When Rob Zombie appeared onstage, he shouted to the crowd at USANA Amphitheater in Salt Lake City. Zombie was thrilled that he and his band would be celebrating the advent of Halloween (isn't that what the entire month of October is, after all) in Utah's cool weather? "How can you get excited about Halloween when it's 100 degrees outside?" he asked. True, true.
Zombie presented a visual Halloween Hootenanny, part of the tour featuring Alice Cooper and The Murderdolls. In reality, it was a haunted happening.
Loyal Zombie-heads watched their ghoulish master entertain and amuse with his cache of zombies, jack o' lanterns, and related creepy stage props. Oh wait, the haunted spectacle featured horror rock music, too. "Superbeast," "Scum of the Earth," and "Sick Bubble Gum" invigorated the crowd. And everyone was encouraged to sing with Zombie, a master of audience participation. Before long, Zombie had the crowd bellowing to the simple, catchy chorus of "Mars Needs Women, Angry Red Women."
Mars needs women
Angry red women
Mars needs women
Angry red women
Mars needs women
Angry red women
Mars needs women
Angry red women
And Zombie didn't fool around when he wanted audience karaoke: the lyrics appeared on the screen behind the stage in massive print. Even legally blind people could've read and sang along. Clearly, the masses were enthralled with both Zombie and themselves. And when the screen wasn't streaming lyrics, it was filled with images of widely celebrated characters of horror such as Frankenstein and the Phantom of the Opera were comingled with curvy dancing female silhouettes.
Zombie couldn't resist playing a favorite song of his predecessor in haunted stage antics generally and for the Halloween Tour in specific. The audience was treated to Zombie's version of "Schools Out Forever" and went on to play "Werewolf Women of the SS" and "Dragula" immediately after. The darkly humorous evening ended with "House of 1000 Corpses." What's not to like about that?
As we walked back to the parking lot that night, I realized it's about time to head down to the costume closet and see what I can find ...
Disclosure: I was a volunteer at this concert. I received NO compensation for this review.
June 1972. I had a freshly minted graduation certificate from McKemy Junior High School in Tempe, Arizona. As my friends and I rode our bikes home from school that one last time, we scream-sang a new hit "School's Out Forever."
School's out for summer
School's out forever
School's been blown to pieces
No more pencils
No more books
No more teacher's dirty looks
Like me, Alice Cooper fka Vincent Damon Furnier was born in the midwest and his parents eventually moved to Arizona where he attended high school. He was active in the the Order of DeMolay. I was in the corresponding organization for girls, Job's Daughters.
A couple days ago, I mentioned to my mom that I'd finally gone to see Alice Cooper at the USANA Amphitheater in Salt Lake City on Monday. Attending an Alice Cooper concert wasn't something I could've pulled off during my teen years, even if I'd known of one. My parents were protective and conservative. I was their only daughter and the oldest. Sending me to see America's original horror "heavy metal" rock star would have been met with unilateral objection from both my parents. (Maybe if they'd known he was a card carrying Republican ...) There would have been a lengthy discussion in the living room, and maybe as a consolation more blandish fare, perhaps the Carpenters, Barry Manilow, and Neil Diamond may have emerged as alternatives to the vampirish Cooper. But that was then, and this is now.
Cooper could've easily become a "one hit wonder," for in so many ways "School's Out Forever" defined him and put him on the rock n' roll map, so to speak. For four decades, there's been no other song that so clearly expresses the jubilation and sense of exhilaration at the end of the school year, whether junior high or graduate school, or whether it was my graduation or that of my kids, for that matter. But the hits kept on coming, and recently, Cooper was nominated for the 2011 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Not a surprise.
Now 62, Cooper gives no hint of halting his tour. During an interview in 2005, Cooper noted "I look at Mick Jagger and he's on an 18-month tour and he's six years older than me, so I figure, when he retires, I have six more years. I will not let him beat me when it comes to longevity."
Storm clouds threatened but the rain had come and gone, and we were left with a chilly, mostly clear evening. Cooper quickly got the sparse but enthusiastic crowd overheated when he opened his show with "School's Out." Every fan was on their feet, fixated on Cooper and in anticipation of what song was coming next. Cooper has the roar and unyielding energy of a twenty year old. With hits such as "Billion Dollar Babies," "Only Women," "No More Mr. Nice Guy," and "Dirty Diamonds" he won me over yet again .
The biggest surprise, perhaps, was how short the numbers were. Unlike more contemporary artists with their long-winded set of about ten to fourteen songs, Cooper growled his way through a string of two minute songs. I suppose when you have as many hits as he does, that is the only way to pack the program with over 20 songs and still get to bed by 9 pm. Incidentally, he performed before Rob Zombie, and we were making guesses about whether Cooper had in his contract an early bedtime.
Known for gore, blood, and guts, guillotines, and gigantic syringes, Cooper's macabre stage theatrics and songs like "I Love the Dead" and "Feed My Frankenstein" paved the way for today's edgy heavy metal bands like Disturbed and Avenged Sevenfold. Nurse Rozetta made her appearance. But Cooper's antics were almost like watching Barnabas Collins in an episode of Dark Shadows. Perhaps it was all very horrifying back in the day, but the ghoulish dramatics were almost of a cult rock concert quality, and not disappointingly so.
Cooper ended the concert wearing a sparkling jacket and with the hit "I'm Eighteen" (and I don't know what I want). Oh and by the way, that was me until I was about 35. But at 18, Cooper did seem to have a fragile grasp on his destiny ... when he started his band back in the late 1960s, he wanted to drink beer, meet girls, and play music. And the rest, as they say, is history.
Disclosure: I was a volunteer at this concert. I received NO compensation for this review.
Longer working hours, shorter days, non-stop phone calls, and social events have made blogging difficult lately. I scoped out Best Buy and found one of those mini laptops for only $249 on sale. The compact size is perfect for my purse and writing posts (at least drafts) during my lunch hour … what a concept. I wasn't fast enough and now the price is back up to $299. So I'll wait.
To complicate concert blogging, I decided the batch of concerts last weekend did not merit honorable mention as far as a name and a review. I opted out because one lead singer slammed her lips to the microphone and it created considerable vibration that interfered with her vocal tone, or maybe that was the tone regardless. Either way, it was difficult if not unacceptable listening. Off-key, out of tune does not a pleasant listening experience make, nor does mumbling into the microphone. When the drums and the guitars are not in synch, it's like trying to dance to a rhythm not unlike an old man with hiccups. And to think I invited friends to this? One lead singer's overdone falsetto vocals reminded me of the woman in the room next to mine in the labor and delivery unit of the hospital where my daughter was born. When I mentioned the wailing, the nurses told me she was at the same stage of labor as me. This was a surprise because I was sorting grocery store coupons all over my bed and not even humming.
Back to music … I love all kinds of music, even what some would dub mediocre music, but I hate bad execution. Lack of "perfect pitch" talent is not such an issue as it'd seem. I've heard musicians who have no vocal range whatsoever passionately screaming into a microphone, and, because their rhythm and instrumentation are over the top, they score with the crowd.
Nobody knows their own blind spots, those areas invisible to the artist, yet blaringly visible to everyone else. Aspiring artists need accurate, honest feedback and receptivity to such feedback.
In any event, I don't want to discourage budding talent nor whine incessantly about underperformances. I'd rather go silent on identities and let these artists get needed coaching from peers and improvement to their execution, just as I would hope for same myself. {Tomorrow is another day.}
My sister wife fell in love
With a barefoot postman
Shoelessly, he runs between
Mailboxes as fast as he can
He's her man, they'll never part …
He's her man, they'll never part …
A man with three daughters can't afford bad karma
He won't be playing reindeer games with her heart ...
Tuesday night he's ridin' his Harley
To grandkids a bouncing
She's fetching beer cans
And text message trouncing
He's her man, they'll never part …
He's her man, they'll never part …
A man with three daughters can't afford bad karma
He won't be playing reindeer games with her heart ...
Friday night she's in the kitchen
Makin' farmers market meals
Veggie pizza, apple crisp
Random unclaimed delish on wheels
He's her man, they'll never part …
He's her man, they'll never part …
A man with three daughters can't afford bad karma
He won't be playing reindeer games with her heart ...
When I'm tired, I just want to get home. Case-in-point: after the Dave Matthews concert, the traffic was backed up on the main road so I diverted to a side street. About 100 feet down the road, there was a road closed sign. No worries. I jumped the curb and drove on the sidewalk. Oh if my car could tell stories …
Anyway, after the Brad Paisley concert, all my usual secret tricks to get out of the parking lot quickly were doomed to failure. When I walked out and saw dozens of “tailgate” parties in progress after the concert, I knew it was going to be a long night. It wasn't that bad, really, but fifteen minutes of waiting at midnight can be one long time.
As I was driving east towards I-15, I saw those magical flashing police car lights. I wasn't speeding nor did I run a stop sign nor had I been drinking alcohol. Still, I had doubts about whether I could pass a sobriety test as I was too tired to get up and walk a straight line. I was so relieved that the officer only wanted to tell me my headlight was out.
Press PLAY to sample one of Brad Paisley's concert hits featuring his animated character.
The evening was slightly cool and moonlit. USANA's summer country concert series in Salt Lake City came to a close – or rather a grand finale – with the Brad Paisley H2O concert. One night when I couldn't sleep, I found myself in front of the computer at 3 am perusing the set list for recent Brad Paisley events, and instantly I knew the upcoming Paisley concert would be a rollout of some 20 sing-along hits from the country top 100.
The sizable, cowboy hat-wearing crowd cheered when they heard “Water,” Paisley's 17th #1 single hit, which is the centerpiece song behind a Gulf Oil Spill relief concert in which he is involved on October 17th. He also favored his Utah fans with “American Saturday Night,” “Online,” and “I'm Still a Guy” as animated scenes flashed on high tech video screen behind the band.
A highlight of the concert was when Paisley, surrounded by police and body guards, left the stage for a section of the 300 seats which are well above the VIP seats. “I used to sit in the cheap seats so I know the feeling well,” he said. He played there for at least two songs before heading back to the stage.
Joining or appearing to were Alison Krauss and Andy Griffith. Superimposed video onstage made me look twice to see if Allison Krauss was really there. Amazing.
“Ticks,” and “Alcohol” (what a combination, right??) closed out another encore performance by Paisley. By the time “Alcohol” began playing, the stage was filled with extras, including warm up bands featuring Darius Rucker and Justin Moore as well as members of the audience and Paisley's look-a-like character, who visited the makeshift bar onstage. When the house lights went on, the air was moderately cold outside, but once again Paisley had warmed his Utah fans with a night of hotter than hot music.
Disclosure: I was a volunteer at this concert. I received NO compensation for this review.
In 2008, Darius Rucker signed with Capitol Records as a country artist. One of the most experienced “warm up artists” performing on a moonlit Friday evening at USANA Amphitheater in Salt Lake City, Rucker put a bit of twang in his guitar with the move from Hootie and Blowfish to the Nashville-loving set.
Rucker's lineup was an acknowledgement of his early musical roots with “Only Wanna Be With You,” and “Let Her Cry,” both from his Hootie and the Blowfish days. The splash of country styling added to these numbers worked well and pleased the crowd. The mainstay of the concert was new country songs such as “Come Back Song” and “Don't Think I Don't Think About It.” Those could be back-to-back situations, but in the latter, the woman he still thinks of is married so coming back may be a challenge.
The set ended with “Purple Rain,” which showcased a video backdrop of the biggest purple rainstorm I've ever seen. What an ending, and for Rucker, more evidence of a new beginning. One of my friends at the concert commented, “Well, his name sure sounds all country.” {Sure enough.}
Disclosure: I was a volunteer at this concert. I received NO compensation for this review.
My birthday festivities lasted several days including a trip to Pat's BBQ. I've mentioned Pat's here before, and the joint is definitely worth a re-mention. As usual, the food was fantastic, but my daughter, son-in-law, and I were absorbed in the music of Marinade.
What an unlikely band configuration Marinade is … the lead singer, Talia Keys, is also the drummer. The band's vibe is a juicy configuration of reggae, blues, jazz, funk, and rock. Talia looked strikingly like a friend of mine who's now a stay-at-home mom with two daughters, but who definitely can hold her own in a group of men. Confidently singing and banging on drums for hours on end, Talia's huge, deep voice sang out to such tunes as “Roses,” “Voodoo Maya,” and “Downtown Digs.” The music wasn't so much about the lyrics as it was about the groove and beat of the jimbay (African percussion), sax, guitar, and bass behind the drums.
I read somewhere once that it's better to listen to classical music while eating, something about the effect of calm, soothing music to digest by. I'll have to respectfully disagree. Marinade was the perfect saucy sound for eating Salt Lake City's best BBQ meal.
Oh wait ... there's more. My daughter had whipped up a special birthday celebration, complete with Tiramisu, which of course she blogged about a couple weeks later. {mmmmmm}
"Peace is as much about getting the bombs out of our own hearts as out of the Pentagon budget."
-- Colman McCarthy
Today and every day I wish for world peace. But most especially today. For think globally, act locally isn't just for recycling. And be the change you want to see in the world can save more than our ecosystems.
World peace is a momentum that begins with inner peace, namely mine and yours. This movement begins in our homes and with our most intimate relationships. It extends to our circle of friends and their friends and theirs and so on. It ripples to our neighborhoods and our work places.
We can forgive.
We can care deeply.
We can offer to help.
We can love ourselves.
We can live in harmony.
We can stop bashing them.
We can visualize abundance.
We can detach from conflict.
We can listen and understand.
We can think peaceful thoughts.
We can be truly kind to everyone.
We can be fueled by love not fear.
We can seek positive in all situations.
We can look for the good in all people.
We can giggle at life's humorous moments.
We can spend time with a friend who is lonely.
We can look into someone's eyes and smile from our toes.
We can say we're sorry to those we have hurt, and really mean it.
We can invite an adversary to dinner and perhaps reach an understanding.
We can let someone go in front of us at the grocery store or in rush hour traffic.
Imagine the ripple effect if everyone would do one extra peaceful thing each day! A little bit of change makes a lot of difference. World peace begins with each of us, especially you and me. Maybe it's not too much to ask, if we start today. {me too}
Rainbows over Geneva, Switzerland photographed by Phil Bastian
The time was 12:45 am. We'd just spent a relaxing moonlit evening, surrounded by candles, as we sat in the warm and warmer Diamond Hot Springs, located near Spanish Fork Canyon, and marveled at the expanse of the starry sky. Like my friends and their friends, I chatted, snacked on nuts and granola bars, drank a sip of wine, and giggled. The entire experience was a rush: a 2.5 mile hike up, the 2+ hour hot springs soak during which I was treated to a rousing chorus of “Happy Birthday”, and the hike back down.
The ambiance in the SUV was akin to a swamp at best, a combination of sweaty hiking scent coupled with sulphur from the hot springs. Within minutes we were on the road, and we gravitated to the topic on everyone's mind at 1 am Saturday morning: what to do about dating. Not that we don't, but how to do it better so the revolving door of first dates ends, at least for a while. Banter lobbed between the back and front seats like a ping pong match. Several shared stories, frustrations, and opinions about the drama of dating from age 30+.
Topics included what to say and what not to say in personal ads, and which dating sites are the best (and worst). A couple people focused on the relative ethics – or lack -- of leading people on in whom you are not interested. Managing expectations – yours and those of others – led to invigorating chatter about the point at which dating more than one person at a time was foul play. I think we revisited that topic several times over.
People shared what they wanted and didn't want in a partner and/or relationship. Those who were on match.com mentioned whether they'd seen each other's ads and discussed the site's features. And then a deep discussion of the power of innuendos ensued. Innuendo-wise, a new word coined on the trip, means “pertaining to indirect or subtle references.” If there is a dating dictionary, innuendowise should be added. If I have learned anything about dating, it's sort of like charades. And you have to navigate without Google maps or a Garmin. Sometimes there are hints at what to do or say, and sometimes not.
Later on, the driver, who is an Elsewherian, shared his religious philosophies. “Where church is, I'm elsewhere,” he explained. He's very devout from the sound of it. At one time, he was a practicing Mormon, but he quit going to church. Two who were raised Catholic did the same. Even though I go to mass just about every week, and I cannot imagine not going, I understand that “fish out of water” feeling when you realize that your religion and your spirituality must part ways.
The evening ended for some at the parking lot of Sportsman's Warehouse, where those who'd left cars in the rear of the lot received a not-so-friendly flyer warning that if we ever parked there again, we'd be towed. Oh well, guess I know where I won't be able to buy my next pair of hiking boots. A smaller group of us made way to Village Inn for breakfast. The dating theme continued, in earnest, with yet another twist. What to do about the aggressive, won't take “no” for an answer female? We did not solve this, but we heard a legendary story about a determined female on the loose and we were subsequently sworn to secrecy. Censorship hits this blog again. Ouch.
My friend and I left Village Inn and I dropped her off. What an amazing and exhilarating evening. 3:38 am was the time when I walked in the door. No doggie door needed to sneak in after a late night (yes, there was a time when I could have conducted training on how to do this). Wow, maybe I really am a grown up now. {Happy Birthday, me.}
