Connections through time (and a dumbass bumper sticker).

I was browsing through social media this morning when I noticed a comment on a video I posted to a "Rock and Metal from the 80's" site I follow. The comment was a simple logo of the band Dirty Looks, posted by a fellow Erieite following the same site. The significance of the logo would be lost to anyone who grew up outside of Erie, PA, but for those of us "in the know" the familiarity is two fold. First: because of the under-sung quality of the band itself. Second: due to the bumper sticker plastered on the stop sign in the area of 29th and Greengarden in my hometown. 

It's a silly thing and I've probably written about it before, but I remember the sticker vividly. It was there for years and I saw it multiple times daily. I often wondered if a rival band (Marz, Night Witch, Friction etc...) put it there as a statement like "We must STOP Dirty Looks!" That's the stupid shit a teenage mind comes up with. The truth is probably less sinister.  Some asshat stuck it there walking home from school as a gesture of rebellion (probably).  

I've traveled far from Erie, PA in my adult life. 35 years ago I thought the city was a Mecca. Hindsight tells me it was not unlike any small rust belt city. All of the usual suspects were there: unions, minor league teams, deer hunting, beer drinking, and car hopping. A "marry your HS sweetheart (quickly!)" kind of place. The town was a melting pot as well. Very strong Polish, Mexican, German, Italian, African American and Irish traditions graced the land inside it's borders. A wide assortment of worship attached to each heritage still peppers the city. The ringing bells of the Catholic spires, the gold caps of the Orthodox church, and the mystery cornerstone of the Temple Anshe serve as friendly reminders of the city's roots and diversity.

I was home last weekend and attended a backyard party in a small blue collar suburb of Erie very close to the former General Electric Choo-Choo plant that anchored the workforce and economy for many years. I started up a conversation with a guy I've never met before, but knew all to well, He was wearing a Pro-Pain t-shirt and lives in Erie, PA. That's enough for hours long conversation in my world. Alexa was spinning jams from Vinnie Vincent, Savatage, Tesla, and Skid Row (among other various Hard Rock treasures from yesteryear). It was as warm a feeling as I have ever had. The familiar feeling of home, the one place where I am never a stranger and always belong.

These days I reside in North Carolina on the popular, yet scenic, Lake Gaston. I don't shovel snow anymore, and am not sure I would ever want to again. I am surrounded by cotton in the fall, tobacco in the summer, 40 degree days in the winter, and my backyard is a lake. If life is lived as an adventure, and I am racing toward my third act, this is not a bad launching pad for the next big crux. I am not alone in being an outsider transplanted to Lake Gaston, but just a few miles in any direction I am considered (and called) a Damn Yankee. It's cool though, strength of personality outperforms ignorant prejudices and unwarranted bias in most cases. Despite no one being able to tackle my last name, I walk in like I own the joint in every situation that allows it. Living well and not giving a flying turd tends to radiate good vibes. Once people get over the NAG-OR-SKI pronunciation annoyance (it's said exactly as its spelled) I am typically well liked. I married a local, it is what it is.

Yet, sometimes I miss just fitting in without effort. 

I am reflective as of late due to my inability to travel for work. I am coming off of the longest stretch in one place in over 16 years. History will not judge 2020 kindly regardless of what side of the stupid political isle you fall on, but for me personally 2020 has been a year of re-connections because of my reflective state. I am reaching out to the non-toxic people in my life I've neglected or lost touch with, and spending time in my hometown is proving to be good for my soul. I've rediscovered my love for my roots in music and even started riff writing again in hopes to record a new Metal album someday in the near future.

It's been 18 years since I left Erie, and I may finally be missing her too. It's easy to have the feelz for the town you grew up in. Nostalgia is ever present when separated by distance and years. It allows one to forget the bad juju of everyday past. But this is something more, she (Erie) and I are connected through generations, common history, family and mindset. My first everything happened there, my father & grandfathers first everything happened there too. It was the place I couldn't wait to escape, and now it's the place I miss most. Irony in its simplest form?

Getting back to Dirty Looks, I still feel like "Cool from the Wire" is an almost perfect LP from the 80's metal genre. It's up there with White Lion's "Pride" as one of the few hair metal LP's I listened to front to back every time. It's sequenced perfectly. The fact that they hailed from my hometown was a big plus for me to pay attention, but they ruled in their own right and were a horribly overlooked band. All the right pieces were in place: a major label deal, a top producer and great songs. I never understood why they didn't get the big push from Atlantic they deserved, especially when shitty bands like Band Tango and Danger Danger broke medium-big around the same time. The media accused Hendrik (Singer - Guitar) of being a Bon Scott soundalike (a detail that led to the cowards at Atlantic releasing "Oh Ruby" as the single, I'm sure) but they were much better than some of the shit bands of the day that got the push. Someone still needs to explain to me how a Cinderella homage (Brittney Fox) ever got airplay? It must have been a favor for a friend or some shit. Even the executives at MTV were like "Really?" Full disclosure: I watched the "Girls School" video with the sound off quite often.

I hope you all enjoy your weekend. I am smoking a pork shoulder and have a lunch date with my daughter. There's a Morkie in my lap and a Goldendoodle asleep at my feet. In the background I can hear the wake boarders coming to life on the lake. It should be a good day.

Nago

 

    

Checking in...

Almost 2 full years have passed since I last published a Blog under this header, yet, this month the overall site gathered over 70 views. That's probably a mistake, but it's still flattering.

I read back through a couple of the posts today. It was like seeing through a window into another life. I vaguely remember the guy on the other side: a younger, arrogant, self absorbed version of this older, arrogant, self absorbed man. On any given day he put his every thought out there on his chosen topic of interest. He pounded his dramatically charged opinions into the ground with ease. In some cases it's very over the top and in others, very unrefined and too metaphoric. I would delete the worst of them, but I must respect the thoughts of a younger me. After all, his beloved blog documented several years of learning, healing, and general bitching about my life and musical interests. Keeping these words around may prove to be cathartic still as I continue this journey.

These days however I am a bit more story driven. I always incorporated stories into my writing, but now I find myself with desire to craft better tales versus short form opinion articles. I have many visions on where this new journey will lead. I'd like to document my acclimation into the deep south. Write of travel and adventure. Tell my own story in a format exclusive to the tale. I want to inspire and be inspired once again.

But there is more... I desire to write my of tales of hatred and tolerance, of ignorance and brilliance, of oppression and deliverance, and ultimately of redemption and acceptance. I have known them all intimately, and labored to keep a sense of humor while communicating the madness of a cranial documenteur in his own triumphs and folly. Words to be re-crafted from memory with virtual quill and ink onto futuristic pages for the world, or no one at all, to read if chosen to do so.

I find a growing love for modern Americana inclusive to the popular culture of more recent times. This America is filled with my generation's nostalgia, not just the traditional wagon wheels and Coca-Cola signs we see on antiquity driven media. The tobacco and cotton fields of rural North Carolina in the age of information show me how the two co-exist in harmony as my new community, empowered by those of my generation, struggles with its place in this new world. I just need to find the words to tell the tales hidden in the air around me, and channel them correctly.

Lastly, I find myself at a spiritual crossroads. I believe we all have purpose, and I may be ignoring mine. To continue to do so would be criminal to myself and my potential purpose, even if that purpose is not clearly defined. Better still, if my writing is a gift then I should not ignore it any longer, nor ignore the desire to do so, as neither have degraded during my absence. I view this abstinence as a refresh and an opportunity to distance the words of today from the words of a man less experienced, but with blind admiration and love for his words as they brought me to this next starting point...

Time... Is flowing like a river... To the sea.

Nago - 01/29/2020 

An Imperial Transport Named Desire

I took my 7 year old daughter to see The Last Jedi on Wednesday. She liked the experience of the theater, and I took the opportunity to allow her extra butter on her popcorn, and even let her have some Dr Pepper (I am getting soft these days).

She is at an age where she critiques everything. Typically her critism starts with "I like it, but," or "it's good, but". Usually she is talking about eggs or a song. Yesterday it went a little different:

As we were leaving the theater, Peyton turned to me and said: "I know Star Wars is your favorite movie, but..." I stopped her before she could dump on the daddy/daughter experience too heavily, which would not have been her intention, but I've learned to squash negativity with kindness before it starts. "Honey," I said with my best (and really lame) soothing Dad voice, "Star Wars is not my favorite movie." She then informed me that she would have like to have seen more of Leia's '77 hair buns.

But there it was: Star Wars is not my favorite movie. It's like saying Metallica is my favorite band. I love them, I root for them, I celebrate their worldwide appeal, I was massively into them when I was a kid, they set the benchmark, but not my favorite, not by a long shot.

To a child of 7, picking a favorite is easy. I wish life remained that simple some of the time. When I was 7, Star Wars was my favorite movie, so I can relate to the assumption. Maybe the Star Wars Jammie Pants, the classic Star Wars glass, or the Wookie coffee mug led her opinion in the matter. Honestly, if she looks at me under the guise that I am sometimes still a kid inside, we are all the better for it.

Much like my musical scribblings, I tend to deep dive into Star Wars because I feel like I can. I've asked Peyton how she really felt about The Last Jedi, and as of this writing, she is sticking to her script about Leia, but am pretty sure she was neutral overall. For me, I'm feeling pretty "Meh" about it. This is dangerous ground, but I am not sure I really liked The Last Jedi very much. I found it to be stale in many ways.

Rey is great. She is taking the franchise in a good direction as the heroine of today, so my beef is not with her. If Peyton even remotely identified with this strong, young female lead, then mission accomplished. Finn is good too, and Poe is the right guy to fill Hans shoes.

That leaves us with Kylo. He is just not dangerous enough despite his boyish temper tantrums. Palpatine, Maul, Vader, and even the strangely unexplained character Snoke had an element of evil. I fear there is too much conflict in Kylo.

Vader and Maul are good benchmarks on what a great Sith should be, for sure. I want a proper Sith. Kylo Ren is like the replacement guy after the Attitude Era of the WWE. He's just not the guy to carry the New Order into my galactic storyline curiosity.

It's a bit of speculation, but I'm feeling the worst is here: oversaturation.

A 2 year build-up is great, but was it? The filler movies are taking a portion of the hype away. Also, with all of the cliff hangers left unanswered, or worse, blatantly brushed off, I'm a bit let down.

Soooo... for the next movie, I propose the following: Rey finds out she is Luke's child, Kylo carves up Luke, Luke takes a Vader suit and goes on an ill inspired killing spree, eventually becoming Kylo' s apprentice, "Darth Arkham" bringing balance to the force.

Word.

Nago

Another stupid Kiss blog

If you follow my scribblings, you may think I am a some huge Kiss nerd. I guess it depends on the mood. I never really find myself actually listening to Kiss for recreation. I actually prefer 80's Kiss over any other era. I guess I am hardwired to write about what I know about. Today, for some strange reason, I am back on Kiss.

Recently, Paul stated in an interview that he felt like Gene spends a lot of time trying to be PT Barnam. That is a great analogy of his life partner. I guess in my mind, it's easy to state that about a person, but you 100% benefit from coat tail riding. Maybe not creatively, but absolutely monetarily.

Paul gets residuals on the use of his image, as does Ace and Pete. For the latter, it may be the only actual income generated at this stage of his life.

Paul did have the reigns for a decade or so. The 80's belonged to Paul's vision of the band, which kept them alive (pun intended) way past their kooky shelf life. Kiss became a full fledged hair band, and rightfully so, as they are never given enough credit for being architects of the genre, and also really precursors Thrash and European Disney Metal in a way.

Paul and Gene are very much life partners, different from other rock duos in their solidarity. Paul has said some vanilla things to the negative, but really only in his emotional reaction to circumstances out of his control.

For instance: Paul has opened up about his disapproval of Gene become the dominant voice of Kiss during the Revenge era. However he is smart enough to understand that he was the driver of the 80's Kiss train, but come 1990, styles had changed. His effiminant style was out of character in the 90's, and the fans responded. Gene peaked in the more aggressive world with "Domino" and "Unholy." Paul did take a back seat, but was fortunate to be able to continue in his amazing career due to the diversity of his organization. We should all be so lucky.

Paul also makes no bones about his former bandmates inability to hang. I respect that completely. Even though they could be very negative about much more, typically Paul and Gene take the high road, not deep diving into the mud, rather taking well aimed shots and shutting down the line of questioning. Not in every situation, but they always conduct their business with dignity.

I may take some heat for the above paragraph in regards to session players and behaviors deemed unscrupulous by mega-fans, but aside from some sketchy artistic turns, the moves they made were for the betterment and continuation of the band AND the brand.

Gene and Paul deserve some credit for their commitment to each other. They didn't stray like Joe and Steven, and didn't publicly trash each other like the infamous duo's of Rolling Stones, Beatles, Kinks, and Oasis. To this day, 40+ years later, they stand united.

In a world where most partnerships are fleeting at best, a mutual understanding of solidarity is refreshing.

Nago

Uncle Phil and the Zen of Bel Aire

Time for a holiday deep dive into the beloved "Fresh Prince of Bel Aire" TV series. Why? Well, I was browsing YouTube this morning, and saw the reunion of Will and Alfonso on the Graham Norton show.

Believe it or not, I have quite often wondered if Alfonso was bitter about Will's success and riches. So, I looked it up. Alfonso is doing just fine financially. That leads me to wonder about Jazzy Jeff, who probably is really bitter about Will's second career as an actor after they came up and found sucess as a duo.

Here are the numbers (according to Celebrity Net Worth):
Will Smith: $260 Million USD
Jazzy Jeff: $8.6 Million USD
Alfonso Riberio (Carlton): $7 Million USD

It shouldn't come as a surprise Jazzy Jeff is richer than Carlton, he did have a pretty good run in the music industry. I assumed he was broke, as I have seen him advertised performing at Cheerleaders in Pittsburgh (that's a strip club, in case you didn't know :/). I guess a strip club tour is lucrative?

The year "Fresh Prince of Bel Aire" first aired (1990), I also found myself moving from the bustling metropolis of Erie, PA to the small town farming community of Union City, PA. The circumstances were not exactly the same as Will's move, but I was in a bit of heat with truancy from school, and was a trouble making street rat running with a like minded crowd. I was 15, and didn't want to move at all. After months of fighting it, I finally accepted my position, and made friends with a musician oriented crowd in my new enviroment.

I used to kid that I was the Fresh Prince of Union City, and in my mind, I absolutely was. The "new kid" syndrome fit my ego very well, and Erie was the big city to kids in the country community. I ate that shit up. The perception of knowing something others only heard about kept me feeling a tad dangerous, but in hindsight, it was a joke.

Will Smith's character suffered the same fate, as street kid struggling to fit in a prep school environment. Set to a comedic backdrop, it was a perfect marriage given the early 90's hip-hop culture.

These days, I am not a fan of laugh tracks, back then, I cared a bit less. I really loved the show, and I still do. It was a transition show of sorts, bridging the gap between family oriented sit-coms of the 80's and the new breed of comedy shows soon to become the norm (Seinfield, Friends, Mad About You, etc). It is still funny, and finding new life with snippets on YouTube.

It's hard to be mad at any move Will Smith makes these day. He has become one of the highest paid actors for good reason. His skill set is amazing, but I will always be a fan of his original comedic chops.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Nago

Bad Hair Day, July 1987

For many years, I have avoided deep diving into my youth in regards to Bon Jovi. Last week, a picture popped up in my timeline that ended the cycle of avoidance. This photo, taken on July 25th, in the year of our Lord, 1987 (30 years ago), captures a moment of people waiting in line to see what was to become my first major concert experience.

I was 12 years old that summer, and a true, blue poser. My sister's friend somehow ended up with a few extra tickets to the concert event, a rare outdoor stadium show in Erie, PA. That fateful day, Bon Jovi brought his "Slippery When Wet" tour to the Veterans Memorial Stadium, located at the foot of what locals referred to as "the Whore House on the Hill," also known as Academy High School.

Why such a large structure was constructed at the foot of an inner city high school in a somewhat small city is a story not found on any current Wiki page, but, Veterans Memorial Stadium was constructed in 1924 as a large football playing field. Officially, it seats 10,000 in the stands. That day, the field was open to general admission. The recorded head count for the Bon Jovi concert was 15,608 people.

We all remember it being hot that day, as several people were treated for heat exhaustion. For Erie, a city that sees 101 inches of snow (on average) per year, it was blistering. According to the web, the temp was 84 deg. F, with 91% humidity. In an era of long hair, jeans and high tops, I am sure the ozone layer had a huge hole over Erie County due to the large amount of Aqua Net represented by the crowd in attendance, which most likely added to the heat index of the day.

This L.P. and tour were breakout moments for Bon Jovi. It cemented them in the eyes of pop culture as more than just another Hair Metal band. Their production, songwriting and promotional values set the bar for the next wave of pop-rock, including the "live setting" music video trend that every single band followed for years. Bon Jovi quickly rose to the top, and somehow even managed to survive the Grunge trend a few years later.

Women loved the look and easily accessed hooks of what became an instant classic. "You Give Love a Bad Name," "Living on a Prayer," and "Wanted Dead or Alive" were the three huge hits off the L.P., and justifiably so. Guys quickly gravitated to the harder edge of the album, which may have been the first true successor to Def Leppard's massive 1983 release "Pyromania" in terms of pop metal production.

The lines were very blurry then, and "Heavy Metal" fandom encompassed Maiden, Crue, Bon Jovi, and Metallica somewhat equally. Even the heaviest of the previous generation released lighter offerings around this time (Judas Priest "Turbo" and Iron Maiden's "7th Son of a 7th Son" for example). Bon Jovi fit the mold perfectly, and if I am being honest with myself, "Slippery When Wet" was awesome for this young music fan at that time. Already a fan of the previous 2 releases from the band, having spent many an afternoon jumping off of my bed strumming a broom to the sad, yet catchy af, and hugely underrated "Only Lonely" from 1985's "7800 Deg. F," I was primed and ready for the radio friendly follow-up. I am sure the concert was a major deal in my young life. The timing was perfect.

Jon Bon Jovi had family ties to the Erie area. Every now and again a pic would surface of him standing with a local person. I remember seeing one of him with his arm around the lunch lady from my middle school. I had known several people claiming to be his "second cousin" or some such rubbish. Honestly, everyone knew someone claiming to be related. I guess Erie needed that connection at the time. We were a town struggling with identity, grasping to the positivity of a world wide connection to greatness. We were, and remain, a rebellious lot. Today the city is alive with bike rallies, outdoor shows and block parties. Back then, were a culture straight out of  B Movie Hollywood, equal parts American Graffiti, Fast Times at Ridgemont High, Breakfast Club and Heavy Metal Parking Lot.

The excitement of that day, mixed with the heat exhaustion and confusion of the first time concert experience makes the whole thing a blur to me. My best memory is of a girl I had never met before giving me some water. I guess I looked rough, and ready to pass out. Again, it was hot.

If a picture is worth 1000 words, the pic shared by the Erie History FB page did not disappoint. From what I do remember, neither did the band. Erie is full of human history, and is a special place for its resilience. It has been 15 years since I came to the 'Burgh, yet I still identify myself with Erie. It is the land of my youth and the ground that my forefathers helped shape. 

That hot July day was one many will cherish, and have cherished for some 30 years. Whether it be untrue tales of opening band, Keel, besting the headliner, memories of a long ago romance making out in the crowd to "Never Say Goodbye," or the immense sound of Sambora's acoustic opening of "Wanted Dead or Alive," the day will live on in the hearts and minds of many Erie-ites in infamy.

Nago

Nothing at all...

In six years of blogging, I sometimes write about Dad Rock, sometimes movies, and sometimes its just cathartic ramblings. I often wonder if this medium will hang around for a long time, like maybe someday my great grandkids can look back and be like, "that dude was crazy."

Putting that idea into perspective could be interesting. My kids were able to meet and hang out with their great grandparents. Would they have cared to read their weird thoughts, especially if it was in regards to pop culture and music?

Black Sabbath released their first L.P. in 1969. Let's say an adventurous 24 year old fell in love with dark undertones of the band and followed them through their career. Now, let's say that same year, he fathered a son.

1979, this same person could have very likely been into Judas Priest at age of 34. Meanwhile, his 10 year old could realistically like the same music his father turned him on to, and was minutes away from the next generation of Metallica.

1989. This father, now 44, and his son, now 20, both like Metal, and both share a passion for heavy, dark undertones. This same year, his son fathers his first grandson.

1999. The now Grandfather, 54, who is probably less concerned with trends in heavy music, takes his son, now 30, and his grandson, 10, to see Black Sabbath at Ozzfest during the Reunion Tour.

2017. The grandfather, now 73, his son, now 48, the grandson, now 28, go to see the Black Sabbath "The End" tour, marking the final time the original band will play live. It is entirely possible that the 28 year old has a child of his own, and it is also entirely possible that the child could fall in line with the music his Great Grandfather fell in love with 48 years earlier.

This is not my scenario, but it stands to prove that maybe, just maybe, someday my great-grandchildren may actually care about my ramblings? Probably not.

One other note: Heavy Metal is gonna be 50 in less that 2 years. Wow.

Nago.