holes over the years. Countless nights through college and beyond were traded for listening to this band. Untold volumes of my life–lost because of 3 to 4 skinny white guys from San Francisco.*

Indeed, whole live tours I’ve listened to over the years. But the funny and somewhat ironic thing is I’ve never seen them live before.

____________________

Skip ahead 20 years to tonight.

It was me, Jace, Naylor, Mendoza and B Layne. We started out at Naylor’s house, got primed up there and headed to the the less-than fabulous Forum.

Mostly dressed in black and with no tickets, I didn’t want to get too excited as Jace and I had missed an opportunity earlier in the year the last time the boys were in town. But we all had high hopes this time around and it was tough not to get swept up in the fervor. We were pumped! And I personally, felt like breaking something. Which is why I continually punch Jace throughout the evening.

Once we arrived, and parked in the super-secret spot, we waited around the ticket office for a while until Mike got the bite he was looking for. Turned out to be Trujillo’s brother and we were both in for under face value! The first of many “Yeah Yeahs” were screamed across the inside of the Forum. We all got tickets and we all got in. Blame it on the unseasonable cold, but fate was with us. I was looking forward to losing my voice.

Once inside, Mike and I needed to get Jace and Bryan down to our seats. This proved a bit more difficult than previously thought because, in that moment, Jace forgot everything he ever learned about outwitting an usher. Thankfully, he remember quickly and didn’t make the same mistake one section over. Pretty soon we were all together with great seat 20 feet from the stage.

I tried a few head bangs and everything seemed ready to go.

We were all freshly hydrated and in a raucous mood. The hilarity hit full tilt when Naylor got his foot caught in a flipped up seat and couldn’t get it out for about a minute.

It was funny to everyone in the place except Mike, who we found out later was now bleeding and in excruciating pain. He pulled through though, because that’s what you do at a Metallica show.

Our seats were great. Eye-level with the band and up from the floor and all that craziness. Maybe a few years ago, but now I either want to be really close (read: back stage) or comfortable. Mosh pits came and went in my life rather quickly. That’s a different story.

Tonight the stage was “in the round” which I didn’t mind so much. It’s the circular stage where James, Kurt and Robert all rotate around giving everyone a good seat…or at least, that’s the theory.

I was next to Jace and, having the new album, were beside ourselves when the they took the stage a few chords into That Was Just Your Life.

Epic.

Truly a great show!

And there were explosions! What more could you ask for?

I can honestly say that I enjoyed every second of this night!

Setlist:
That Was Just Your Life
The End Of The Line
The Four Horsemen
Ride The Lightning
One
Broken, Beat And Scarred

Cyanide
Sad But True
Wherever I May Roam

(more explosions!!)

All Nightmare Long
The Day That Never Comes
Master Of Puppets
Fight Fire With Fire
Nothing Else Matters

Enter Sandman
- – - – - – - -
Breadfan
Motorbreath

“MetaliBalls”
Seek and Destroy

Extended goodnight.

*5 to 6 white guys from San Francisco called the Grateful Dead would enter a few years later to round off the rough edges and ultimately expand the frontiers of my musical ecosystem. Thus enabling me to always and confidently answer the eternal first-date/frat party question of “what kind of music do you like?” by the truthful reply of, “I like it all…from Metallica to the Grateful Dead.”

Tonight, I saw history. Barack Obama won the Presidential election. What a great night! G made hors devours and the three of us gathered in front of the TV to bask in it’s warmth and glow. In a strange way, as we watched a 50 something inch TV, it felt remarkably like the sixties. There was a feeling in the air that we were part of something. We took part in the process, and this time, the good guy won! It was cool. We let Kaiya say up but she didn’t last too long. Still real cute hearing her say Barack Obama though.

There were a few key moments that I will always remember:

1. All the networks trying to out do each other. CNN winning with the hologram spectacle.
2. Tom Brokaw.
3. G leaving the room and the announcement being made at 8:05 and me yelling for her to get downstairs.
4. All the people in Chicago.
5. All the people all over the nation. Black and white. Lots of crying and celebrating. It was refreshing to see.
6. Jesse Jackson in the crowd crying. Was he crying because a few months back he said he wanted to “castrate” the most popular black man in America since MLK?
7. How calm Barack seemed in his speech. It made me feel calm too.
8. Frustrated that most African American media or media guest seems to emphasize Barack’s victory as a win for African Americans first and foremost before a win for all of America.
9. Most except for David Paterson who was absolutely brilliant in his commentary of the events. How  informative and gracious he was.

I’m glad it went down like this. We, as Americans, deserve it. Now please God, watch over him.

And us.

The following is the closing of Barack’s victory speech from Chicago. The whole speech can be seen and read here.

This is our chance to answer that call.  This is our moment.  This is our time – to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American Dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth – that out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we can’t, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people:

Yes We Can.  Thank you, God bless you, and may God Bless the United States of America.

This was as close to Metallica as we would come.

Jace and I traveled up to the Wiltern but to no avail. What a horrible excursion. Such high hopes to see the boys close to home in a tiny venue. It was not to be.

The drive was always epic. Back roads and country bars. The tram…

Nowadays, Palm Springs means golf.

Mark., JB, Kleims and I were more than happy to meet some friends on their yearly jaunt to the west coast for a day of golfing at the PGA West Stadium course.

And taking money from Mark is always a bonus.

And Lance was there. Another bonus.

Check that…Christmas day now! Merry Christmas!

See…I just got home from M, L and C’s and I’m stuffed! Ate, Drank and was way Merry! When we got home, I finished up helping Santa with his list and went into a little me time. Not knowing what to do with myself, I went into the guest room and found the big number 2 balloon (don’t ask). She’s been “hanging” around for a few weeks and I thought tonight was the night to liberate her.
I went outside and let that mother go. I watched it disappear into the night and thought of all those houses it was traveling over. If, at just one of those houses, a little child could look up into the sky and see a glint of light reflected off that balloon and believe in Santa…then I think I have done my job. Of littering. Sorry about that. Mylar balloons are bad for sea turtles. But it was still fun to watch and think about Santa and his travels.

Merry Christmas ya’ll!

It drops tomorrow in most mailboxes.
This year’s design was last minute.

I feel ok about the way it turned out but…there have been better cards in the past.

Happy Holidays!

This is my dog at work. His name is Ed. He’s a good dog. He is also a lamp.