The new music video, "PROMISED LAND," by the very talented Carolyn Striho and Scott Dailey 

Stop and Hear the Flowers

. . . and smell the music.






For a ticket price of approximately $100.00, one can attend Boston's Symphony Hall to hear world renowned musician-violinist, Joshua Bell, play one of the most intricate classical pieces ever written - Bach - with his handcrafted 1713 Stradivarius violin (worth 3.5 million).
For a price of approximately $100.00, one can transcend the minutus details of daily life and immerse oneself in the beauty and the splendor of the sound of art.
For $100.00, one can STOP to smell the music.
But, apparently, without this price attached, one is blind and deaf and dumb and, well, just too preoccupied and busy to actually see and hear and appreciate Joshua Bell play incognito, on a busy Washington DC metro during rush hour.
He played for 45 minutes. Only about six or seven people stopped to take notice, mostly children. His biggest fan, a six-year-old boy, was quickly whisked away by his mother. Twenty people threw money in a till - a total of $35.00. Only one person recognized him. And when Joshua completed playing the six intricate pieces by Bach . . . the familiar sounds of silence (except for the noises in their heads) comforted the ears of the passengers. No applause. No recognition. Silence.
This was all part of a social and marketing experiment by Gene Weingarten two years ago today; January 12, 2007, proving that people will designate one of two identical items as being distinctly better than the other simply because it is packaged or presented more attractively.
Weingarten set the event as an ,"experiment in context, perception and priorities - as well as an unblinking assesment of public taste: in a banal setting at an inconvenient time, would beauty transcend?"

I Know What I Did Last Sunday

What do you get when you combine a 14,000 square-foot ballroom of an award winning 800-million dollar luxury casino resort - the first of its caliber outside of Las Vegas; a starting lineup of an NBA championship winning team; a surprise guest performance by a world-famous artist / hip hop legend; and a man with a name familiar to most in the city of Detroit?

You get Dennis Archer Jr. hosting Pistons’ Richard “Rip” Hamilton’s 30^th birthday party at the MGM Grand Ballroom with Busta Rhymes leading the invited guests (like Rasheed Wallace, Tayshaun Prince, Chauncey Billups) in a toast and a traditional rendition of “Happy Birthday to You.” You get a night worth remembering. I did. The night of March 2, 2008. And, the heart of Detroit gets defibrillated back to her natural, soulful rhythm (after being brought close to death over the recent damaging rhythms within her political ventricle and law-enforcing lobe)

The night began with my first visit to the MGM Grand Detroit Resort Hotel and Casino, which opened in October 2007 and was named as one of the "Top 10 new U.S. hotels of 2007" by Gayot and mentioned as one of "53 places to visit in 2008" by The New York Times. I was, to say the least, very impressed by the elegant, elaborately designed award winning structure - the MGM Grand Detroit was also recently awarded the prestigious distinction of "Development of the Year 2007" on January 29, 2008 by the 2008 Americas Lodging Investment Summit.

On the way to the Grand Ballroom, I passed by two Starbucks; numerous retail establishments; a relaxing, elegant piano-style bar; tranquil waterfalls; the V lounge – which was recently named in Nightclub & Bar magazine's list of Top 100 Nightclubs of 2008; Wolfgang Puck’s Grille; and (Michael) Mina's SALTWATER Restaurant which was recently awarded "Restaurant of the Year" by the Detroit Free Press.

That was on the way to the party.

When I arrived at the doors of the Grand Ballroom, also referred to as the Grand Salon, I ordered a Cosmopolitan from the nearest bar to ‘break the ice.’ But, as I soon found out, the only ice that didn’t immediately melt in the ‘hot’ ambiance of the Miami-themed room - tented with white linens and filled with palm trees – were the ice sculptures of the number 30 next to a likeness of Rip’s face which decorated the strolling buffet tables.

Between deejay Mick Boogies' retro-disco, R & B and hip hop beat mixes; the announcement of the guest of honor's arrival, “Rip Hamilton is in the building!” called for another drink! But I had to wait before stepping into an oncoming entourage that blocked me from getting to the bar – Rasheed Wallace had also just arrived.

The night was still very young at 11:00pm as we had just begun to celebrate one year older in the life of Rip.

Emcee Kenny Burns and rapper Doug E. Fresh called for Rip to join them up on stage. So, I moved with the other guests, in a solitary mass, behind him. Everyone wanted to personally wish Rip a ‘happy birthday’ and hopefully get a photo opportunity – I was no different – and Rip graciously complied. It was then I realized that Rip was a baby when I worked for the Piston's organization under the leadership of Dick Vitale . . . Rip was a baby when I was a Classy Chassis! I'm not sure if that memory sent me back to the past or speeding into the future of this moment.

There is something about Detroiters and the way we love our athletes and support our sports teams; the way we remain real and true to our musical roots and the way we take pride in our city’s new developments, renovations, history and progress . . . . Well, the night combined all of who we are, what we are, and much of what we hold dear. The night was magical and getting better by the hour.

By now, I was in the front; the extreme front. My thighs were intimate with the edge of the stage. I was there to take photos and video clips, but what I did not know was that I was also right there at the precise moment when, to our surprise, Busta Rhymes was introduced. The mere mention of his name brought screams and shouts, a rhythmic motion of the mass crowd and hundreds of flickering camera flashes. He is, after all, a legend in his own right. And whether or not one loves or despises hip hop music, Busta Rhymes has achieved world-wide recognition and success in a multitude of artistic vehicles from television to film as an actor, writer, director, singer, performer and soundtrack composer. He does have a commanding and magnetic stage presence about him. And there is nothing quite the likes of raising a glass in a birthday salute to Rip Hamilton while joining Busta Rhymes in a “choir-like” rendition of “Happy Birthday to You.”

The evening was made possible by Dennis Archer Jr. - the name speaks for itself - and Ambassador Magazine. I call Dennis, 'Detroit’s Event Mayor and Public Relations Man.'

Rip was the man of the evening. Busta was the man of the hour. And Dennis was and is the man of Detroit.

I know what I did last Sunday. I won’t soon forget what I did last Sunday.

YOU HAD ME AT “HELLO . . . “ THIRTY-SIX YEARS AGO

Just when I thought I had packed my teenage obsession with Todd Rundgren away with my jean cutoff short-shorts (the ones with the butterfly patch sewn onto the bum – the ones I couldn’t wear around my dad); my roller skating jersey; my gold wrap around snake arm bracelet; my emotionally blown out mood ring; and the dried-up powder blue carnation - a corsage from my first formal Junior High School dance (FYI: it will always be “Junior High,” not “Middle School,” to my generation) . . .

Just when I thought by packing away my old LP’s and 45’s in exchange for CD’s and Mp3’s; (cassettes – not worth mentioning - came and went with little hoopla; 8 tracks were alright, but I never really bought into them much) . . .

Just when I thought by growing three babies into adulthood; by finally committing to wearing sunscreen, faithfully; and by accepting the fact that my last name would never be Rundgren . . .

Just when I thought I had come to see Todd through the eyes of a fully matured, real woman (as I wrote about last November 2006 when I saw him perform with The New Cars). . .

And just when I thought IT WOULDN’T HAVE MADE ANY DIFFERENCE at this point in my life . . . he comes to town in his familiar, charming, silly, witty, intelligent and incredibly talented Todd way . . . turning up the heat (without the needed aid of a warm-up band) in a small corner of Detroit on a minus twenty degree Fahrenheit night . . . and twists my plot.

By the time I enter The Magic Bag, promptly at eight o’clock for doors, having stood outside in a line, a smile is already frozen to my face. And, even after I melt, it remains. I can’t help myself. I admit it’s a bit over the top for me to carry on this way. But it feels so good. It feels like all those years, all that time elapsed, every trial and tribulation along the way were erased in one fell swoop (and swoon) for one evening and one day of afterglow. I am, once again, in my skinny, prepubescent twelve year old body, sitting Indian-style on my bedroom floor, brown braids running down my shoulders, burning Nag Champa (wait, I still do that) and playing Todd albums over and over and over again on my record player. Even the mention of ‘record player’ feels electrifying. (But since plugs were not polarized back then, that may be adding to some of my ‘memory electric’).

So, here I am with about three-hundred people: loyal fans of four decade's worth of music (and An Elpee's Worth of Toons). Todd is our number one highest common factor and, per his request, our No. 1 LOWEST COMMON DENOMINATOR (tongue in cheek symbol inserted here. TR fans will understand). We have gathered together on this thirtieth day of January in the eighth year of the third millennium for an up close and personal, “Freeze Your Ass Off” tour. Some of us are seated at tables, others chose to stand, in this big living room atmosphere; drinking, singing, laughing and swaying our hips when we couldn't help ourselves any longer. We converse with Todd from our seats and he banters back at us about our city’s recent embarrassing political scandal, his non-political-non -endorsing-political-views, religion, public MySpace secrets, and other common dinner table conversation topics. He strums his music into existence and sings to us from his soul . . . he is our most gracious and generous host. And, he is a huge talent on a dangerously small stage, as he quickly finds out when “some of his best guitar riff footwork” during “Buffalo Grass” - the first song on the set list - almost sends him into the Snare of drummer Prairie Prince . . . a mere two steps behind him. Todd has always been too big to be limited by space or time . . . too big to be held down by gravity.

His set list included a little something from the past three decades - dating back to 1970 up to the new millennium - with a little more Something/Anything than anything else: He played Black Maria, SLUT, and one of his signature hits; I Saw The Light. As big of a hit as that song was and as much as I loved it back in 1972 . . . nothing has changed. It is a timeless piece of musical beauty and my heart remembered its every note. Todd surprised me with No. 1 Lowest Common Denominator, but not until after he half joked about seeing the young looking “angelic face shoved right up front.” Lowest Common Denominator is a sexually metaphorical song (electric eel and great equalizer) that includes a recitation of an erotic ‘poem of love.’ Todd continues; “I know for a frickin’ fact that this is not an all ages show, ergo, we may speak frankly because the thing I hate is being the first one to give your youngins a talk . . . You’re cramping my style!”

Even though he played for almost three hours, (he really put his heart and soul into his playing - he was energetic, passionate . . . phenomenal on the guitar! He was having a lot of fun with it.) he could not possibly include all of his many songs, or even all of his many hits. He did not have a keyboard with him on stage and did not do some of his pop hits like, “Hello It’s Me,” and “A Dream Goes On Forever,” and “It wouldn’t Have Made Any Difference,” to name just a few. But, we didn’t come to see Todd to hear Todd imitate Todd . . . (that's what separates the real man fans from the boys) for he is in a constant state of metamorphosis and evolution and I’m surprised he even has a set list at all.

He truly is A Wizard A True Star who landed right here at The Magic Bag on the (OOPS) right PLANET, bringing us a glimpse of Utopia and casting his musical spell and wizardry over us - his tireless, faithful fans – by kindly reversing the clock (much like Superman) and restoring to us our youthfulness and our original heads of lustrous, pigmented hair . . . if only in our own minds . . . and if only for one night.

Of course, on stage, Todd could not play every instrument and sing every part himself as he can do in studio and did on three of the four sides of his third solo album: Something /Anything circa 1972. So, he was in the company of three respected, accomplished, talented musicians: Extremely gifted drummer (and artist) - Prairie Prince - who banged out beats for The Tubes; Jefferson Starship, The New Cars and created a solid foundation . . . a canvas for audible art (He has also recorded in studio with Todd and Brian Eno, David Byrne, to name a few); guitarist extraordinaire, performer, educator, author and former music editor of Guitar Player, Jesse Gress who really rocked that stage and impressed all of us with his amazing skill and talent; and bass guitarist – Kasim Sulton.

Kasim (who also blogs a journal ) is highly recognized for his incredible talent as a musician (which is more than obvious when you see him live) singer, songwriter and producer. He has worked with a diverse group of musical artists from Meat Loaf, Patti Smith, Joan Jett and Mick Jagger, to Hall and Oates, Celine Dion, and Patty Smyth. But of course, me being the Todd fan I am, I recognize and appreciate him most for his thirty something years with Todd Rundgren and Todd’s band Utopia. Kasim has a seemingly effortless way of playing . . . as if the instrument is a natural extension of his fingers. He also has a palpable charismatic charm that could do serious damage to the female heart. His name should really be Kasim Sultry . . . because he oozes passion and sensuality. I admit, I was taken by his charm and, of course, his amazing talent, although I tried very hard to resist his hypnotizing eye contact. I won’t say whether or not my efforts worked.

Please, God, I do not want to trade one obsession in for another . . . although, really, I am not obsessed in an unhealthy, crazy way with Todd . . . only another tried-and-true fan would understand my loyalty and passion. By tried-and-true fan, I mean someone who, when they think of TR, the first thing that comes to their mind is NOT only ‘Hello It’s Me.” Like Zappa, Rundgren chose truth to Self and heart over pop culture and top forty. And for that . . . I thank him.

Rundgren Radio

The following is taken from the IMDb website. I do not take credit for the content nor do I take responsibility for inaccuracies. I included it purely for its interesting information.

Mini Biography

Considered by many to be the "Ultimate Rock Cult Hero", Todd Rundgren has maintained a legion of fans through four decades, rivaled only by The Grateful Dead. Todd was raised in the Philadelphia (Pennsylvania) area, and his first professional bands, Money and Woody’s Truck stop, achieved much regional success. It was in the late 1960s, however, that Todd's searing guitar work reached a nationwide audience, in his role as lead guitarist for the blues-psychedelic band Nazz. he wrote and arranged almost all of the work that went into the three albums the group produced. Their music ranged from Southern blues to hard rock to heavily orchestrated symphonies. Nazz broke up in the early 1970s and Todd released two solo albums under the name of Runt. His first big solo success was in 1971 with "We Gotta Get You a Woman" and in 1973 from the double album "Something/Anything?" he scored big on the charts with "I Saw the Light" and a revision of a Nazz song, "Hello, It's Me." Perhaps the superstardom that seemed imminent at this time eluded Rundgren due to his reluctance to be pigeonholed into any single type of music. He still released albums with great love ballads, but they were also laced with heavy guitar rock, and occasionally mini rock operas. Rundgren has scored huge as a music producer, most notably on Meat Loaf's "Bat out of Hell" opus. In the late 1970s and through the 1980s Todd formed the group Utopia, each member an accomplished musician and vocalist. In recent years Rundgren has become a computer enthusiast, marketing many new innovations, some in conjunction with his music. He has also been called on by films and TV for his musical scores. Todd also maintains his own website.

IMDb Mini Biography By: Buxx Bannr

Spouse: Michele Gray

Trivia

Liv Tyler's stepfather.

He was with the rock group, "Utopia".

Co-inventor of the Flowfazer, a computer program that generates visual effects.

Several of his compositions, notably "Hello, It's Me", "I Saw the Light" and "Bang the Drum All Day", are standards known by bar bands across the USA.

Recorded and produced an album entitled "a cappella", which featured only his voice, processed through various electronic devices, to emulate various musical instruments.

Sons: Rex, Randy and Rebop.

Incorporates the song "Bang the Drum All Day" into his concerts, often when the audience is least expecting it.

Since moving to Hawaii, he has taught himself to play the ukulele, joking that "...if you're a musician, it's required by law".

His album "No World Order" has the songs linked together as two long mixes. Because many disk jockeys requested, he released an alternative version of the album, "No World Order - Lite", which has the same songs but mixed as separate tracks.

His album "With A Twist" (a nod to the "retro lounge" movement) features bossa nova versions of his most popular compositions.

Season 1, Episode 1 of "That 70's Show"(1998) known as "The '70s Pilot" AKA "Teenage Wasteland," features a plot revolving around Eric going to see a Todd Rundgren concert in Milwaukee. Two of Rundgren's songs are also featured in the episode, "I Saw the Light" and "Hello It's Me".

He presented the first live nationally broadcast stereo radio concert (by microwave), linking 40 cities around the country, in 1978.

His 1981 "Time Heals," video was the first music video to utilize state-of-the-art compositing of live action and computer graphics. Produced and directed by Rundgren, it became the second video to be played on MTV (after The Bugles' "Video Killed the Radio Star").

He gave the first live national cablecast of a rock concert in 1982, which aired on the USA Network. It was simulcast in stereo to over 120 radio stations.

His creation of the first color graphics tablet in 1980 was licensed to Apple Computers and released as "The Utopia Graphics Tablet."

In 1982 he produced the first two commercially released music videos, one of which was nominated for the first-ever Grammy awarded for Best Short Form Video in 1983.

In 1979 he opened Utopia Video Studios, a multi-million-dollar state-of-the-art facility. The first project produced by Todd there was Gustav Holst's "The Planets", commissioned by RCA Selecta Vision as the first demonstration software for its new videodisc format.

In 1978, he performed the first interactive television concert, broadcast live over the Warner/QUBE system in Columbus, Ohio (the home audience chose each song in real time during the concert by voting via QUBE's 2-way operating system).

BMI Million-Air Awards were also awarded to Rundgren for his other two Top 10 hit records, "I Saw The Light" and "Love Is The Answer".

Digital Hollywood Awards 1996 - Best Music CD-ROM for "The Individualist".

Best Composition Arrangement for "No World Order" from the Interactive Academy in 1994.

Well, this is not the best quality video, taken with my digital camera on Jan 30,2008 at The Magic Bag in Ferndale, Michigan (just outside Detroit). Todd Rundgren, headlining, finally, after years of my waiting in anticipation for his solo return to the stage.(He toured with The New Cars - I saw that show in Nov '06)
I had to move around - get closer to the stage - sing, dance, soak it up...so the video is a bit shaky and the sound is somewhat muffled, but true Todd fans will enjoy it anyway!

After Love, There is Only Art

It is my feeling that the reality in which we live is not real at all. Our struggles, our battles, our wars, our religious beliefs, our political stances, our morals, our societal rules . . . We have been programmed. We have been overcome. We no longer have access to our own minds, our original God-given minds. Everything we feel, see, do, think, is being dictated to us in doses proportionate to our energy. We are helpless pawns in a game of chess played out by something we cannot see. Something we cannot comprehend. Something that the majority of us deny with every molecule of our being; with every vague and distant memory we erase; with every breath we forcefully take; but "it," the invisible transplanted mind, nevertheless, exists. When our suspicions surface as anxiety, extreme discontent, depression, madness, or the likes, we are deemed ill or crazy and our symptoms are quickly sedated . . . masked. I think it all stems back to the story of Adam and Eve and the Garden of Eden - a story that has a deep-seeded truth within its core: God (the Universe, our Higher Power, our Creator) gave man and woman everything by bestowing upon (us) the freedom of expression; the powers of co-creation; the God mind. We were once expressions of infiniteness . . . in other words, He gave us art - heart - and it was good. Our hearts and our minds were, once upon a time, ONE in the same with God. Then, the serpent "the foreign being" appeared and offered man and woman a new mind, separate from God. . . the chance (risk) to attain knowledge without having to look to God. "It" led us to believe we needed to find answers to questions that do not and never did exist in the completeness of our original mind. And with that new foreign mind came our first belief: the belief we that are separate, that we possess an individual mind. We based that belief on our newfound freedom (within our new mind) to conjure perspectives, opinions and judgments. We had fundamentally created our ego. And with the ego, came our second belief; self-awareness - we are different. We found ourselves naked and ashamed of our own skin. Then, our third belief; that we are better than . . . God . . . We created arrogance. As creators, we were on a roll. But, it was not our own mind doing the creating, for we no longer had access to our own mind. Subsequently, we kicked ourselves out of the Garden of Eden, and since then we have spent the rest of our time on Earth blaming God or blaming the serpent or blaming ourselves - which is actually our favorite pastime: indulging in self-reflection and self-pity. So, here we are; call us zombies, call us pawns, call us puppets, call us food for thought (the thought of a foreign mind, that is). Call us Pavlovian dogs that cry when stimulated in particular ways, that laugh when stimulated in other particular ways, that fight when stimulated in yet other particular ways . . . and we blindly and so foolishly call ourselves individuals. Our only way to salvation is to release ourselves from the grip of this predatory mind; whether you call it the serpent in the Garden of Eden, or the devil, or societal values, or political beliefs, or religious creeds . . . whatever you wish to call it is irrelevant. What is relevant is the fact it is real, it exists, it is the reality in which we live. "Wake up people! Stop being Pavlov's pets!" Easier said than done, I know. For allowing something else to do our thinking and the rule-making and the moral setting, etc. takes the responsibility off of us and gives us more time to do what we do best; breathe . . . exist . . . pay the bills . . . cry at the horribly sad stories on the news . . . scream out against the war . . . point fingers at Bush or the Pope . . . make it to church on time . . . shop the sales at Nieman's . . . drink another cocktail . . . bitch out the cable man or the grocery clerk or the waitress . . . complain about the high gas prices . . . reflect upon what terrible people we are, you know, all the really important things that affect our lives every day. All the things we deem as real in our lives. But NONE of that is real. None of that is important in the BIG picture - in the grand scheme of life. None of that exists - all that exists is love and all that is real is ART. Art is our only true freedom of expression as creators. It is possibly our last and only link left to our original GOD heart/mind. It is how we express and acknowledge the suppression of our minds. It is how we express the love we are struggling to remember. It is how we express our deepest, most intimate, REAL selves . . . the real selves that we fighting to regain (whether we know it or not) as our own (while engaged in this cold war). Art is our true expression of our infiniteness. In reality, there exists no religion, no politics, no borders. There exists only love . . . and it's purist expression, art. For every painting, for every crayoned picture hanging on a refrigerator, for every symphony and musical composition, for every 5th grade flute concert, for every opera, every ballet, every preschool tap recital, every song sung, every pastry baked, every reduction sauce perfected, for every undercooked cake from an easy bake oven, for every novel never published, for every poem misunderstood, for every floral arrangement on a dinner table, for every variety of fillings inside each chocolate in a box, for every engine ever built to be more powerful than the last, for every scarf ever knitted, for every letter ever written, for every snowman ever rolled, for every angel made by a child in the snow . . . Art is the finest, purist expression of love. Above: Guernica by Picasso depicts scenes of death, violence, brutality, helplessness, suffering people and animals, buildings wrenched by violence and chaos. One might say, this does not look like an expression of love and I say to that; this is the highest expression of love for this is the TRUTH. This is the reality we have chosen with our free will and the subsequent loss of our original God minds.

How the Blues Heals my Blues

Music heals the soul and my soul is in dire need of healing. So, I have been submerging myself in music as if it were a body of water. I have been diving into the sounds, swimming through the chords, floating on the rhythms, surfing the ripples and waves.
I am truly blessed to be surrounded by friends (guitarist Jim McCarty - above; Johnny "Bee" on drums) who also happen to be extraordinary musicians. And I was fortunate, this past weekend, to witness a rare event . . . to immerse my soul into Blues, Jazz and Rock and Roll . . . to hear four of the most talented musicians in the country who for two nights called themselves The James Montgomery Band. They played Sunday night (Oct 14) at Dylan's Raw Bar and Grille (previously Tom's Oyster Bar) on Mack in Grosse Pointe. The owner, John, is also James' brother (below)
James Montgomery - blues legend, harmonica and lead vocals - grew up in the Detroit area (he now lives in Boston) and learned first-hand from James Cotton, John Lee Hooker and Jr. Wells. He has recorded with Gregg Allman, Kid Rock; he has toured with Aerosmith, Springsteen, Steve Miller, Allman Brothers, Bonnie Raitt; and has jammed on stage with B.B King, Patti LaBelle, Charlie Daniels, Mick Jagger, and many other music legends.

David Hull - (above - on tour with Aerosmith) bass guitarist - resides in Boston and has played with the Buddy Miles Express, Joe Perry Project (he wrote many of their songs) and most recently toured with Aerosmith - filling in for bassist Tom Hamilton while he was recovering from throat cancer - during the first part of the 2006 Tour. (He played for a time in Jimi Hendrix's Band of Gypsies and is rumored to have played at Hendrix's funeral.)

Johnny "Bee" Badanjek - Detroit's greatest rock drummer extraordinaire - originally from the band Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels - who were known for their hits; CC Rider, Devil in the Blue Dress, Sock it to me, Jenny Take a Ride . . . played and recorded with Alice Cooper (Welcome to my Nightmare); Edgar Winter (Free Ride); Dr John, Bob Segar, Bruce Springsteen, Ronnie Montrose . . . Co-founded the Rockets and wrote almost all of their material.
(Left: Johnny "Bee," Ryder and McCarty during the Wheels days)

And then we come to my friend and one of the top ten guitarists in the country (the world): The legendary guitarist Jim McCarty. Jim played guitar with Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels;

Cactus (left- also called The American Led Zepplin; of Long Tall Sally fame); the Rockets (Oh Well); Buddy Miles Express; Mystery Train (his current band); he also played and recorded with countless legendary musicians like our own Bob Segar and he played one-on-one with the one and only Jimi Hendrix. Jim has been an inspiration to many rock guitarists who looked up to him and learned from him - like Eddie Van Halen, Ted Nugent. In fact, Ted was quoted in a 2006 VH1 interview as saying: "I'm the only guy in Rock'n'Roll that plays that hollow body jazz guitar and it's because in 1960 I saw Jimmy McCarty creating those big fat full chords like I do on "Stranglehold"; I learned that from Jimmy McCarty. Remember the name Jimmy McCarty. He is as important as Bo Diddley and Chuck Berry and Les Paul ...A god on guitar."
"Oh Well" I recorded this on my camera - it is dark and not the best sound since I was right by the speaker - but Jim's solo is amazing!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lFSCMiBy6-s
Well, need I say how phenomenally well these guys played together and how amazing the music sounded and how fantastic of a time I had? Words can't express it anyway. I will never forget it - that is for sure. And to add more fun into the mix, my dear friend Monica Reed had an afterglow party at her lake view home in Grosse Pointe Park. She is such an amazing woman - with so much energy, charisma, beauty and talent. I will write more about her - an admirable woman of integrity - in the near future on my Sacred Footing blog.
Jim McCarty continues to entertain his fans (blow us away with his incredible talent, skill and passion) around town at places like the Blue Goose Inn in Saint Clair Shores and Memphis Smoke in Royal Oak. He is even better these days, if that is possible, according to one of his close friends; well-known guitarist and studio musician: Vince Knight.
Jim and Vince will be playing together Wednesday, October 17 at the Blue Goose Inn at 28911 Jefferson Avenue, St. Clair Shores. Michigan. For information call 586-296-0950.
If you live in Michigan, especially the Detroit metropolitan area; or you will be traveling through - do not miss the opportunity to see and hear one of the greatest guitarists of all time, Jim McCarty.

Now, getting back to how music heals my soul: it's funny how sad music, like the blues and songs written to invoke the pain hidden inside, can actually heal one's heart and soul in a gentle and loving way. One of my girl-friends and I had a code saying; "It's a Sarah kind of day," when things in life were less than good . . . when things in life had us depressed . . . referring to Sarah McLachlan, the melancholy goddess of gloom and contemplation.

Bernie Taupin said it best when he wrote the lyrics for the Elton John song: Sad Songs

Guess there are times when we all need to share a little pain
And ironing out the rough spots
Is the hardest part when memories remain
And it's times like these when we all need to hear the radio
`Cause from the lips of some old singer
We can share the troubles we already know

Turn them on, turn them on
Turn on those sad songs
When all hope is gone
Why don't you tune in and turn them on

They reach into your room
Just feel their gentle touch
When all hope is gone
Sad songs say so much

If someone else is suffering enough to write it down
When every single word makes sense
Then it's easier to have those songs around
The kick inside is in the line that finally gets to you
and it feels so good to hurt so bad
And suffer just enough to sing the blues

Sad songs, they say
Sad songs, they say
Sad songs, they say
Sad songs, they say so much

And that's how the blue's heals my blues.

You Are Beautiful

For all of us who need to be reminded today...

For anyone who needs more than a reminder . . . if you have been brought down by words - abusive words by your partner in a relationship, seek support and get help. You don't have to live in that situation. Visit this blog Dangerous Liasons
Because sticks and stones can break your bones, but words can break your soul. I know, I lost 21 grams somewhere in the last two years. Now, I'm trying to gain it back. Anyone have some "diet" suggestions . . . food for the soul?

A Groupie of the "Formerly Ofs"

We pulled into Pine Knob Amphitheater early; at about 5:45 pm. (I know it's called DTE now, but only by the corporate suits - it will always be Pine Knob to all of us here in Michigan!) Great White was headlining the concert that evening. The first band, L.A Guns, was to go on at 7:00 pm, so the parking lot was still quite empty for the most part. About sixty cars were scattered throughout the lot and coolers of beer (my guess . . . "Bud") were being unloaded and opened as eighties metal rock played from car stereo speakers. The tailgating parties were about to ensue as the mood of a decadent decade was re-created.

Debbie (my crazy rocker chick friend - Janice's incarnation) and I walked up to the "will call" window to get the tickets my friend Mike left for me.

Mike Fasano is a lead drummer from L.A. (Burbank). He played with the eighties band, Warrant. Among his many other current musical projects and band gigs, Mike is now back together and touring with some of the original Warrant band members, including lead singer Jani Lane (pictured in the above photo taken back stage after the concert. I am the 'groupie' in the shot).

Debbie and I passed through the gates, bought a couple of seven dollar beers from the Budweiser welcoming committee and walked around to enjoy the water falls and gardens. The summer evening was beautifully typical of Michigan summers; partly sunny and very humid with the temperature being in the high eighties - everything was in or from 'the eighties' that night (with 'high' being optional).

People watching was especially entertaining . . . big hair everywhere . . . mall bangs, long rock-n-roll hair and the eighties signature look - the mullet (as it had been said: 'business in the front, party in the back!'). I was truly transported back to 1986, that was until some karaoke guy started singing a horribly flat crappioke rendition of Bob Seger's "Old Time Rock-n-Roll."
Can't someone shut him up? Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease?

The crowd also consisted of many younger fans - children's arms being rocked and rolled about by their enthusiastic parents and teenage boys who are wise enough beyond their years to know rock and roll will never die.

And the outfits! I guess a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do to get the attention of the rock stars . . . unless the girl's lucky and has a friend in the band like me! So, that saved me some cash and a trip to Lover's Lane - I wore my worn in and dearly loved jeans and my old Harley boots. Oh, and of course a shirt. But, the rock fashion spectacular was a hoot to watch. A hoot I say!

The L.A Guns opened the show. They really warmed us all up - but then rock and rollers are always ready for a reason to jump and scream and get all hot and sweaty.

Jani Lane and the "Formerly Ofs," (that's Mike's band) were up next. I took some great shots from the second row. Everyone that close closely eyes everyone else . . . girls sizing each other up competition style to see who will get further and farther back stage; guys looking for potential after show action with the thinking that because they are so close to the stage they are themselves are rock stars in the second degree. I was so proud of Mike and so happy to see him perform with his old gang at a big venue again. This is what he does - he is an L.A. rock musician/drummer - and he loves it.

Jani Lane and Chad

Lane, Shawn and Dario ( the boy wonder at the 'just turned' age of eighteen)

The meet and greet signing after the show

Did I feel guilty not having to stand in a long line for this hug? Hell No!

After some more beer, a few Doritos and a Twinkie backstage, (yes, that's how rock stars party! They eat Twinkies - and that folks is the real answer to how and why Rock and its Rollers will live forever - have you ever seen a molded Twinkie?) Debbie and I went side stage to catch some of Great White's act.

To see that sea of people - the packed crowd - from that angle is amazing! I could feel the energy being poured forth from all of the appreciative fans who were slowly pushing their way toward the stage as the night got later and later.

And that was my groupie experience.
I am a former groupie of the "Formerly Ofs."
The end
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Frank Zappa was the REAL poncho

"Now is that a real poncho or is that a Sears poncho, heh?" Frank Zappa asks the 'mystery man' in his song, "Cosmic Debris." And he should know - he did know - 'cuz he was the REAL poncho. He was as real as it gets down here.

Friday evening, I went to hear Zappa Plays Zappa (ZPZ) at Meadowbrook Theater . . . that's Dweezil (Frank's son) Zappa's band - his labor of love, blood, sweat and tears to continue the legacy of his father's brilliant music. They were amazing. Dweezil, with still yet a little guidance from above - his father on guitar and vocals for a couple of songs via the big screen in the sky (above the stage, that is) - never missed a beat, which is saying MUCH more for his own talent than a simple "awesome job" compliment with a pat on the back. Because, anyone familiar with the huge, though mostly non-commercial, success of Frank Zappa (he recorded and mostly self-produced over a hundred albums) and The Mother's (actually motherfuckers - since the term also refers to skilled musicians) of Invention, knows that Frank was one of the greatest, most talented guitarists of his time. He was also a composer; a conductor; a musical genius; an intelligent, knowledgeable and outspoken political advocate . . . a prolific mad man. And it is impossible to imitate him and nearly impossible to play his intricate compositions. (Among other serious and acclaimed orchestral works devoted to Zappa's music, the London Symphony Orchestra, in January of 1983, released a double album of Frank's compositions.) Especially difficult is "G-Spot Tornado" from "Jazz From Hell" which was originally executed, by Frank, on a Synclavier. He was skeptical whether humans could actually perform it, but Dweezil and ZPZ did. For three hours they played other favorites like, Dumb all over (a little ugly on the side); Dupree's Paradise; Willie The Pimp; Joe's Garage (wind up working in a gas station); San Ber' dino; Muffin Man; and Yo Mama:

"Maybe you should stay with yo' mama
She could do your laundry 'n cook for you
Maybe you should stay with yo' mama
You're really kinda stupid 'n ugly too"

When I was about seventeen, I went to see Zappa himself, in Detroit. After the concert, my friends and I went around back to the stage door and, as fate would have it, we met Frank. He was a most gracious person and took a few minutes of his time to actually look at us and talk to us. It is a moment in time that I treasure - and even more so now that he is no longer here on this planet making new music (although his unreleased recordings are being newly released to the public).

"I don't give a fuck if they remember me at all."

Notable Zappa Quotes:

"It isn't necessary to imagine the world ending in fire or ice – there are two other possibilities: one is paperwork, and the other is nostalgia."

"Remember there's a big difference between kneeling down and bending over."

"Drop out of school before your mind rots from exposure to our mediocre educational system. Forget about the Senior Prom and go to the library and educate yourself if you've got any guts. Some of you like Pep rallies and plastic robots who tell you what to read. Forget I mentioned it. This song has no message. Rise for the flag salute."

"On a personal level, Freaking Out is a process whereby an individual casts off outmoded and restricting standards of thinking, dress, and social etiquette in order to express creatively his relationship to his immediate environment and the social structure as a whole."

"If you wind up with a boring, miserable life because you listened to your mom, your dad, your teacher, your priest or some guy on TV telling you how to do your shit, then YOU DESERVE IT."

"The most important thing to do in your life is to not interfere with somebody else's life."

"The rock and roll business is pretty absurd, but the world of serious music is much worse."

"Being interviewed is one of the most abnormal things that you can do to somebody else. It's two steps removed from the inquisition."

"Let's not be too rough on our own ignorance, it's what makes America great!"

"May your shit come to life and kiss you on the face."

"The first thing you have to do if you want to raise nice kids, is you have to talk to them like they are people instead of talking to them like they're property."

"The creation and destruction of harmonic and 'statistical' tensions is essential to the maintenance of compositional drama. Any composition (or improvisation) which remains consistent and 'regular' throughout is, for me, equivalent to watching a movie with only 'good guys' in it, or eating cottage cheese."

"There is more stupidity than hydrogen in the universe, and it has a longer shelf life."

"Information is not knowledge. Knowledge is not wisdom. Wisdom is not truth. Truth is not beauty. Beauty is not love. Love is not music. Music is THE BEST..."

"Beauty is a pair of shoes that makes you wanna die."
AMEN BROTHER!

Something . . . Anything

"You happy now?" Todd toyed with the audience after he played one of his old songs, "I Saw the Light."

"Me happy now, Todd!" my voice still able to scream at that time.

Since I was twelve, I have had a mad crush on Todd Rundgren. I imagined that one day we would be married (couldn't he feel that this was so right?), so I practiced (over and over again) writing my first name in front of his last name, just in case.

When I was seventeen, I saw him in concert for the first time. Towards the end of the concert I made a mad dash for the stage (storming the stage as we called it back in the day before so much visible brute security). There I was running down the main isle like a teenage bride in blue jeans and a T-shirt. I made it all the way and managed to grab his extended hand. I held Todd's hand. I could live with that if nothing else.

The years went by - boyfriends, husbands, children, life in general - but no signs of Todd. Oh well, I knew I couldn't have everything I ever wanted. Still, deep inside was that teenage girl with a crush and a dream that lived on, and no one could deny me that painful pleasure.

Now, some thirty years later I am sitting a few rows away from the stage at the State Theater and on the stage Todd is playing guitar and singing lead vocals for The New Cars. I am thrilled; a giddy teenager all over again. I look at the aisle. I try to cast the thought from my mind. I am an adult woman now. I can't go screaming down that isle. Stop it.

In the end, I didn't do it. I kept my composure and God rewarded my newfound mature behavior. After the concert, as I walked along the outside of the building towards to parking lot, Todd exited the stage door to get into his tour bus. There were only about five or six of us (fans) around and we called for him to come over. He did, ever so graciously. And in that moment, my teenager with a crush became a woman filled with respect for this man who has gifted the world with his musical and songwriting talents, his creativity, innovativeness and genius mind. And with that, I shook his hand and had him autograph my ticket stub (thanks to a man who had a pen). I met Todd Rundgren. I could live with that if nothing else.

Now, with an hour and a half into the official day of giving thanks, I can add to my long list of things for which I am grateful to God: Todd Rundgren, the end of a very long teenage crush, and, oh yeah, the man with the pen.

So, back to life. Ah, but what a sweet slice of the pie that was, and before dinner. (That's not cheating, that's called living!)

And no matter what happens from this point on . . . wherever life takes me . . . I will still remain hopeful in some quiet way because as Todd once wrote . . . A Dream Goes on Forever.