Arrived

Safeway checkout line
Just east of downtown Denver, Co.
Wednesday 10:45 p.m.

(Two black males in their late 20s survey the scene of yuppies and hipsters among the other customers who are minorities more traditional to the area)

A: The hood ain’t the same, man. The hood ain’t the same. Look at this picture. What’s wrong with it?

B: Us?

Hood, meet urban renewal. Aaron, meet East Denver.

Nice to be here.

When the road to recovery feels like the highway to Hell

Last weekend’s Operaćion: Go out three nights in a row and jackass around with the vices of my choosing has left me with a pretty manly cough that I haven’t been able to shake for the last four days. 8:30 p.m. basketball start times (FU, national television schedules) didn’t help tonight, and now I’m going to miss my 8 a.m. out of necessity if I ever stand a chance of recovering from this hot mess. Not seeing a doctor, as every time I’ve been worn down in the past and had these symptoms they always tell me it’s a viral sinus/upper res infection and antibiotics are worth dick, and to just “drink plenty of water and rest.”

Had I toughed it out last Fall and trudged through two shitty instructors instead of taking an F I’d be enrolled in six hours and not the 12 I need to graduate. That’s gonna take its toll. I’ve also returned to the television station I previously worked, and hope I can manage to keep it at a limited capacity for academics’ and sanity’s sake. It felt good to mend the fence with my manager. Score one for knowing some very understanding people and valued friends. And a good lesson learned as my anger problems in future jobs will probably render me homeless.

I had planned to blog much more here. At least weekly. I’ve let a lot of shit slide due to a renewed schedule of work/school and general ADD/depression. Score one more for understanding parents falling on the grenade and remaining spendthrifts for their irresponsible firstborn. I had a lot of promise at two through 11 but 13 through 24 couldn’t have been an easy ride for them.

They’ll probably be on the hook for 25, too. Graduating in this job market.

The ruins want to be with the ruins

Gallup to Flagstaff along Route 66 is breathtaking, if you know the backroads. Dystopian Americana at its finest.

Westen währt am längsten!

That’s right, chilluns. America’s least respected continental time zone is getting another unAikxpected visit. I rocked a 1 a.m.-straight-to-3 p.m. roadie to Gallup, N.M. overnight and now I can’t fall asleep. Half of that commute from Austin was spent in Cedar Park waiting for a light on the free part of 183 to turn green. They’re supposed to have working sensors that time of night, right? Another car pulled up and got similarly pissed so I stormed out of my vehicle and hit the button on the crosswalk, and yes it did take me 10 minutes to think of doing that. I don’t run red lights in Williamson County. You know how those guys are.

I can also see how I failed physical science in college because I thought snow melted when it’s 55 degrees outside. Not the case. Shows I better stick to taking advantage of bottomed-out gas prices and finding unintentionally inappropriate signs to take pictures of. I’m heading to Phoenix tomorrow for Fiesta Bowl festivities, and I promise I’ll have plenty more recounts of my trek through Northern Arizona to hand out like government cheese. I will take nothing but pictures, leave nothing but footprints and kill nothing but a sixer or two of road sodas in the process. Loveyoubye

Alamojo

Faulty CDRs coupled with faulty computers means I’ve been late on getting my father’s Christmas present to him, but I thought I’d pass the rocking on to you while I struggle to finalize the gift. Inspired by my indoctrination to rock music under his tutelage, I present to you DJ headAik’s Best of San Antonio Rock, Volume I.

Happy new year!

1. Judas Priest – Burnin’ Up (Killing Machine, 1978)

2. Starz – Subway Terror (Violation, 1977)

3. Moxy – Midnight Flight (Moxy II, 1976)

4. Electric Sun – Electric Sun (Earthquake, 1979)

5. Michael Schenker Group – Are You Ready to Rock (MSG, 1981)

6. Judas Priest – White Heat, Red Hot (Stained Class, 1978)

7. Ted Nugent – Free For All (Free For All, 1976)

8. Scorpions – The Sails of Charon (Taken By Force, 1977)

9. Budgie – I Turned to Stone (Nightflight, 1981)

10. Van Halen – Somebody Get Me a Doctor (Van Halen II, 1979)

11. AC/DC – Jailbreak (Jailbreak, 1974)

12. Ted Nugent – Turn it Up (Free For All, 1976)

13. Legs Diamond – Waiting (A Diamond is a Hard Rock, 1978)

14. Scorpions – Lipstick Traces (Live UFO cover w/ Michael Schenker, 1979)

15. Legs Diamond – Woman (A Diamond is a Hard Rock, 1978)

16. Accept – I’m a Rebel (I’m a Rebel, 1980)

Keep rocking into 2009!

A.

Serac invasion

“This song is called Professional… It’s about being professional.”

So spake San Serac on a chilly Thursday night in early December. If I’m going to Sixth Street in downtown Austin on a high-traffic night of the week, you’d better believe whatever I’m going for is worth it. Otherwise, circling for parking and then meandering through crowds of street rats and egomaniac douche bags would keep me at home. No, I had this date marked on the calendar for months.

San Serac is a guy named Nat from the Eastern seaboard. When he’s not recording solo material, he’s based out of Canada making music with ex-Junior Boys member Johnny Dark as part of Stereo Image. His recorded repertoire as San Serac absolutely kicks, as dancefloor-ready disco beats with synth explosions permeate throughout the albums. But live, the one-man show explodes with energy that a CD laser alone can’t capture. Nat sings, synths, moves, grooves and drums… and the crowd moves right along with him.

There was no need to be uptight or self-conscious this night at Emo’s. I looked around and saw those brave enough to set themselves apart from the resident assclown hipsters posturing against the brick wall joining in on the fun, dancing recklessly just as I was as San Serac’s set (an enthralling, pulsating but disappointing six songs long) ran the course of his supporting slot on the bill without letting down the energy level for one second.

His dress was business-casual, his emotion was 100% committed to his craft- but the end result for those in attendance was something that shows need to be: Fun. So many live performers have their heads up their ass anymore, but this one was free of pretension and out to enthrall those of us just serious about having a good time.

San Antonio’s got Moxy

San Antonio’s always been a rockin’ town. One of the primary reasons I’ll make the trip is because the city attracts classic hard rock acts that Austin usually won’t get. The true gems of San Antonio rock are the bands that broke onto the album-oriented hard rock scene of the mid-70s but didn’t get the national attention that Aerosmith or KISS received. Local favorites like Legs Diamond (California), UFO (England) and Moxy (Canada) were every bit as talented and influential as their Clear Channel classic rock-format colleagues that survive to sell thousands more CDs to this day.

The genre that predated the 80s heavy metal onslaught has always played well in traditional blue-collar places like New Jersey, Cleveland and Detroit. But something about San Antonio was a little bit different. In that era, albums and touring shows were the widest distribution a rock band could get. There were no cable networks for music videos, and the Internet and mp3s would be unknown for another generation or two. This made local radio DJs extremely influential, especially those with freedom to play entire album sides on their shows (the longer the better, for those wishing to step outside and indulge in a smoke of their choice).

San Antonio’s “Godfather” of rock was Joe Anthony of the KISS/KMAC stations. Anthony was hip to rising rock acts and would showcase the ones he thought most deserving by giving their LPs airtime on his shows. Many of these acts would be invisible to Texans from that decade had Anthony not played them. Besides his work as a DJ, Anthony also was a master promoter, bringing the domestic and imported acts he loved most to Texas and helping them gain a local fanbase. Moxy was one such band.

Moxy was a Toronto five-piece that debuted with a self-titled album seen as their best and most influential work by die-hard fans. The first album became popular through Texas airwaves and Anthony organized to bring them to the Lone Star State with an Australian opening act also popularized in San Antonio by the name of AC/DC. In July of 1977, Moxy headlined AC/DC’s first-ever United States show at Austin’s famed Armadillo World Headquarters. They followed that show with consecutive nights in San Antonio, Corpus Christi and Dallas. Texans had gotten a taste of international rock and roll flavor- and they loved it.

Fast forward 30+ years. Music has changed, but favorites haven’t necessarily followed suit. San Antonio still prides itself as a rock Mecca, every bit as interested in the old guard as they were three decades ago. The names of bands, long reunited and broken up and reunited again, that come through this town reads like an inventory of your father and mine’s vinyls: Moxy, Budgie, Montrose, Saxon… Many of these bands come from other countries, continents even. And if they do only a handful of U.S. dates- even one- San Antonio is sure to be on the calendar.

With that spirit, thousands of San Antonians flocked to a free show at a Harley-Davidson dealership on the outskirts of town Saturday night to witness one of their favorite bands, Canadians at that, return to their second home. Moxy is not what they used to be, at least on paper. With deaths and retirement, plus the expected lineup changes after 35 years of being a band, Moxy is now a four-piece with lead guitarist Earl Johnson as their only remaining member from the “classic” mid-late 70s period. That didn’t stop them from rattling through all of the fan favorites, including 7 of the 8 tracks on that blockbuster 1975 debut album. Johnson was masterful in his first San Antonio gig handling both rhythm and lead duties, proving to all in attendance that he may have even gotten better with age since the last time I saw them, a 2004 gig at the Sunken Gardens with Budgie and Michael Schenker, a guitar legend in his own right. The newest addition to the band was lead singer Russ Graham (ex-Killer Dwarfs). Graham delighted in hitting the high notes and energy of original vocalist Buzz Shearman, even if he whiffed on some of the lyrics and spent many a moment looking down at written cue cards during the set. Moxy closed with SA radio staple “Sail On Sail Away,” and the lighters came out in the light rain. Soon denim-vested, perm-mulleted, middle-aged men- and I- started headbanging along to the epic power ballad and all was right with the night.

Not to mention the lawless nature of the event. No firearm checks, no gate. Just $5 for parking in a grass field and you could walk right in. Had my father and I known we would have brought a cooler and set up shop selling Bud Lights for a dollar less than the licensed vendors were. Damn.

Here’s to hoping Moxy returns soon, because this close proximity to San Antonio that I take for granted won’t last once I graduate in the spring.

A screaming sermon from the pulpit of rock and roll

In high school I often associated grades with the band(s) I was listening to most during that particular year. Junior year was the Judas Priest year of my school career.

I had been a fringe fan for a year or so, of course being familiar with their handful of radio-heavy hits because I had been an avid listener to classic rock stations since eighth grade. The summer after my sophomore year I became interested in combing my father’s record collection for inspiration in my quest for good music. I came across two LPs from Priest’s pre-British Steel catalog; an era of Judas Priest most people with a working knowledge of “Breaking the Law” have no idea exists.

Around the same time I was researching late-70s hard rock on the internet and found discographies of influential NWOBHM artists. The site mentioned JP’s 1978 release Stained Class as the greatest classic metal album of all time. I took note in the back of my mind but didn’t scour Amazon or local music stores for the release as classic Priest still wasn’t entirely on my radar.

In the fall of 2001 I was a high school junior driving my way around town and listening to the likes of AC/DC, Ted Nugent and Scorpions. I had read online that Priest would be releasing remastered CDs of their Columbia releases and decided the 70s-era Priest was something worth trying. I debuted their epic live Unleashed in the East in my Sony Discman on the bus for our annual Wurstfest field trip and was pleased with the results.

In early January I was still on Winter Break and spent the majority of my free time abusing my still newfound driving privileges by commuting around Austin (when it was more novelty than hassle), finding the occasional music store to blow my allowance on. I found another re-release, 1977’s Sin After Sin. This was the band’s first release after signing with Columbia and signaled a move in a heavier direction away from the more bluesy hard rock they had gone with on their first two albums. This was the tour where they were joined by Les Binks on drums and made their U.S. debut, blowing away audiences who hadn’t heard anything close to the style of rock Priest were playing live.

The following month I was preparing for another German Club trip to San Antonio for the Texas regional high school contest. The day before I went to the mall and finally bought Stained Class as listening material for the trip. In my haste to leave the house that morning I had brought the Discman but forgotten the headphones. Cockblocked.

That night when I returned home I raced to my bedroom and put in the CD. What I heard for the next hour was unlike any other listening experience I had had to date. What amounts to the first side of the album is simply amazing. The album opened with Exciter, which was a strong tone setter for what was to come. Better By You, Better Than Me is of course the band’s cover song which led a couple of doped-up Nevada teens to try and blow their heads off while listening to in 1985. It’s not the strongest track on the album, but is a pretty heavy take on the original Spooky Tooth version and doesn’t sound too out of place on this release.

Then it came to the fourth (and title) track, Stained Class. My head exploded as I listened again. And again. And again. The galloping flange guitar effect. Rob Halford’s perfectly executed high notes. And Glenn Tipton’s guitar solo! My god! (3:30) That 20 seconds alone got replayed for the next two hours. With repeated future headphone listens, the subtleties of the song slowly get recognized and appreciated. What I seem to take away more and more from this song is just how beautiful Binks’ drumming is on the track. The timing of the cymbal crashes during the bridge are phenomenal and make me wish he had stayed with this group through their commercial successes in the 80s.

Stained Class was behind many user/screen/account names I had in the past, and for good reason, because as music became a more important piece of my life this album and song were consistently the favorite. Since moving through college I have moved away from the rock album and more toward individual mp3 tracks, but this particular release will always have a special place with me when I remember my high school years. And besides, it just fuckin’ rocks.

With so many geographic misnomers, at least the Plains were appropriately named

Got back from Colorado and promptly got sick. Lovely.

But the Centennial State treated me as well as it always does, filing away the speeding ticket from recent memory. A sports department comrade from the TV station accompanied me and was forced to adhere to my grueling schedule of weekend car travel to Colorado which I am apt to follow several times throughout the school year.

SIDEBAR: God damn it, Texas really is tiring the shit out of me! I made the decision to leave it again for good in 2005 but haven’t the diploma to act on it yet. That’s why these trips get me by. It’s like a teaser shot of heroin four times a year with a Final Destination: 1964 Lower East Side on the horizon.

So we left Thursday evening and made it into Lamar, CO as the sun was rising, stopping for donuts and thanking our stars the smell of cow shit hadn’t permeated the area like it typically does in this part of the world. Made it into Denver three hours after and got a quick nap before I was up and on the road again to Boulder. With a bit of pride I showed my travel partner the student-run sports TV show I used to work on (the equivalent of what I work on now at UT, though this show had moved to a newer and better-funded studio after my 2004 departure) and we marveled at the level of focus and professionalism their volunteers manage to keep. Some trade secret I never figured out and employed on my own volunteers, though I’ve never considered myself worth a damn in the “leader of peoples” category.

I went out alone Friday night to a music-bar in northeast downtown Denver and saw for the first time a band I had for three years just admired via the Myspace. Fissure Mystic was amazing and told me they may be coming to Austin in the future. I drove back to the hotel, which was directly east of downtown but a good five miles away. I took plenty of residential streets in this part of town as I do every trip to scout potential rent/buy options for post-graduation. The City Park and Park Hill neighborhoods are an interesting mix, made up of both large Tudors and the more modest mid-century brick ranches and bungalows. The area used to be one of the finest in Denver proper, although it may still be given the entire city’s demo shifts. White flight in the Fifties sparked several shifts in the character of the neighborhood and it stands today as one with a very fine line between pricey, established homes (generally south of 20th/Montview) and ones used in narcotic retail and targeted for gang shootings (again as a semifrequent visiting outsider making observations – north). My priority area for when I move, and I may sacrifice some theoretical peace of mind for affordability if I can find it.

Saturday was eventful, though nothing life-changing came because of it. Had breakfast with my cousin who lives in Fort Collins and tripped to Boulder with camera in tow. Had a tough time shooting a segment because CU students seem to prefer in-apartment pregaming to outdoor tailgating and therefore not many people comfortable enough to want to be on camera were around. The game wasn’t very exciting and the media got jammed for postgame interviews. We were forced to hang around in a dark corner of the stadium and let the players and coaches walk out to us. Such that it appeared as though townspeople (us) had cornered Mack Brown and were inching closer and closer to him with microphone-torches as his back was propped rigid against the brick wall of the fieldhouse.

Sunday was the long drive home, through the worst service ever at Amarillo’s Big Texan (not worth it… 1.25 hours there and no one attempting to take down a 72-ouncer) and through the worst thunderstorms I’ve ever done highway driving through… from Amarillo straight to Abilene and then some. But we got home safely, and I’m done road tripping for a while.

[And closing in on half a year until I can trip away from this state permanently.]

Strip clubs and vato bars

This week was the worst in a long time. Still no parking permit, and the iPod was stolen from my backpack after having only been away for 10 minutes to get lunch.

Weekend’s been busy as I am beginning assignments for the TV reporting class. News is a terrible profession and I’ll only go into it as a last resort. Last night I went on a ride-along with fire marshals as they visited nightclubs and issued citations. Two gentleman’s clubs were on the list which made it the first (and probably last) two visits for me. Losers inside seemed to get excited by the presence of a video camera. The things I do for a passing grade.

Texas football at Colorado next weekend, and you’re damn right I’m making the trip.