The Competition of Music

I wrote this article about a week ago... only a few days before the untimely death of it's primary subject, Gary Moore. As a guitarist, Gary was the single biggest influence on my playing over the last ten years, at least. Luckily, he left us with many albums and videos to enjoy and continue to be inspired by. The article remains as I wrote it... with references to him in the present-tense.                                    ~Raven Storm

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Music is art, not sport.  Do we argue about who's better between Michaelangelo and Picasso?  Well, some people might, but they're the people who don't appreciate it for what it is.

Gary Moore

Evey musician has their own style, and they all utilize technique in a different way.  Some players are overly technical, and that's all it is (Yngwie and Vai clones).  Some have a great sense of feeling and melody, and combine it with super human technique (the REAL Steve Vai, Satch, Yngwie, Eddie, etc...).  Others have  awesome chops, but are known more for their sense of feeling and passion in their playing (Gary Moore, Stevie Ray), and then you have those that may not have developed face-melting licks, but play a single note like few people can (Santana, Page, Clapton, etc...).

So what do you base a competition on?  I could list many bands and musicians that I would rather listen to someone mowing their lawn... but that would only serve to offend and alienate those who do like those artists, and make me appear very closed-minded toward music.  Does it mean that I think the bands or musicians I like are better?  No... that would be arrogant.  It just means I have a different taste in music.

The recent competition at Sam Ash was based on "shredding"... a word I have always disliked, and have disliked even more that it's often been attached to me because of a short period of my life during my 20's when all I cared about was playing fast (the "Yngwie Effect").  I won a similar contest put on by Guitar Center about a decade ago, and was sent to L.A. to compete in the regional finals where I performed in front of Steve Vai, Paul Gilbert, and the esteemed mother of Randy, Deloris Rhoads.  There were shredders galore there, but it was won by.... an acoustic player.  He was simply more musical than the rest of us.  I feel they judged it correctly, and the right guy won.

Although the experience was fun, it was also very eye opening, and only served to solidify my belief that music is not competition.  I used to race BMX, fight in karate tournaments, and still play basketball (poorly...), and if I get the itch for serious competition again, I'll get back to one of those.  If I can get back to training like I want, I may return to tournament fighting... but when I pick up the guitar, it's about creating something, not performing a better kata or hitting a jumpshot over a defender.

As long as two guys pick up guitars, people will try to judge who's better.  I always hated to hear people trying to judge who's better between Dave Murray and Adrian Smith (Iron Maiden), or Chris DeGarmo and Michael Wilton (Queensryche).  They're ALL great players, and their differences in styles are what made their respective twin-guitar approaches great.  Dave and Chris are the more bluesy players, where Adrian and Michael covered the more technical solos.  Taking one of each and putting them in the same band creates a great contrast of styles, and compliments the music.  Most hard core fans of either band can tell which guitarist is soloing because of their styles, and regardless of whether it's bluesy or shredding, it's all great.

So how do you judge the talent between a blues player and a shredder?  They both required a good amount of practice ... usually years.  The main difference I put between those two types of players is that one practices more on the physical abilities, and the other does most of it in his head.

The best players  really do both.  I explained to a young guitarist at my friend's house the other night that putting a lot of time into your chops is a great thing.  You can never have too much technique... as long as you know what to do with it,  ...and you know what to play, and what not to play.  You have to put a lot of time into developing advanced technique on the guitar.  But sometimes you have to put that guitar down, and work on the music in your head.  The point of this lesson to him?  We are limited by our physical abilities.  We will always be able to think beyond what our hands can do... therefore, giving your mind a chance to think about music without the guitar in your hands is very important.  That's where the feeling and creativity comes from, and when you come up with something in your head that you can't do, you sit down and work it out...therefore, you progress, and you're now playing stuff that you might not have come up with had you not put that guitar down and walked away for a little while.

Gary with his Peter Green-modified
Gibson Les Paul

I pulled up the Gary Moore video of "Cold Day in Hell," and had him watch it.  It's a display of simply incredible feeling and passion on the guitar.  There are many moments showing what you can do with a single note, and stretch it over several bars... and then of course there were the signature, face-melting licks that remind you that although Gary's niche is blues, he can shred with the best of them.... and I mean anybody.

Gary is also a great blues singer, and writes amazing songs.  I told this young guitarist that if he was on a desert island with a guitar and one CD, it should be a Gary Moore CD, and I stand by it.  But of course, he's not stranded on an island, and I recommended that he listen to everybody, and learn what he can, but ultimately develop his own style and voice on the instrument.  He's a very talented young man, and is certainly on the right track.

As for the rest of us... music is to enjoy, not to argue about who we think is better.  It's all a matter of taste, and although I would rather listen to The Doobie Brothers than Slipknot, that doesn't mean I don't appreciate the talent those musicians have, and with their legions of fans, they're doing something right, even if it doesn't appeal to me.  It's the same as preferring Mozart over Bach.  Can you really argue about who's better?

Is the R&R Hall of Fame Arrogant... or Just Plain Stupid?

How can a band that has been around for over thirty years, written some of the greatest rock and roll songs in history, has a star on the Hollywood Sidewalk, and has become a cultural icon referenced in everything from TV cartoons to big screen movies... NOT be in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame? Second... should we really care?

It doesn't make any difference to Rush... the trio from Canada who didn't just raise the bar of musical excellence in rock, but put it completely out of reach for nearly everybody. Sure... many great bands have come and go... and a few are still around... but even the best of them would have to put a hell of a lot of practice in to play the simplest of Rush songs, if that word can even be used to describe any of them.

Yet, in spite of the level of musicianship Rush maintains (still able to perform at the same level they did in their early twenties), they managed to become a commercial success as well... not a common combination. However, as much as fans of Rush are often infuriated over the HOF's snub of them in favor of such acts like Run DMC, the band couldn't care less. The fact that they are still playing arenas and major festivals after 30 years, when most of the HOF acts that are still around are lucky to be playing clubs, is enough for them...and most of their fans, like me.

Their performance in Rio at the end of the Vapor Trails tour drew over 40,000 people just a few years ago. Not bad for the same three middle-aged guys who have been in this band since 1974. They continue to record and perform, and will be playing at the MGM Grand Arena on the 14th of this month... a show I will certainly be attending.

So the question remains... How can the HOF continue to ignore the accomplishments of a band like Rush when many of the artists in the Hall of Fame are virtual unknowns today? One theory is the backlash against "Progressive Rock," which would also include bands like Yes, ELO, and Emerson, Lake, and Palmer. Some consider "Prog Rock" to be arrogant and pompous... as if it's bad to develop a superior level of musical proficiency and then USE it! It seems to go against the original vibe of rock and roll... simplicity.

It doesn't take the best musicians on the planet to play the average rock and roll song. If you can chord an A, E, and a D...without even worrying about the major/minor tonality (a difference of one note that is often ignored anyway), then you can play a lot of stuff. Basic knowledge of the A and E minor pentatonic scales will get you through a lot of the solos, and adding one technically out-of-key note gives you the "Blues" scale. Now, I"m certainly not saying that this basic knowledge is going to get you around the guitar neck like Jimmy Page, Gary Moore, and certainly not Steve Vai. The more you practice, the better you get... but be careful! If you get too good, you may be practicing yourself right out of the Hall of Fame!

They don't look like rock stars. They don't wear spandex and have big hair.. although bassist Geddy Lee is the only one to maintain a long hair style through the years. They look like everyday people. You might bump right into one of them in the mall and never know.

One of them looks like the guy that could be living a few doors down from you, and leaves for the office every morning at 8:00. Tall, well-dressed, and probably drives a nice car, like many people who work a 9-5 job... but his name is Alex, and he just happens to be the guitarist of one of the greatest bands of all time.

The other looks like a college professor... highly intelligent, well spoken, but very shy. He likes motorcycles and traveling, and writes brilliant books about it, but turns out that he is one of the greatest drummers on the planet, not to mention the one who primarily comes up with Rush's incredibly intellectual lyrics...Neil Peart.

But does a musician who takes pride in his craft and practices to a high level of efficiency deserve to be called "arrogant' or "pompous?" I've met many of my heroes.. like Steve Vai, who by general consensus is considered one of the greatest guitarists on the planet... and he's not arrogant. In fact, he's very shy, which can often be mistaken for arrogance...unfairly. Of course, when he gets on stage, he's a maniac... but that's the transformation many musicians make when they step up on that stage.

So where's the arrogance in Rush? Is it in their 7/8 time signatures? The complex chord progressions? Geddy's ability to play keyboards, bass, and sing at the same time? It certainly can't be Alex, who loves to goof around on stage and does his best to cause train wrecks by messing with Geddy and Neil throughout the show. It's certainly not Geddy... for as overworked as he is on stage and pulls it off flawlessly, he doesn't appear to have an arrogant bone in his body.

Or is it the misunderstanding of the reclusive Neil Peart? His stone-faced concentration when he performs? Neil says that his expressions are only a product of the focus required to play the songs...otherwise, he really is having fun up there. He suffered unimaginable tragedies in his life in the late '90's, losing his wife and daughter... so after a five year hiatus during which he wrote his book, "Ghost Rider," it was decided that he would be forever excused from the customary meet-and-greets the band would do before every show, and not expected to do interviews to shelter him from the questions that would naturally bring up painful memories. Any reasonable person would understand that. Add to that the fact that he is probably the most shy member of the band to begin with.

Yet, these three unassuming guys have created music that you would have a hard time avoiding if you listen to the radio or watch TV at all. Even Chester Cheetah, during an episode of "Family Guy," proclaims "THERE IS NO F***ING DRUMMER BETTER THAN NEIL PEART!!" while listening to the iconic "Tom Sawyer," (and snorting a line of powdered cheese).

Rush has become woven into our cultural DNA. There's not likely to be anyone on the planet over the age of 10 who has not heard any number of Rush songs, especially "Tom Sawyer," "Spirit of the Radio," "Free Will," or "Limelight." So to Hell with the "Rock and Roll Hall of Fame." Rush doesn't need them, nor do their fans. It would certainly be nice to see them get a little more recognition while they're still around as a performing act, but the loyalty of their fans is all they care about. They completely lack the arrogance necessary to hold any value in the opinion of a private organization of truly pompous idiots who think they know what rock and roll is all about. We should think the same way, and enjoy them while they're still around... hopefully for a long time to come.

Rush Rocks the MGM Grand

Okay... So I just watched three guys in their mid-to-late 50's pull off Rush's entire "Moving Pictures" album, along with a whole lot of other great songs, absolutely flawless. I'm not sure it was actually Rush.... If it was, they're not human.

It's never a happy thing to see your heroes decline. It's most common with athletes, naturally, when they play for a while after their skills begin to deteriorate with age. Nobody likes to think about Michael Jordan's couple of years with the Washington Wizards, because he wasn't the Michael Jordan that won six championships with the Bulls. Musicians go through it too. It's a lot of pressure to put on three past-middle-aged guys to pull off something they did in their 20's and 30's... aside from the fact that it's stuff that most musicians at any age would have a hard time doing.

Apparently, we don't have to worry about that happening to Rush anytime soon.... and to make this clear, I don't want to make this about age. There's no reason why, at nearly 60 years old, they shouldn't be able to play that way. They all look very healthy, and by the looks of it, they might be able to pull this off into their 70's if they wanted to. They seem to be having more fun as they go on as well... beginning "Working Man" with a reggae intro, and even a polka intro for the classic "La Villa Strangiato."

Those of you who may be familiar with the verbal fellatio I have been handing this band over the last few months on my Facebook page, and perhaps have grown tired of it, this will be the last of it... other than the occasional posted video, which is just a requirement of my page. If I don't post a Rush video at least once a week, I lose my Rush fanatic card. I don't want to do that...
As someone who has been completely over-loading on Rush over the last few months in anticipation for the show at the MGM Grand last night, my ear is pretty well tuned to the level of performance I see in the various videos and recordings I've been burying myself in. So it was with a somewhat knowledgeable ear that I listened with throughout their performance, and I wasn't disappointed. It's not that I was looking for them to slip up... it just didn't happen. Flawless... period.

Alex, Neil, and Geddy

Geddy Lee's playing and singing were both sharp... and I don't mean that in a musical sense of being out of key... I mean sharp...like a razor. There were only a few times where he may have sung in a lower register as opposed to the higher range of his youth, but it all sounded awesome, and his bass chops are as great as ever. He was even bouncing around the stage like a 20 year old, as he always has.

Alex Lifeson made me feel like a fool for overlooking him as an influence in my early years of playing guitar. I'm ashamed to have to admit it... I always loved listening to Rush, as with Led Zeppelin and many other bands, but like some other guitarists in the late-70's and early-80's, I never sat and learned a lot of Rush because my influences for playing came from Randy Rhoads, Michael Schenker, Yngwie, Steve Vai, etc. Alex didn't have quite the flair or technique that a lot of the other players had, so it didn't grab my attention that much.

How blind I was in my youth... and that's something I've come to realize in later years as I matured as a player, and something I greatly appreciate more and more every time I listen to him. His sense of melody, taste, and feeling are incredible, not to mention the structure of his solos and the chord progressions he uses in the songs. He's the perfect example that you don't have to do amazing sweeping arpeggios to be a great guitarist. If you took two young guitarists and had one listen to nothing but Alex and the other whatever he wanted, I would bet on the former being a better player in the long run. He'll be a very well-rounded guitarist with a lot of musical knowledge. That's worth a lot more than a 32nd note run with an arpeggio at the end of it (although that's always fun to do!!). =)

Alex's performance Saturday night was brilliant, as it always is. Rarely have I seen ovations like I saw that night for nearly every solo he did... during the songs. They must have extended his solo in "Working Man" at least an extra eight bars, and he completely ripped it to pieces. He also switched guitars for nearly every song, usually one of several gorgeous Gibson Les Paul's or his white Gibson 335, which he played through the entire encore. He also fit in his black PRS and yellow Telecaster. He has a collection any guitarist worth his strings would die for!

As for Neil Peart... okay, first of all... this guy is my favorite musician on the planet, regardless of what instrument I play personally, but I will try to remain objective. I sit here quite often riveted to videos of his solos from various tours, and although I can't play drums very well, I'm what you might call a drum aficionado... or connoisseur. I love watching a good drum solo... or just a good drummer. I know my good friend and past band-mate, Kevin Tutaj, was at the show somewhere, just as riveted to Neil as I was. I remember watching Kevin playing to Moving Pictures when we were 17 years old, perfectly... and that's all I really need to say about him. In light of that, what else could I say... he's good?? We texted each other a few times during the show, expressing our disbelief of what we were watching. Not because of age.... just the musical brilliance of it.

Some of Neil's solos over the years, like "The Rhythm Method," as well as "Der Trommler," "De Slagwerker," and "O Batterista," (all various ways of saying "The Drummer" in different languages, often depending on where it's recorded), feature many similar parts rearranged with various other improvisations to change them up. This solo was completely different, with very little recognizable material from other solos. In fact, the only similarity to past solos was the familiar 3/4 pattern he does with his feet of kick, high-hat, high-hat, over which he plays a variety of patterns in numerous time signatures over that 3/4 pattern. For non-musicians, that requires two different brains. I'm not sure where Neil keeps that extra brain, but it works well.

He began with the acoustic set, and then switched to the electric side as expected. His riser rotated to reveal his Roland V-Drum set with which he used a multitude of various percussion sounds. I'm not educated enough in the art of percussion to explain what was going on here... suffice it to say I was completely blown away. Kevin would be much more qualified to explain the various techniques and concepts Neil was doing.

At the end, of course, his riser spun back around and he went back to his roots of playing a Buddy Rich style Big Band song...this one titled "Love for Sale," written by Cole Porter (recently informed of this by Facebooker, Steven Rask). Neil used sequenced triggers to advance the melodic progression as he played. Again, I say this from an objective viewpoint, and I've watched a lot of drum solos by my favorite drummers... a lot of them young guys with a lot of talent... and this was hands down the best solo I've ever seen. The previous "Best Solo I've Ever Seen" was from the Snakes and Arrows tour... only a couple years ago. Again... this man is nearly 60 years old... and he still keeps getting better!

One of the reasons that Neil Peart has become one of my biggest inspirations is the fact that in 1994... already recognized as "one of the best drummers on the planet,'' he went to jazz percussion instructor, Freddie Gruber, to completely revamp his playing. Keep in mind the status that Neil had already established in the world of drumming, and he only wanted to get better! Learning this changed my own approach to playing guitar, and the reason I constantly practice and have enlisted the coaching of Matt Hennager, the guitar instructor at Sam Ash where I work... a brilliant guitarist and teacher who graduated GIT in Hollywood and has credits to lengthy to list here, although I certainly will at another time.

There was almost a surreal sense to me watching Neil Peart last night, having watched so much of him lately and also having recently read two of his books, "Roadshow" and "Traveling Music," and currently beginning the third, "Ghost Rider." A brilliant author as well as musician, Neil Peart is normally a very shy individual, and uncomfortable with the attention he attracts and the sometimes crazy lengths people go to meet him.  Many of those lengths turned into upsettling and bad situations that people create just for the sake of having a brief encounter with him. They never realize the effect it actually has on Neil. If you admire someone so much... why would you want to upset him?

In spite of his shyness in the public eye, he opens up quite a bit in his books, giving an intimate look into his life away from the stage. It's funny to have a sense of "knowing" someone when you really don't, especially when you actually know what his habits and routines are on a typical tour day.

For example, I don't know if he's traveling my motorcycle on this tour as he has for the last couple decades... but if so, he and his riding partner, (likely Brutus or the band's security director, Mike), would ride into town shortly before sound check sometime in the late afternoon. Time permitting, and if necessary, Neil might crawl under his bike and change his oil right there next to the tour bus that arrived earlier, after taking a more direct route from the previous show, (Neil would often take back roads and ride through small towns, occasionally running into unexpected and sometimes scary circumstances). After sound check, he will get together with whatever friends and family he may have at the show, often his wife, Carrie, but he would not do the public meet-and-greets that Geddy and Alex thrive in. After the terrible tragedies Neil suffered in 1997 involving his previous wife and daughter, the band decided to excuse Neil from public meet-and-greets and interviews, where the questions may often dig up painful memories. Thankfully, Neil has remarried and seems to be quite happy.

About a half hour before show time, Neil will go to what they call the "Bubba Gump" room... a small room attached to one of their trailers where he has a small practice drum set, and begin warming up (named for a sticker on the door, and his apparent resemblance to Tom Hanks). After the show, he would usually run straight for the bus, where the driver would already have a glass of The Macallan (Scottish Whiskey) waiting for him, and they would immediately take off. After waving at the crowd and jumping off the riser, he won't see Alex and Geddy until the next sound check. This certainly has nothing to do with not wanting to hang out with his band mates... they do plenty of that... but Alex and Geddy prefer to travel by the comfort of a private jet... where Neil prefers the rough and sometimes treacherous road on his trusty BMW motorcycle.

So seeing Neil this time around was almost like seeing an old friend.... in a way...

I went with my real friends, Anthony and Paul, and hooked up with a couple other friends there, Brian and Wayne. We decided to abandon the seats we had in the very crowded courtside section and went to the top of the balcony where we actually had a great view of the stage along with the entire packed Grand Garden Arena. It was amazing (somehow, the entire section got stoned... not sure why). ;)

I thought about my daughter, Nora (or Elizabeth, her first name, as she may prefer to be called now). She has also become a great classical musician, and would surely appreciate the talent being displayed on that stage this particular night. So beautiful and inspirational to me, I've never been able to build a relationship with her as I would like, and a great musical adventure may be the perfect starting point. However, she's currently in Iowa, the state of her birth, visiting family. Maybe someday in the future I can share this type of experience with her.

In that respect, Rush also performed a couple songs from their forthcoming album, which means that they will likely be back... very good news for any Rush fan. They were simply one of my favorite bands for a very long time. Now they ARE my favorite, and I hope they don't decide to hang it up anytime soon. There's something very special to see a band that has been around most of your life, especially when very few of them are left. There are some that have replacement members for those who have retired or died, so they're not the original lineups, but Rush remains intact.

Rush wrote much of the soundtrack to my life...especially songs like "Subdivisions," "YYZ," and "Tom Sawyer." I may never meet them, and I'm certainly not the type to force myself on them and create many of the situations that Neil has written about, but I'll be happy as long as I can continue listening to the music and seeing them perform it every so often. So, 'till we meet again...

Turning the Page...

So I walked in and said to Tom, my boss at Sam Ash, "third and long, at your own 30 yard line... you're sacked for another ten yards... what do you do?"
Tom, a really cool guy who played college linebacker and still has the build for it, replied as expected, "punt!"  He then asked what the analogy applies to, and I said, "my life..."

Except, after thinking about it, I'm not punting... I'm going for it.  To punt would be to remain in my current situation, which has been punting over and over and over again for the last twenty years.  I have an opportunity, like having Kurt Warner throwing to Issac Bruce back in the Rams' 1999 season... and I'm throwing it long...

Okay... enough with the football analogies.

Or some might just say that I’m about to do exactly what would make me a poster child for the “Mid-Life Crisis.”  They’re probably right…

So what is a mid-life crisis?  There‘s a lot of debate about the use of the word “crisis,” because it implies a negative situation… a crisis... although such a "crisis" can actually be a positive thing for many people, bringing on positive changes.  Some people just don’t change much over the years.  They may look or act a certain way not because of a “mid-life crisis,” but because that’s how he/she has always been.  I don't have long hair because it's a mid-life crisis... I've had long hair since my teens.  Maybe drastic changes in a person's life, especially if they’re single, aren’t a matter of mid-life… it’s a matter of:  it’s about time!

As I‘ve read, a mid-life “crisis” is more considered to be a period of reflection.  Knowing you’re at approximately half of your life-expectancy, give or take a few years, can cause you to think about what you’ve done, seen, and where you’ve been, and whether you need to get on with the rest of your life or waste it away crying about missed opportunities and soured dreams.

I’m getting on with it…

For those of us who are not lucky enough… or opportunistic enough… to have developed incomes that well exceed our needs, life can grab you like a wave and spin you to where you don’t know up from down.  There is no control at that point.  I remember a surfer hanging out on Huntington Beach telling me that you just tuck into a ball and hope you don’t hit anything too hard or sharp, but it’s going to take you where it wants.  That surfer analogy, although the theme plays a big role in this story, is a very bleak outlook on life.  A surfing accident can kill you a lot easier than economic strife, although it's a lot more fun.  I prefer to look at much of my recent strife as the opening of new doors and possibilities, rather than desperate, life-going-in-the-shitter moments.

That'll be me, soon...(right!)

This is another moment of laying myself wide open personally for the world to see.  I’ve had a few of those.   Scott Dickensheets’ intimate article he did on me in the Las Vegas Weekly back in 2003 (I can’t believe it’s been that long!), detailed not just my musical life that I try to put out there, but also many aspects of my personal life, and the struggles I was going through at the time.  There used to be a link for the article on their website, but I haven't seen it for a while.  When that magazine was out, it was the strangest thing to see people on the buses and bus stops actually reading about you while you’re standing six feet away.  A couple times I was recognized, and it was a surreal experience to talk to complete strangers who knew things about me that up to that point, only close friends knew.

Lead photo for the Las Vegas
Weekly article

Even the negative rebuttals, in response to the author's opinion of the band I was playing with at the time, only added to the surreal experience of it all.  I thank Scott for those experiences, giving me a small taste of what many people who put themselves in the public eye deal with on a much larger magnitude, and I was honored to be the subject of such a well written piece that won him a lot of praise as well.  So I managed to build a name to some extent here, but it didn't make it easier to find lucrative projects.
(Scott posted a link to the article here:  http://www.facebook.com/notes/scott-dickensheets/raven-storms-dream/470680710208)

I fueled commercial airliners for five years here at McCarran Airport...a job I really enjoyed.  But my move into the field of retail sales has not panned out well.  I'm not an aggressive salesperson.  I'm more the type who will let you know he's around if you have questions, but otherwise leave you alone.  That's how I like to shop, and from my experience, what most shoppers prefer.

But more aggressive tactics do result in larger paychecks... but that aggression comes hard for a rather introverted person like me.  Add to that a stretch of having to get by with part-time hours, and I felt that wave beginning to take my feet out.

Recently, my economic situation has fallen to the point that it makes my life-long desire to leave Las Vegas a matter of... "what do I have to lose?"  I have close friends in Orange County who are eager to help me break the hold this city has had on me for half of my life.  Once again, as if caught in a wave, I’ve grown to realize that hitting bottom really starts to get irritating after a while, especially when you hit those ever-more-frequent sharp ones... and I would be foolish to not accept an offer to help start over in a new place, permanently.  The last time I was ready to do it, I didn't have the benefit of someone on the other side willing to lend a hand. So... in the immortal words of Robert Plant, I'm "Going to California with an ache in my heart..."

This isn't about a negative opinion necessarily about Las Vegas... I know there are people who are quite fond of the city, but as the old cliche' goes, it's not the same town I grew up in. It wasn't always saturated with casinos on every block;  I remember when you didn't see the Las Vegas Strip littered with pornographic business cards;  I remember when you could look up at the lights of Fremont Street while you're cruising your '69 Chevelle down it, with seven of your friends stuffed in the back seat (of course, the one in the middle decides to barf...yes, a real event...).  Not to mention the complete and total lack of respect for history here.  Anything over 40 years old gets blown up to make way for the next biggest casino ever!!  I probably have a bomb under my seat right now.

The day I figured out
Vegas kinda sucks...

So....[breath]... I've given this place forty years of my life, and I've never wanted to be the type to stay in one place that long anyway, although I have.  I've always had the mind of a "nomad," a word of Greek origin describing a person, or usually communities of people, who move from place to place.  I always dreamed about what it was like to live for a while in one place, and move on to another.

I guess that influence was planted by one of my favorite television shows from when I was a kid, Kung Fu.  In the late 1800's, Cain (brilliantly portrayed by David Carradine), is forced to move from place to place while on the run from Chinese Authorities for accidentally killing a relative of the Emperor.  Another great show was The Incredible Hulk, in which Bill Bixby portrayed a tormented David Banner, who would constantly have to move because of his little anger problem, portrayed by Lou Ferrigno.
Often both characters would have to depart after acclimating himself into a community, leaving people behind who, if not for their problems, may be life-long friends.  The shows always ended with Banner and Cain walking off away from the camera, usually down country roads and freeways with a single bag over their shoulders.  Honestly, the similarity never dawned on me until writing this letter.

Both shows certainly had a sad element to them… a man with no family, no ties… alone, but not necessarily lonely… they made it look like such a terrible existence, but only to a point.  I was fascinated with the aspect of what they would see, the places they would go, and what they would discover.  They fed the romance that was developing in my mind about that kind of life.

Maybe I just had a sense of knowing I would be doing that one day... walking down that road with a guitar over my shoulder...

I have very little left here in Las Vegas anymore, and that's not meant to sound sad or result in sympathy, but rather the opposite.  I'm pretty excited.  It's the perfect time and perfect circumstances to do it. My parents are gone (real mother in Oregon), my daughter is in Illinois, and by boss, Tom, is being super-cool about recommending me for some music stores in the L.A. area. I'm not running from anything... I'm just starting over in a new, and for me, a better place.

C'mon!! It was just a little shake and
you want to move WHERE?!!

As for why California (as if anyone needs to ask that...), I've always been drawn to the ocean.  I always wished I would have grown up near the ocean, and I'm always jealous of people I know who have.  Of course, I'll be doing a lot more than sitting on a beach, but the calming effect it has on me, even being near the ocean, I can't explain.  If only I could have been like Stewie on "Family Guy," and talked some sense into my Grandparent's heads when they decided to move from L.A. to Vegas after the '71 earthquake.

Thanks to modern day marvels like the internet, a few hundred miles isn’t so far anymore, so the friends I have here won’t really be that far away.   Kenpo Grandmaster, Larry Tatum, also has his main school in the L.A. area, and I desperately want to get back to martial arts training.  The coolest thing is that I may be able to get to know my brother, Leif, who I haven't seen in 25 years.  He's not too far from where I'll be.

Fallen Grace... (L-R) Davyo,
Tarah, Danny, and Me

What has been difficult in this situation is that my good friend, Davyo, comes to me with what is definitely the best idea for a band I’ve heard in 20 years, and just knowing Davyo, I know it’s going to work… He's the coolest guy on the planet, and he knows how to do things the right way...  but this ball was already rolling.  It wasn’t very long ago that I fully committed to making this move in my life, I just didn’t realize it until I had to consider the implications of turning down this project with Davyo.  I was already dealing with the idea of telling Tarah from Fallen Grace that I'm leaving, because I really love playing with her...although I would be happy to make it back for gigs if she wanted me to.  I haven't yet spoken to her, but plan to the moment I finish this.  I know it's going to be difficult as well...
Of my intentions to leave Las Vegas for most of my life, I often said, “the only thing that would keep me here is a great band!”  Well, that… and starting a relationship with Maria three years ago, which only made her yet another victim of my immature, scatterbrained lifestyle.  An absolutely wonderful, beautiful soul, Maria is used to living a very stable, family-oriented life, having raised a houseful of kids... so she ended up with a middle aged rock and roll musician who hasn't cut his hair and still lives to be on stage, right?

We laugh about it now, but it was very difficult.  Especially since I developed relationships with the kids as well.  I still agree with her that "I would die," which is what she would always tell me after having to do something for me, (like find my keys, wallet, etc).  Thankfully, now that we’re past the difficult part, we are still dear friends, but I've been late three times this week because I couldn't find my keys, wallet, or anything else on the average morning.  Steve Perry's lyric in Journey's Faithfully, "loving a music man ain't all it's supposed to be," is really quite profound.  I know a few women who can tell you all about it.

At the time I met Maria, I actually had all my belongings in storage ready to move to Seattle.  I was staying with some friends for a couple weeks to build up another check, and I was to be gone on August 13, 2007.  On or about August 10, I got called to do a cruise gig out of Miami for at least a month, possibly more.  It was a disaster… I had to play over karaoke tracks and the leader thought he was Carlos Santana.  The whole trip had very few pleasant memories.  I came back three weeks later completely dejected, and decided to suspend my moving date for a few months.  Now, October 26, 2010, it’s three years and two months later, I have another opportunity to "go for it"… if I don’t take it, when would the next one occur?  Another three years?  Five years?  Ever?

I may eventually end up in Seattle, a place I've grown to absolutely love.  I have another dear friend up there I have known since we were roommates in the late '80's, when we were all wearing parachute pants and bandanas everywhere... but I'll be in L.A. for a while.  Hopefully, I'll make it to Europe next summer to refresh some contacts over there for a label release and possible festival performances. 

As for when this all begins... well, I'm losing my apartment... now.  I plan on being out of it by the end of the month, so that's when I'm gonna split.  I got the notice the other day, right after I began contemplating staying to join Davyo's project.  This was almost like a neon sign in my face telling me once and for all... "GET THE FUCK OUT OF VEGAS!!  IT'S TIME!!"

Pardon that rare, profane, expression, but that's what it felt like, and I knew in my heart (which has already been gone for a while), that it was time to go.  Of course, as I said, I'm still on Facebook, and I'm also planning on making it to Tommy Rocker's this Friday, and being at Feelgood's this Saturday night.  Burning Sky will be playing (my friends, Kelly Dorn and Davyo), and maybe I'll jump up with them on a song.  It will be my last blast in Vegas for a while!

I want to thank Tommy Rocker for letting me become part of his awesome world for the last ten years.   He helped me keep my sanity most of the last decade when I didn't have a band to play with by letting me come jam with him every weekend.  He'll never realize how much that really meant to me.  I met a lot of really cool people there, too... Joey V, Party Pete, The Stinson Brothers, and many more.

I thank Chris Diaz, who let me live for a year in the old house I grew up in.  I actually found a couple of my dad's old tools laying around!  That brings thoughts of some of the people I've known the longest... Mary, Kirk, Eric, Cherish, Becky and Maria... to name a few, and I wish I could have maintained closer relationships with them growing up and into adulthood.  Kirk and his brother Eric are the one's responsible for getting me into Led Zeppelin when we were kids (about 12), and that completely propelled me into another level of motivation to play guitar.  Up til that point, I was mainly studying classical and flamenco guitar, inspired by Charo.  Although I still love Charo and practice on the old classical as much as I can, watching Jimmy Page in action changed my life.

Lots of great memories with my other long-time friends, Dave Magalnik and Anthony Tirabassi, as well.

To all the friends I have here in Vegas, including my newer friends at Sam Ash... get in touch when you want to come out and hit some waves!!  Henry... thank the Gods you survived that crash, and I'll be back to do some recording with you!  To my friends in other places... well, not much changes there, right?  In fact, I'll be closer to some of you now.  But I'll see you all on Facebook, (although I would love to see everybody in person someday soon...especially my little girl, Liz.  I have a lot to make up to her, and that is the most important thing in my life now).

In closing (I know... finally...), I beg the understanding of those of my friends I may have not been in contact with yet, or that I may have made plans with that this puts a delay on.  I assure you, I'll be in touch, but my own head is spinning right now with the magnitude of what I have to do in just the next few days.  Lots of packing, little time.  I wasn't expecting it this quick, but like one of those unexpected big waves... sometimes life spins you around and you just have to roll up into that ball and let it take you, and you just hope you don't land on any sharp rocks...

Bill Bixby

Nomadic Moving Tips

By definition of the Greek word "nomad," they are traditionally communities of people who move from one place to another, rather than settling permanently in one location. There are an estimated 30-40 million nomads in the world. Many cultures have traditionally been nomadic, but traditional nomadic behavior is increasingly rare in industrialized countries.

Nomads seem to do what they do for a variety of reasons, and it's not always a bad thing.  Of course, in developed countries, migrating for food and weather purposes is rarely necessary, but many still do it from the need to see and experience new things.  Modern day travel also allows a person with a Nomadic nature to live in one place, yet still experience new places and cultures... finances permitting, of course.

Some people are "nomads" not by desire, but from the circumstances of their lives.  In my previous blog about my moving plans, "Spin Cycle," I touched on the seemingly born-in desire I always had to move around and travel.  I actually like the "process" of traveling... the packing, the planning, the transport (whether by car, bus, or plane), and the excitement of getting there... where many other people just want it to be over.

The many people in my life who have witnessed one of my many moving escapades are often shocked at how meticulous I am about packing and keeping everything organized.  It might look like a monster tornado hit my place during the process, but I have a method to the insanity.  Moving is never pleasant, but my many experiences with it have made me pretty good at it.

First of all... be prepared!
You may not be planning on moving, but trust me...even if you are financially stable and secure, life can throw some hellacious curveballs at you.  Any number of financial woes, family emergencies, or natural events... even crime... can cause you to decide to pull chocks and split.  The most common scenario, of course, is the nightmare roommate or relationship that isn't working out.  Something could happen tomorrow, good or bad.

Or you might just need a change...

Whatever the reason, I humbly submit my Nomad's Tips to Moving...

1. Keep a household inventory.      Do you know where all your cool shit is, and your prized possessions?  Usually, those are the things you want to pack first to keep track of them and move them to a safe place, if necessary.  If you've lived in the same place for a long time, you may have stuff buried under lots of other stuff.  It might be time for a little cleaning and organizing, just to refresh your memory, and make a list of those special items and where they are.Pretend you just got the notice on your door... or your roommate is flipping out... or your roof got blown off by a tornado... what would you pack first?  This is especially important for those who live with roommates.  Your stuff can get mixed together quite often, and keeping track of everything can save the hassle of having to go back for something you forgot...especially if the situation has soured.                                                                                                                                                                   
2. Be aware of storage units.       Where's the nearest storage facility?  Find out where they are in case you have to move stuff quick.  It's a lot easier to find temporary accommodations if necessary when you're not dragging everything you own with you.  Also, make yourself aware of the cost of renting a truck and where if you have to, and maybe even set those finances aside if you're in one of those delicate roommate scenarios or a touchy relationship.                                                                                                                                                                              
3. Music stores are great sources for boxes!        Most of the boxes that various types of music equipment come out of are  thicker than normal boxes.  Often they’re well reinforced to handle the weight of a heavy guitar amp or P.A. head.  Lots of sizes too.  Also, the long boxes that guitars and basses come in are great for holding long items like curtain rods, shelves, brooms, mops, gardening tools, a sword collection, etc.  No surprise that the bigger the brand name on the box, the better the box, such as Gibson, Martin, and Fender.  If you have posters or artwork in frames, the boxes that mixing boards come in are usually big enough to put several large poster frames in, plus padding.  Speaking of padding, guitars are usually shipped wrapped in a thin white foam, and it's perfect for glasses and other breakables.  Ask the guitar guys if they have some laying around.  If those lazy bastards have been DOING THEIR JOBS!! .... SELLING GUITARS!!... AND FILLING HOLES!!....(hi Justin, Will, Dave, Tree... and the rest of you at S.A... miss you guys!)...  then they should have some to give you.    Don’t worry about asking.  Not many music stores have bailers, so the warehouse guys will he happy to let you take some boxes off their hands!                                                                                                                                                                          
4. Keep weight in mind.    Two or three smaller boxes are better than one big monster box... and if you have friends helping you move, they'll still be friends afterward.  From my experiences working for Mayflower when I was younger, nothing sucks more than a big-ass box you can barely carry that also weighs 100 pounds.  You might be stuck carrying that one yourself.This is very important with breakables.  You DO NOT want to pack anything breakable in a big, heavy box.  You'll be very lucky if it's still in one piece in the end.                                                                                                                                                                         
5. Save those unique boxes.   If you have special items that came in some sort of molded foam or packaging, such as porcelain figures, small statues, or other collectibles…keep the packaging and the boxes.  There’s usually no better packing for many things than the box they came in.  You never know… You might even want to send it as a gift someday.                                                                                                                                                                         
6. Don’t pack all your socks,…and don’t throw away the singles, either!  If you only have three or four pair, or they’re all mismatched, you can go ahead and skip this.  But if you have a couple dozen pair, and more than a few singles laying around, put some of them aside.  They are great for packing delicates such as small statues, vases, collectibles, and such... you know... the stuff you threw away the boxes for.  They're great for glasses and coffee cups, too, (c‘mon… you think a clean sock is as bad as that dirty dishrag in the sink?  Most of those dishrags ARE old socks!). Slip it on like a condom, twist, and push it back through.  It’s better padding than newspaper.  Naturally, it doesn’t hurt the sock (as long as you don’t try to stuff a Sparklets bottle in it), and it can return to duty on your feet… or taking up space in your drawer… right after unpacking.  The 10-or-so shirts you have that don’t fit, or you never even consider wearing but you only have them because they say something cool… they work great too.  It also saves space in your suitcase.Throw pillows and blankets are great to pack those picture frames with.                                                                                                                                                                         
7. Number your boxes...…and make a master list of what you put in them.  This isn't the list of where everything is from above... it's the list of what's packed in the boxes.  It’s not that hard to keep a notepad nearby and jot down what you put in each box.  I’m sure we all have wished we knew where some special little thing we thought we wouldn’t need for a while is packed. It also helps in keeping track of the boxes you want to keep toward the front of a storage unit.  Trust me… having to pull all your shit out of a storage unit to get the Mothra-freakin' bottom corner box really sucks.                                                                                                                                                                           

Of course, the circumstances behind moving can be either extremely stressful (most of the time), or exciting.  If you're having to move at a moment's notice, it can be absolutely nerve racking.  But if you're lucky enough to be doing it out of the need for a positive change such as  relocating for a promotion or just the opportunity to start a new life in a better place, being prepared and organized can actually make the experience enjoyable and exciting...especially since you've eliminated the guesswork of what's packed where, and "...did I forget anything?"

Good luck!

Ode to Mike Culotta

 The Effects a Las Vegas Radio DJ Had on the Life of an Impressionable Young Guitarist

First of all, I won't claim to be one of Mike Culotta's best friends when I wasn't.  I barely knew him.... other than the fact that he was a voice that I practically grew up with on the radio.  He was only a few years older than me, but it seems like his voice has been a part of my life since childhood.

As a DJ for 92.3, and later 97.1 on the FM dial, it's hard to remember a time when I wasn't hearing him talk to me between the great classic rock tunes he played back in a time when dj's could play what they wanted.  Sometimes I would call into the station to request a song, but like many people, I was really only calling to make a connection with the voice I was hearing on the radio.  It was usually a very brief encounter, in which I would nervously choke out the name of the song I want to hear... usually a Led Zeppelin tune... and hear a click after a quick "okay, thanks for calling...."

One time I had the experience of hearing Mike actually say my name on the radio (my real name)... "here's a request for Stairway to Heaven from Lee..."  Hearing my name on the radio was one of the coolest things in the world.

Once I began to hang out at the local clubs, which was a little before I should have (I'd get in by carrying one of Mike Cromer's guitars as a roadie for my favorite local band, Little Sister), I would often see Culotta  hanging around with the prominent local musicians of the time at clubs like the Moby Grape, Main Gate, Kracker's, Club Rock, and several others.

Of course, with my shyness, I never had the nerve to approach people like him... or Freddie Woods, Lark Williams, Big Marty, or the other DJ's of the time.  They were as much rock stars as the real rock stars.  Sometimes I would find myself crossing paths with them, and in the course of trying to appear cool and composed, I would say something really stupid like a star-struck teenager and walk away feeling like I made a fool of myself.  But then, even Mike Cromer, Rachel, Dave, and the rest of the band had that effect on me (as much as people respect me for my playing, I am very open about the fact that Cromer was one of my biggest influences on the guitar during that very impressionable period of my life).

Over the years, I developed a familiarity with Mike Culotta.  I would often see him around town, and became much more comfortable approaching and talking to him as time went on, and I found him to be a very cool guy with an incredibly endearing personality.  I found that he was always engaging in a conversation, especially if you bring up the Pittsburgh Steelers.  Even though I am a Rams fan, I once had a wonderful conversation with him about how his team beat mine in the Super Bowl of 1979, and the irony of the movie, Heaven Can Wait, which came out the year before and featured a story line about the Rams meeting the Steelers in the Super Bowl, but with a different outcome. Technically, the Steelers were my second favorite team, since my Dad was Seneca Indian from Oil City, Pennsyvania, north of Pittsburgh.   For a moment, we were just two guys talking football, and he was so cool and personable that I forgot that he was the voice I had been listening to on the radio for most of my life.

In October of 2009, I was performing with Fallen Grace at Bailey's Sports Bar in Las Vegas, and my bandmate and close friend, Davyo, told me that Mike was supposed to be showing up.  DavyO, being a legitimate local celebrity in his own right, and a great musician as well... enough to intimidate the hell out of me when I began playing with him in Tarah's band... had been very close friends with Mike for many years.   I was pleasantly surprised that Mike recognized me and ended up sitting directly in front of me for the show... which made me incredibly nervous.  The last time he had seen me play was 20 years earlier when Little Sister allowed me on stage to play Led Zeppelin's "Rock and Roll," and I turned it into a ridiculous arpeggio-fest in my adolescent need to impress.  Of course, it was hearing a recording of that performance afterward that made me realize what the phrase "too many notes" really meant (in the words of actor, Jerry Jones, in the movie Amadeus).  Needless to say, I changed my approach to playing guitar that very night, with Cromer's incredibly tasty and melodic style that I admired so much, as an example of the direction I should go.

It was my first show with Fallen Grace that night last year... Laurie Swain's birthday party, as a matter of fact... and I was more concerned with playing the songs correctly and kept the solos quite basic... mostly improvised as I hadn't had the time to work many of them out. Culotta honored me with some incredibly meaningful praise, especially considering who he was and his experience being around great musicians, and later backed it up with a personal message on Facebook that I'll never forget, as well as a post on his own page regarding his opinion of the show (which can still be seen with a search back to October, 2009).  I looked at that night as the possible beginning of a new friendship with him.  The star-struck kid who eventually befriends a person he admires.

I never got to express the feeling I had of him mentioning my name on the radio so many years earlier, or even the Little Sister jam at the Grape.  I doubt he would even remember... but I feel very fortunate to have had that time of hanging out with he and DavyO, hearing some of the stories between them,  my brief moment of impressing him, and the kind words he had for me afterward.  He never made it to another Fallen Grace show, although I personally invited him to several of them.

I hate that my shyness prevented me from possibly becoming friends with him earlier.  It's a curse I've had my entire life.  Even DavyO, whom I have seen around town forever, I never really got to know until joining Fallen Grace, and I feel very fortunate to call him one of my closest friends now, along with Tarah and Danny.  I know that trait of shyness has sometimes been mistaken for other things... things that may make people hesitant to approach me.  There are many faces I've seen around Vegas over the years I have yet to meet and get to know. Some of them may be reading this, and  I hope those people realize it's not a matter of being aloof or arrogant...just shy, and a bit unable to get over that hump of the initial, "hey.... I'm Raven.  Nice to meet you..."

It doesn't help that I have a terrible memory.  I remember faces, but I rarely remember where I know people from.  So many years of so many gigs, it's very hard for me.  Even when working at Sam Ash, I would often see familiar faces, but not knowing where they're from would make me feel foolish in approaching them.  When I'm recognized, I do my best to remember, but rarely make the connection unless someone brings up the event or something to trigger the memory.

Mike Culotta is an example of a friendship I missed out on, and now it's too late.  To anyone who sees me around Vegas next time I'm in town... at Feelgood's, Tommy Rocker's, or anywhere else... please don't hesitate to say hi.  If I've met you before, but I seem to not be sure, please help me out my reminding me, and please don't be offended if I don't remember right away.  It's pretty hard to dig memories out of this black hole I call a brain...

As I wrote on the wall for the new Mike Culotta Tribute page:

Someday, somewhere... a child will be born, and he will have the gifts of a great voice and the ability to touch thousands of people with it.  He'll know music.... great music.  He will have a great vibe about him, and a warm spirit, and people will be drawn to him... great people.... and a few nuts like DavyO. He'll have a strange passion for the Pittsburgh Steelers, even if he's from Australia.  He'll probably feel a strange connection to a place called Las Vegas.

Wherever that child is, the people he meets and attaches himself to will be very lucky, just as we were. Have a good rest, Mike... and I hope to be one of those lucky people in the next life.

~Raven Storm

David Nearly Beats Goliath

It was almost the perfect circumstances to write a great David vs Goliath story, and I was mentally formatting it as I watched Matt Flynn lead the Packers down to the Patriot endzone for the game winning touchdown… until he got sacked with no time left, and it would change the theme of the story I was formulating in my head.

Who?  Matt Flynn…  Oh, that’s right…  unless you are an LSU or a big College Football fan, you probably wouldn’t recognize his name.  He was, for some reason that a lot of NFL scouts now have to answer for, drafted all the way down at number 209 in the seventh round of the NFL draft of 2008.

Sunday was Flynn’s very first start in the NFL.  Coming in as a backup to Aaron Rogers, who was out with a second concussion, he was the first backup quarterback to start a game for the Packers since… 1992??  Yes… since Brett Favre.  For nearly 20 years, if you were on the Packer’s roster as a backup quarterback, you had to invest in bench cushions, nice long books, and have your agent keep his ear open for a trade… ASAP... because otherwise, you weren’t getting on the field anytime soon.  The NFL’s own Iron Man, Favre, just missed his first start last week as a member of the Minnesota Vikings against the New York Giants.  His first!  That’s a streak of 298 games.   Rogers took over for Favre when he was traded to the Jets three seasons ago before joining the Vikings after one season.

On the other side of the field facing Matt Flynn was none other than Tom Brady.  That’s right…  The two-time Super Bowl MVP that even most non-sports fans know for his movie-star good looks and supermodel wife, and is one of the few athletes to become paparazzi bait.  He also happens to be… as hard as it is for me to say this… one of the most successful, if not one of the best, quarterbacks in NFL history.  Sounds like a rather lopsided fight… doesn’t it?

Tom Brady has carved the hearts out of many opposing football fans over the last ten years, starting with my Rams back in Super Bowl XXXVI.  He was the subject of the now-infamous "Tuck Rule," which saved the Patriots against the Raiders that season.  He's NFL royalty... the "Golden Boy," ...etc.  Nobody was giving Flynn and the Packers much of a chance in this game, for obvious reasons.  The Patriots were coming in with an 11-2 record, and had won most of their games decisively.  The Packers, at 8-5, boasted the #1 defense in the league to go against the Patriots #1 offense, but no matter how good your defense is, you’re looking at having to put up at least three or four touchdowns to beat the Patriots.  How is this 25-year-old, inexperienced, number 209 draft pick going to do that?

Well, it started with a very risky on-side kick after the Packers deferred the wining coin toss to the Patriots.  They recovered, but were only able to put up three points as a result.  Not getting a touchdown on that first drive would prove to be their undoing.  Regardless, the Packers punched the Patriots right in the mouth... hard.  Flynn was unflappable, and led the Packers to one score after another like a seasoned veteran… and if not for a little bit of confusion on the part of the entire offensive line on whether they had a time out left or not, they might have won of the biggest upsets in NFL history.

With about twenty seconds left, they came up a yard short of a first down, taking away the chance to spike the ball and stop the clock with enough time to run at least two more thought-out plays.  This young quarterback’s chance to shock the world by beating the best team in the league on their own field came down to clock management… and they didn’t manage it well.  Flynn got sacked with no time left, and they lost 27-31.

But in spite of losing the game, Flynn didn’t back down an inch from the mighty Patriots.  He threw for 251 yards on 24 of 37 passing, 3 touchdowns, and 1 interception (a pass the receiver should have caught).  Brady threw for 163 yards on 15/24 passing, 2 TD’s, and no INT’s.  Big plays on defense and special teams helped make up for Brady’s relatively low numbers.

Flynn’s composure was amazing, considering the circumstances, almost like he was simply playing ball with friends in his old playground of Robert E. Lee High School in Tyler, Texas.  Even after getting sacked at one crucial point in the second half, Flynn got up with a smirk on his face as if to say, “okay, whatever…” and promptly passed for a first down on third and long.

I seem to remember a guy back in 1999 by the name of Kurt Warner who had to step in with a similar level of experience and take control of a St. Louis Rams team that had put high hopes on their new quarterback, Trent Green.  Nobody was giving him much chance, either.  Warner’s stats in his first start that season?  28 of 44 for 309 yards, three TD’s, and two INT’s.  Kurt’s passing percentage was a little less than Matt’s and he threw one more interception, but he had 58 more yards and the win.  Still, very close to the same numbers as the projected First-Ballot Hall of Famer.  Warner won the Super Bowl at the end of that season, and broke many passing and touchdown records, including many of Dan Marino’s records.

Warner kept the job due to Green’s season-skipping knee injury at the hands of Rodney Harrison, then on the Chargers.  The Packers are currently still fighting for an NFC Wild Card spot, but Aaron Rogers is going to return, likely next week, so the next time we’re likely to see Matt Flynn might not be for a while, barring another concussion or injury to Rogers.  Flynn is in the middle of a four-year, $1.8 million contract, but now that he has been “exposed” in such a way, no doubt his agent is already fielding calls from interested teams should the Packers chose to cash in on Flynn’s skyrocketing value and trade for some veteran help in other areas.  It happens all the time.

The only way Flynn would likely remain a Packer past next season is if they feel that Rogers’ multiple concussions, and the attention that concussion injuries are getting lately, may result in a shortened career… or at least the need for a starting-caliber backup.  But if Flynn gets on the field and has any more games this, he’ll be getting a lot of nice offers from several teams in need of a QB when his contract is up, and the Packers will have to pay him a lot to keep him.  They usually won’t pay two quarterbacks that much money.

So I have a new favorite quarterback, (aside from current Rams QB, Sam Bradford)… and whatever team Matt Flynn lands on, I’ll be rooting for him…

My Football Identity

Considering the conversation taking place on my wall regarding football teams, I began a response, but figured I'd just blog it since the wall presents a space limitation.

Growing up in Vegas, kids just pick someone they like.   We don't have many pro sports there, and certainly not back then, so most picked teams for a variety of reasons.  We either liked the uniforms, the "character" of the nickname (Cowboys, Raiders, Redskins), or maybe their favorite animal represents a certain team (a lot of kids liked the Eagles, Bears, and especially the Dolphins. A lot of kids naturally llike to identify with pirates, cowboys, indians, and so forth.

Of course, there were always the more serious fans, even as young kids.  The one's who probably wore their dad's favorite teams' pajamas, a mini helmet, and certainly had a logo football they learned how to throw touchdowns to the dog with.  They were usually pretty hard core about their dad's teams, but occasionally they ended up picking a different one.

There were also a few regional connections also, with San Diego, L.A. Oakland, San Fran, and Denver not too far away.The Rams were in L.A., and there was no Phoenix team.

I never really could decide, but then, I didn't really have that much of an interest in my early years.  All I saw were a bunch of large men in tights running around after a funny-shaped ball until one of them kicks it through a big "H," which they get really excited about.  Generally, it just seemed like the object was to simply knock everybody over, which was still fun to watch even if I didn't understand why they were doing it.

But what I did understand was going to the movies.  I must have made my dad sit through "Jaws" ten times when it came out.  In 1978, I went to a movie my dad actually wanted to see.... "Heaven Can Wait."  It's about the quaterback of the Los Angeles Rams, who's spirit is pulled from his body prematurely, and the angels who made the mistake have to figure out how to put him back, because the body had been cremated.  It's a brilliant movie.

I liked the Rams' uniforms.  I was drawn by the horns on the helmet, and I immediately wanted anything with that logo on it.  The next thing I knew, that team I saw playing in the fictional Heaven Can Wait Super Bowl was in the real Super Bowl....against the same team!

I remember my dad talking about how funny it was that the Super Bowl following the release of the movie had the same two teams in it, but the outcomes were different.  The Steelers won that game, but I was hooked.  I wouldn't go anywhere without my Rams hat (which I still have buried in storage).  If anything I had didn't already have the Rams' logo on it, I drew it on.

So... that's the story on how I picked my favorite team.  There weren't many good years as a Ram fan, though.  I had to go to sportsbooks... usually the Hilton right by where I lived for many years.... to see Rams games because they were never shown regionally.  I would be the only guy in there wearing a Rams jersey, and I would just hope they didn't lose too badly.  Losing by less than ten points was an exciting game.

Then.... Rodney Harrison took out the Rams' new quarterback, Trent Green.  Trent Green was the messiah... he was to deliver us long-suffering Rams fans from the pit of losing Hell...  But the Charger's Harrison, who had a reputation as a dirty player for most of his career, takes Trent down and tears up his knee to a collective groan throughout Ram nation (located by this time in St. Louis).  The previous season had finished 3-13 under Tony Banks, and the current backup was some guy named Kurt Warner from the arena league, so most people predicted a ONE-WIN season.... MAYBE!

Well... that season went ok.

Jets Back Up the Talk

So I made the decision to skip the last day of NAMM… a pretty cool day if you’ve saved a few bucks.  On that day, companies sell off much of the merchandise they brought to the show to save the shipping costs of bringing it all back, and adding to the potential profit of doing business at NAMM.  I have bought up many packs of strings, straps, picks, and other treasures for almost nothing in the past.

I also felt the itch to exercise my ambition of pursuing a degree in journalism (thanks owed to the encouragement of many of my friends), and write about the big game between the New York Jets and the New England Patriots (okay… after two days of walking around NAMM, these really flat, 44 year old feet were done.  I wasn’t going anywhere…).  

So, as for the game…

Rex Ryan hasn’t put himself in a very positive light with his personalization of the last couple games… calling out Colts quarterback, Peyton Manning, and later Patriots coach, Bill Bilechik.  That in itself seemed ridiculous to many, since Manning is simply doing what he gets paid millions of dollars to do:  win games.  …and he does it well.  Unless there was a behind-closed-doors incident between the two, I doubt Manning ever felt anything personal toward an apposing team’s coach.  At least, not until that game.

Feeling like that against another coach is a little more understandable, especially since Ryan and Bilechik know each other well.  But his comments were not without respect.  He made it clear that he recognizes the achievements of those he’s speaking of, and especially Belichik, who he described as possibly the greatest NFL coach of all time.  Ryan just aimed to be the best coach that day.

The words of Antonio Cromartie may have been more heartfelt, dropping the f-bomb along with more colorful language in regard to Tom Brady.  Of course, Cromartie plays directly against Brady, and personal feelings between them would be understandable as well, and the trash talk between players is common.  Ryan, however, didn’t back away from Cromartie’s words, and actually supported them… reiterating that you’re not supposed to like your opponents, especially this time of year.

The Patriots, have certainly caused many personal feelings for many NFL fans. But fans are not the coaches of other NFL teams that are about to play the Patriots in the second round of the playoffs, and making those feelings public.

Then I began to consider that maybe Rex Ryan isn’t quite as crazy as he appears to be by picking fights with a few of the greatest the NFL has had at what they do.  It could simply be a more aggressive method of motivation for his young quarterback and the rest of his team.  An athlete rarely plays harder than when personal feelings are involved.   The Jets players absolutely love their coach, which is even better than his players simply respecting him.  He’s taken many bullets for his players, and is the perfect example of the “player’s-coach.”  If it’s personal to Rex Ryan, it will be personal to his team.  Besides, although Mark Sanchez is only a second year quarterback, he has already beaten the Patriots before.

In the beginning, it almost appeared that the Jets were handing this game to the Patriots with a bow on it.  They shot themselves in the foot the whole way during their second drive of the game.  Sanchez tripping Shonn Green after the handoff on first down; LaDainian Tomlinson being blocked by his own lineman; and then, after salvaging the drive, Nick Folk missed the 14 yard kick that would have put them up three points.  Still, the Jets defense maintained their resolve, handing Brady his first interception in nearly four hundred games, and later forcing the Patriots to settle for only a field goal.

The Jets’ defense continued to play havoc with Tom Brady, and after forcing another punt with under thirteen minutes left in the second quarter, the Jets’ offense began getting comfortable.  After a short TD toss to Tomlinson to go up 7-3 at the 10:30 mark, they forced another couple Patriot punts to get the ball back again with two minutes to go in the half.  With 33 seconds left, Sanchez converted one of the biggest third-down plays in his career for a touchdown pass to Braylon Edwards.

Up 14 to 3, they still had to give the ball back to The Patriots for 33 seconds.  But then, Brady has to deal with that defense again.  No problem…. The Jets’ defense held the Patriots deep in their own territory, with frustration beginning to mount as lineman Logan Mankings got flagged for unnecessary roughness with 18 seconds to go.  Brady put his knee down on third and five to settle for those three points going into halftime.

Holding the Patriot’s Welker to a single catch, holding the Patriots to those three points was an achievement in itself, but maintaining that momentum against that team in the second half would be even tougher… especially against Tom Brady… right?

Not so fast…  Once again, the Jets forced the Patriots’ to punt on their opening drive, as the Jets also had to do on their subsequent drive.  With nine minutes left in the third quarter, the defense came up huge with another near turnover from Brady, resulting in what was tantamount to a twelve-yard sack when it appeared that the Patriots’ offense was starting to click.

Still, it really was only a matter of time before Brady would find a way to get it in the end zone.  With thirteen seconds left in the third, he threw to Alge Crumpler for a touchdown.  Then, Sammy Morris jumped in front of Brady to take the snap on a two-point conversion and run through the line into the end zone.  That got The Patriots in range to tie with a field goal, if not take a four-point lead, requiring the Jets to score a touchdown to get the lead back.

Another blockbuster play to begin the fourth quarter occurred on second down when Sanchez dumped the ball to Jerricho Cotchery, who ran it to a 58 yard gain, hurdling defenders along the way.

That drive ended with Sanchez passing to Santonio Holmes, who hauled in an unbelievable catch diving out of the end zone for a touchdown.  The lead went up to ten points… 21 - 11.  Could this controversial method of motivation be working?  Against the Patriots?  In New England??

The defense continued to play well, causing a few misfires, but the Patriots offense was moving.   With runs and outside screen passes, they worked their way into Jet territory with less than seven minutes left.  Normally, this is the point in a close game when Brady really lights it up, but with a sack and perfect coverage causing an incompletion on the next play, they found themselves in another fourth down situation, which they failed to convert.

But he Patriots’ defense came to play as well, causing the Jets to have to punt the ball back to Brady with over three minutes to go, ten points down.  A tall task for most, to be sure, but how many hearts has Brady ripped out under these circumstances?

The Jets’ defense found themselves at their own 18-yard line, but managed to hold the Patriots to a field goal.  The Jets got the ball back with two minutes to go, up seven points, against the Patriots in New England.

An on-side kick, however, did not work out very well for the Patriots.  After the ball squirted out of a pile of blue and white jerseys, Antonio Cromartie scooped the ball up and ran it back to the Patriot 25 yard line, with another five tacked on for an encroachment call on Patriot lineman, Dane Fletcher.  Two plays later, Green ran it into the end zone to effectively put the game away.  This was followed by a 50-yard run by Rex Ryan himself, who didn’t even seem to care that Green was flagged for excessive celebration, using the ball as a pillow and mockingly taking a nap in the end zone.

A minute-long drive, which resulted in a touchdown, made the score a bit closer for the Patriots, but Eric Smith of the Jets, sealing the game, recovered the on-side kick that followed.

In the end, Rex Ryan showed that it wasn’t quite as personal as he made it out to be, admitting that he felt Bilechik won the coaching battle, and handed all the credit to his players.  A few days ago, I was almost feeling sorry for Ryan, wondering how the coach of a professional football team could possibly last very long by taking an already-stressful job so personally.  Today, I’m applauding his genius in coming up with what I now think was a calculated method of motivation to push his team over the top, possibly to a Super Bowl.

There may have even been a certain level of understanding between Ryan and Bilechik, and possibly even Manning last week that he was going to be running his mouth, and not to take it personally.  Judging by the embrace between the two coaches at midfield at the end of the game, it obviously was not.

To continue with the theme of The New York Post, Obi Wan Ryan and the young Jedi Sanchez went into the Death Star and handed Darth Vader a devastating playoff loss.  Now it’s off to yet another tough task:  taking on the Pittsburgh Steelers in Pittsburgh for the right to go to the Super Bowl.

Does he have any personal feelings toward Steelers coach, Mike Tomlin?  Or quarterback, Ben Rothlisberger?  We will soon find out…

[...and we now know how that turned out!  1/28]

My First Ride in California

After a couple days recouping from the physical and emotional toll of my move, it was time to put the Redline Cruiser back together.  The soreness of the previous day was pretty much gone, and I was anxious to get my blood flowing a little bit again. 

It’s definitely time for a full tear-down and rebuild on her... but I don’t quite have the supplies for it right now...  solvent, grease, and a couple allen key sizes.  Regardless, she’s not too bad.  After telling my roommate that this old Indian still has a decent sense of direction, I set out in what I thought was the direction of the beach.

 The bike and my legs all felt good so far.  As I turned off of my street onto Monrovia and then a quick right on 19^th, I immediately noticed the difference of being in California.  Lush greens everywhere... the perfect time of year to be here.  I looked for those really cool purple trees, but I haven’t seen any around here yet.  There was even landscaping decorating the city-owned street signs and light poles… usually a bland sight around Las Vegas. 

I’m sure I have to brush up on some etiquette with the local laws and riding around other riders, but so far it certainly looks like a much more bike-friendly area.  Of course, most laws governing things like bicycles are usually written by those who haven’t ridden a bike in decades, if ever.  I stretch a lot of those laws and “rules” to the limit, and sometimes way beyond, because riding a bicycle on streets such as Maryland Parkway in Las Vegas is a suicide mission, and survival often means breaking a rule or two. 

I’m very thankful that I can still ride as well as I did as a much younger BMX racer, albeit with a little less stamina (it should improve, living here…), because it’s saved my life on many occasions through the years.  The ability to clear curbs and center dividers in a split second when cars come out of nowhere is a handy skill to have at times.

I cruised down 19^th, picking up speed as the road began to decline.  I noticed some looseness in my cranks, but not so bad that I couldn’t make it back, but it didn’t matter because I didn’t even care so much about my direction anymore... it was a really cool ride.  I could see a right-angle turn coming up down the road, and I checked the traffic situation.  I was alone, and the other side of the turn gave me a good view of what was coming... nothing! 

I tucked down into a racing stance, drifted to the left, and dove into the corner... cutting into the right lane with no loss of speed… all the while in awe of the wilderness to my left.  I realized half way through the turn that it was actually a small slope descending into a tree-filled valley, which made it even cooler!

As I cruised down the other side of the turn, I noticed a sign stating that the road now turned into the driveway of a condo or apartment complex.  I cruised through the main street of the complex, enjoying the greenery and the cool air hitting me.  Actually, it was considered quite warm my California standards, but where am I from again?  To me, it was nice and cool...

Coming to the end of one of the driveways, there was a steep dirt trail leading off into what looked like a forest.  I decided to get off the bike and walk to enjoy this part of it... (okay, I lacked both the momentum and the stamina to get up the hill at that moment). 

Once at the top, it led through about a hundred yards of woodland and appeared to come out in another part of the complex, so I jumped back on the bike and continued on.  I began to get flashbacks of riding a bike through Upsalla, Sweden… loaned to me by my friend and musical mate, Olof.  Sometimes I was on my own, and I would explore the trails you find all over Sweden, leading through the forests that surround and flow through the towns and cities.   Even in Stockholm, a large city, I could step out of my friend Derrick’s flat, and go walking through the woods, along a creek or small river, and coming out in another part of Stockholm on the other side.

I came off the trail onto a driveway, still in the same complex, or so it appeared.  I began looking for a way out, for a moment considering another trail leading into more woods.  Ah... I’ll explore that one next time.  I caught a glimpse of a car driving across an intersection up ahead at a higher rate of speed, which usually indicates a thoroughfare leading to a major street, and going in the direction that I still thought was the beach.  Exhilarated from this ride so far, I used the momentum I lacked for the previous hill and sprinted up the incline to the street and coasted left, and found myself on a residential street.  I continued to cruise along, enjoying the ride, when I suddenly felt the sensation of familiarity. 

Last time I was here to visit my now-roommate, I noticed the house across the street getting a new driveway put in.  While I was putting my bike together earlier today, I noticed the unusual diagonal seam pattern they put in the driveway.  Well... there it was.  Out of the hundreds of possible direction I could have gone during that ride, I was on my street... riding by the house I now live in.  At first, I just stopped right in the middle of the street in front of my house, laughing at the fact I just made a big circle and I have no idea how.  I had to get on Bing Maps and pull up the area to figure out where I went.  I found the turn (where W 19^th turns into Balboa), and the complex it leads into, but I have no idea where the damn trail was that led me back to my street. 

I considered riding on, but the looseness in my cranks is something I would rather take care of first since I’m back home.  I just have to find the right size wrench.  I’ll look for that trail again next time, and check out a few others.  I definitely have a lot of exploring to do, and inspired by the travel writings of Neil Peart, I’ll do what I can to make it interesting enough to write about. 

Aside from the immortal music he creates with his bandmates in Rush, Mr. Peart is a brilliant author.  With the itch to write, but not really knowing what to write about for a long time, he finally found a niche in travel writing, beginning with a 1996 book about a bicycle trip through Africa in 1988 called “The Masked Rider.”  His second effort was unfortunately a very sad one, “Ghost Rider,” which captured his travels during a five year hiatus from his life after the deaths of his wife and daughter.  By this time, he began to receive much critical acclaim for his writing.  The success of “Ghost Rider” pushed “The Masked Rider” back into print, and it continues to do well.

His third, “Traveling Music,” follows him through a road trip in his car, and discusses the music that influenced his life and his own music, as well as the music he likes to expose people to during the pre-show and intermissions.  Few people know that when you sit down to a Rush concert and you’re waiting for the band, the selection of music you’re listening to was created by Neil himself, and many of those sometimes obscure songs have very deep meaning to him.

His last, and my favorite, is “Roadshow,” in which he details his daily routines and adventures as he travels from show to show by motorcycle.  The way he describes passing through towns and cities, through wilderness, occasional breakdowns, and a few mob scenes when his identity is discovered…  it’s amazing to read, and very inspiring to write… so I will!

To quote Mr. Peart… “adventures suck when you’re having them,” and it was never more true than with my recent, rather sudden exodus from Las Vegas to Orange County.  There were a few  rough spots and tense moments when I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to pull this off… and a couple of the people closest to me who I thought would be there during my last few hours in Vegas…weren’t.  Numbing some of the pain, however, was that fact that others were, and in a big way. 

“Adventures” like this often suck at the time they’re happening due to the sometimes difficult circumstances leading up to it, when it’s unexpected or much sooner than planned, the emotional toll, the physical exertion of packing and moving, and the move itself.  Then of course, there’s unpacking, and trying to develop some sense of normality, even though in some cases, normality as you knew it is part of what you moved to get away from.  Times like this are difficult, but when looked back on, they usually become valuable memories… even thought of as “fun and exciting.”

The fact that much of my life has built up to this moment, it certainly was fun and exciting at times, but some of this adventure will hurt to remember… namely the two people who probably know me better than anybody, who both chose to turn away… having some sort of problem with me doing what I’ve been wanting to do for so long.  But others rose to the occasion, offering their support, encouragement, and even congratulations on making this move.  Thank you to all of them, both near and far… and especially the ones who extended their hand and made it possible for me to do this at what was the perfect time considering recent events in my life.

So, I will continue to offer my commentary of my explorations in my new home… and hopefully some will find them interesting.  I certainly have a lot of riding to do, and considering that Mr. Peart… at 58 years young… finds the energy to do it hours after playing an entire Rush concert (he still does it by motorcycle now, but used a bicycle well into his late 40’s), I have absolutely no excuse.  But let’s hope as well that this old Indian with the great sense of direction will at least make it to the beach next time!