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