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"Now, early this morning...I got on that long-distance telephone, and I called my mama...I said, 'Mama, this is yo boy, and I'm WAY down here in New Orleans, Louisiana'. She said, 'That's alright, boy.' She turned to my papa and she said, "Papa, our boy is way down there in New Orleans—we cannot let him stay out all night long!' She did. Long about that time, I heard my papa lean toward my mama...I heard Papa tell Mama, 'Let that boy boogie-woogie!' He said, 'It's in 'im and it's got to come out..."—Rev. B. Gibbons, Z.Z. Top (1975)
I've been waiting 28 years for that quote to sorta be true. After years of delay, I finally made my way down to Cajun Country last weekend and visited Baton Rouge and New Orleans (just in time for Hurricane Isaac). My good friend Tom and I had originally planned to drive over to the Crescent City in the spring of 1984 after visiting Houston, but my wallet got stolen while it was loaded with $250 cash, thus we had to truncate the trip and return home (me with my tail between my legs) and for one reason or another, I never made it down that way until now. Apart from some flight delays and the oppressive humidity, it was a pretty good little weekend.
DEAF VALLEY DAY
One of my first stops in Baton Rouge on Saturday morning was LSU's Tiger Stadium, known affectionately as "Deaf Valley" because the fans get really loud here. It's not really in a valley, but the high-rise grandstands make you feel like you're in one, and this place is gi-normous like most all SEC football facilities. I was able to sneak in and get this field level shot from behind their old-school two-poster goal posts. I can see now why they play most of their games at night, too—it was about 9:30 in the morning when I snapped this, and it was already muckin' fuggy out.
THINKIN' INSIDE THE BOX
Just down the street from Tiger Stadium, I checked out LSU's baseball facility, Alex Box Stadium, and it's nicer than a lot of minor league stadiums I've seen. I guess winning the College World Series six times in the last 21 years or so makes them worthy, tho...
"JUST KEEP MATRICULATIN' THE BALL DOWN THE FIELD, BOYS..."
And this is where the matriculatin' (and Hank Stram's incessant sideline yammering) took place—the site of Tulane Stadium in New Orleans, where the Chiefs won Super Bowl IV in 1970 and former home of the annual Sugar Bowl game until 1974. I had trouble determining the exact footprint of the stadium because of all the Tulane University dorms and buildings that have gone up since the stadium was demolished in 1979. But, I'm pretty sure that somewhere near the building with the garage door opening is where running back Mike Garrett successfully executed the legendary "65 Toss Power Trap" TD run to break the game open, and the near sideline is the same one Otis Taylor bobbed and weaved (wove?) down to put the dagger in the Minnesota Vikings' hearts that day. Here's the tail-end of the game from the original CBS TV broadcast with the late Jack Buck on the call, which I didn't know still existed. And I'm guessing Tom Dempsey's NFL record 63-yard FG (also in 1970) would have been teed up somewhere perpendicular to that soccer goal off to the left by the building and kicked toward the left from where I was standing here. Tulane is getting pretty serious about building a new (and smaller) football stadium to the left of this photo as well. What goes around comes around...
THE PLANET OF NEW ORLEANS
This is the vista from my room at the Holiday Inn in downtown Nawleans. I love having views of downtown skylines from where I stay, and this one was outstanding. Great location too, just three blocks from the French Quarter and just a skosh further than that to the Superdome. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to partake of or do any "Twistin' By" the pool.
"I WOKE UP THIS MORNING AND I GOT MYSELF A BEER..."
Apparently you can that here, literally. Jim Morrison would surely have been pleased...
"WE BLEW IT, MAN..."
You Easy Rider fans out there should recognize this. St. Louis Cemetery is located just off the French Quarter (or "Freedom Quarter", to youse Republicans) and it's where Peter Fonda, Denns Hopper, Toni "Hey Mickey" Basil and the blonde chick whose name escapes me had their little acid trip during Mardi Gras. Evidently, the cemetery folks were none too pleased that they filmed in their sacred territory, which is over 200 years old.
THAT LITTLE OL' MAN FROM TEXAS?
And here is Billy Gibbons of Z.Z. Top (or a reasonable facsimilie of him, anyway) after having gone through Darth Vader's carbon freeze process. That's a live human being, folks, sitting there completely motionless like a statue for tips in the French Quarter. I've seen these dudes before, and I don't see how the fuck they do this in the best of conditions, but in the oppressive heat/humidity of bayou country, that dude had to me melting under all that garb. Did I mention it was humid down yonder yet?
WHEN IN ROME...
...eat as the Romans do. This was my Saturday repast at the Gumbo Shop on St. Peter Street in the FQ and my first real taste of genuine Cajun food. Combo platter of shrimp creole and jambalaya, and it didn't suck. Not sure I'd want to eat it all the time, but I actually liked it. It was like what Campbell's soup could be if it actually had some FLAVOR in it. To all those who accuse me of never trying anything new, HA! I say. HA!
THE DOOBIE BROTHERS DON'T LIVE HERE ANYMORE...
Actually, they never did—they're mostly from the SF Bay area—but this is the avenue they named their second album Toulouse Street after in 1972. The only doobies you'll find in the FQ are the ones you smoke...
VOULEZ-VOUS COUCHER AVEC HER, CE SOIR?
Ummm, mais non! I'm not even sure her was a her with that baritone voice I heard coming out of "her". Just a little example of what I saw roaming the streets (rues) of the the French Quarter. I was a bit surprised at how dirty and run-down the FQ was (in places, mind you), but overall, it's a trip within a trip. I later returned after the Saints game after dark (without my camera), and if I could sum up my overall impression of Bourbon Street/the French Quarter in one word, that word would be Decadent! Baltimore's Memorial Stadium was affectionately called "The World's Largest Outdoor Insane Asylum", but that ain't quite accurate—that title goes to Bourbon Street. I couldn't help but think of the words of Paul Stanley from 1984's Kiss Animalize tour video: "...you got a lot to be proud of—this place looks like a damn zoo!" Guys holding hands. Girls holding hands. Horses holding hooves—anything goes here, and I enjoyed the hell out of it. Hell, you'd never have known by the way people acted Saturday night that there was a major hurricane headed for town. And you talk about the penultimate people-watching place, this is it. And yes, the women really do flash their tits for them damn beads people throw from the balconies, and I saw my first live pair of bare breasts in 13 years, come to think of it. I think this place may well have been the inspiration for Ozzy Osbourne's "Going off the rails on the crazy train..." And this was just in August—I can only imagine what New Year's Eve and Mardi Gras are like down there. Would love to pay a return visit, but I think it would be infinitely more fun to "geaux" with friends or a group instead of "geaux"-ing alone.
"HELD WITHIN OUR PLEASURE DOME, DECREED BY KUBLA KHAN..."
I've been dying to see this place since the day it opened, and it's pretty impressive. Not quite as big as Cowboys Stadium in Dallas, but taller, and not a bad place to watch a football game—for a dome, that is. I gotta give it up to the good peeples of New Orleans, too—they love their Saints. They acted like this meaningless exhibition game actually counted, and reminded me a lot of Chiefs fans, only minus the tailgating and BBQ. Hard to believe this is the same structure that housed such utter squalor seven years ago this week, and they had a special photo gallery on display on the concourse that chronicled the whole Katrina nightmare and the refurbishing of the Superdome.
THINKIN' INSIDE THE BOX, PART DEUX
P.A. announcer at the Stupordome encouraged fans to check out the Saints Hall of Fame inside the stadium. Being the HOF junkie that I am, I took them up on their offer. Well, folks, yer looking at it! Now, I do realize the Saints have had a fairly checkered history, but you gotta be shittin' me—a Hall of Fame that's smaller than a walk-in closet?!? If your Hall of Fame can fit comfortably into my bedroom, you've made some tactical errors along the way! By the way, young master Ellis wasn't kneeling in silent prayer to Drew Brees there—he was merely chowing down on his nachos.
NOT PICTURED, BUT WORTH MENTIONING...
—On Sunday after my French Quarter-induced hangover subsided, I took a little drive along the Gulf Coast and checked out Gulfport and Biloxi, and it was quite impressive. Too bad I'm not much of a sand, sun and surf kinda guy, tho—I fry like bacon in the sun anyhow. I also made my way over to Alabama and passed through Mobile for the first time since I was like three years old when our family visited there. Same damn battleship still resides in Mobile Bay too. Didn't have time to visit our good friend Benjamin "Bubba" Blue in nearby Bayou le Batre, tho.
—Did I mention the humidity? No? Good-goobily-goop, it's muckin' fuggy on the Bayou! It was a shock to my system going from a land that's brown and dry to one that's green and wet, and when I stepped out of the airport terminal in Baton Rouge, I felt like I was inside a terrarium—and that was at night. It's even worse during the day, and I don't see how folks can stand living down there, but I guess you get used to it after a while. Speaking of weather, I have now completed the severe weather warning Superfecta by being in a Hurricane Warning area for the first time in my life (to go along with Tornado Warnings, Flash Flood Warnings and Winter Storm Warnings). Fortunately, I got the hell out of Dodge 24 hours before Isaac arrived.
—I experienced my first flight delays as an infrequent flyer on this trip. My connecting flight to Houston on Friday on United was delayed by storms in Texas, and they actually moved me to another flight on American Airlines to Dallas to get me to Baton Rouge. I didn't fly to New Orleans proper because it was $150 cheaper to fly to BR, and I was planning to drive over there anyhow. Was fairly impressed with DFW aeroport too, while I was on the ground—very clean, nice waiting area, big TVs to watch, etc. Can't say as much about Houston's airport, though, where my return flight to KCI on Sunday was delayed for no particular reason (the weather was fine). The gate I had to wait at didn't even have a friggin' TV, nor did it have a jetway—I had to board the plane from the tarmac. Then again, whaddya expect from an airport named after Bush? Baton Rouge's airport was my favorite, though—small, nicely organized and completely navigable by foot.
—While I waited to check my bags in at KCI on Friday, I was behind one Felipe Paulino, a Royals pitcher who is currently on the DL. Then, on my return flight Sunday night, I was seated across the aisle from none other than Stanford Routt, the Chiefs' new cornerback. Didn't know who he was, though, until we reached the terminal and one of those valet people was holding up his name on a sign. You see, I flies with da stars...
I had nothing better to do and needed to get a fresh post on here, so I decided to update and revise a blog entry I did a few years back about that vaunted institution, the (C)Rock And Roll Hall of Fame, in which I listed who I felt belonged in it (as well as who didn’t). Since then, a mere handful of my choices were indeed inducted, but the majority of my list remains on the outside looking in, so it’s time for an update, the field of which I’ve expanded from 30 to 35. Keep in mind, these are all acts that have at least a legitimate chance of making the hall, and I’ve saved my sentimental favorites for the Honorable Mentions. I’ve also tweaked my list of UN-deservees as well, which I will save for a future post…
PEOPLE WHO I THINK SHOULD BE IN THE ROCK ‘N’ ROLL HALL OF FAME THAT AREN’T
(In order of deservedness and why)
1) PAUL REVERE AND THE RAIDERS I’ve said it a zillions times: Most underrated Rock band of all-time, period. They made way better records than the Lovin’ Spoonful, sold more records than the (Young) Rascals and could blow the Beach Boys off ANY stage, yet all those ‘60s contemporaries are in the Hall and the Raiders ain’t (and Spoonful and Rascals being questionable, at best). This egregious wrong should be righted immediately.
2) KISS I think the Hottest Band In The World gets in for their music ALONE, but if not, then you cannot deny the impact this band and its pyrotechnics has had on the way concerts, musicals, sporting events/Super Bowl halftimes, Olympic opening/closing ceremonies, etc., are staged.
3) THE MOODY BLUES Even if they never made another album after their first magnificent seven from the ‘60s and ‘70s, they deserve to be in the HOF. Genesis gets in but the Moodies don’t? Come on…
4) RUSH Thinking-man’s Rock doesn’t have a spot in the Hall? Please. These Canucks have been together over 40 years (38 with the "new guy") and can STILL bring it today. Rush gets snubbed but mindless crap like Velvet Underwear—er uh—Underground gets in? Please.
5) DEEP PURPLE Every bit as influential in the Hard Rock/Metal genre as Led Zeppelin, but DP doesn’t even get a sniff of the HOF. You’d think they’d get in for “Smoke On The Water” and “Highway Star” alone. Top-flight musicians all the way ‘round, too (regardless of lineup) and Ian Gillan is one of the greatest Rock wailers of all-time.
6) MOTORHEAD Ditto here, in regards to their influence on the bands who followed them. Metallica said it themselves when they were inducted—without Lemmy & Co., there would be no Metallica. No Guns ‘N’ Roses, either…
7) CHICAGO Quite possibly the horniest Rock band of all-time (musically) and they keep getting ignored by the Hall just because Rolling Stone magazine hated them. True, Chicago wimped out quite a bit in the ‘80s, but their body of work in the ‘70s is Hall-worthy. And, oh by the way, FUCK Rolling Stone…
8) GRAND FUNK RAILROAD We want the Funk! And that’s all I have to say about that…
9) CHEAP TRICK The critics actually LIKED this band, which makes it a mystery why they don’t get considered. Consistently good on record, and like Rush, are still bringing it today.
10) DAVE EDMUNDS One of the greatest re-workers of old-school Rock and Rockabilly music. It’s not as if he’s a mere cover artist (Linda Ronstadt, atten-SHUN!)—he takes people’s songs and makes them his own, like Smiley Lewis’ “I Hear You Knockin’”, Chuck Berry’s “Dear Dad” and Elvis Costello’s “Girls Talk”, to name three.
11) THE DOOBIE BROTHERS Another ‘70s band whose body of work gets dissed by the “Academy” (or whatever they’re called). NOTE: They get in for the non-Michael McDonald eras only.
12) STEVIE RAY VAUGHAN Sentimental choice just because he left us too soon? Hardly. This guy was a KILLER guitar player who at times made Clapton look like that clown Esteban by comparison. SRV should be a no-brainer for the HOF.
13) THREE DOG NIGHT The knock on 3DN is they didn’t write their own music. Yeah, so? The Temptations, Supremes, Four Tops and Dusty Springfield probably don’t have a single solitary composition amongst them, yet they’re all in (not that they don’t deserve to be). Another ‘70s hit machine like Chicago that gets ignored…
14) JIM CROCE His career was all-too-short, but so was Ritchie Valens' and he's in the Hall. I think Jim had plenty more rolled up in his t-shirt sleeve (just like “Rapid Roy”) if he had lived. Totally underrated good-humored songwriter whose influence you can hear in the songs of Jimmy Buffett and John Hiatt.
15) NICK LOWE Without Nick, Elvis Costello wouldn’t have gotten far in his career, let alone the Hall. Lowe’s songs are witty and up until about 1990, he could rock with the best of them. He’s regressed somewhat in recent years with boring acoustic lounge-lizard type music, but still deserves a spot in Cleveland.
16) JETHRO TULL Eclectic, to be sure, but strangely consistent for many years in spite of the charismatic and somewhat flighty Ian Anderson’s revolving-door band personnel policy.
17) HEART If nothing else, Heart should get in from a historical perspective for being the first major Rock band led by women, but Ann and Nancy’s music speaks for itself.
18) THE CARS Another band the critics just raved about, but like Cheap Trick, aren't in Cleveland. They didn’t even make my list the first time around, but the more I listen to them, the more impressed I get. Ric Ocasek always came off as a bit of an arrogant dweeb to me, but his musical sensibilities are spot-on most of the time, in spite of occasionally obtuse lyrics. And like Rush and Styx, The Cars showed that synthesizers—when used in moderation—are not so abhorrent.
19) JOHN HIATT Any man who can successfully work amoebas and porcupines into the same song (“Thing Called Love”) is Hall-worthy! Only lyricist I know of who ever used the word 'somnambulist', whatever that means. Easily the most underrated American songwriter of all-time.
20) JUDAS PRIEST The beast that is the Priest should’ve gone in the HOF way ahead of Metallica.
21) PAT BENATAR Petite on height, but long on lungs—one of the finest female voices in Rock history, hands down. Extra points for being sexy while remaining classy at the same time, which many of today's female performers fail miserably at.
22) DIRE STRAITS Quirky and subtle, but like Tull, strangely consistent. Most definitely a musician’s band.
23) STYX Four triple-platinum albums in a row? "Mr. Roboto"/Kilroy Was Here notwithstanding, they must have been doing something right.
24) OZZY OSBOURNE Already in as a member of Black Sabbath, yes, but for a guy from whom NOTHING was expected when he went solo in 1980, John Michael Osbourne has been a major overachiever and wildly successful.
25) IRON MAIDEN Like Priest, should’ve gotten in way before Metallica. Maiden’s lyrical subject matter can be a bit tedious at times, but the music is killer.
26) BAD COMPANY I was never a gi-normous Bad Co. fan, but you can certainly make a case for their consistent body of work in the ‘70s as being Hall-worthy.
27) JOURNEY Steve Perry’s flakiness aside, this band ruled the ‘80s, and if you look beyond all the big hits, Journey’s “B-stuff” on their albums (“People And Places”, “Walks Like A Lady”, “Rubicon”, “Lay It Down”, et al) is even better than the “A-stuff”.
28) R.E.O. SPEEDWAGON Like Styx, if these Midwesterners were from New York (Billy Joel, anyone?) or California (Eagles, anyone?), they’d probably already be in the Hall. You can’t tell me there’s no East Coast bias in music similar to the one ESPN has in sports.
29) THE GO-GO’S Like Heart, they get in for historical reasons, if nothing else. An all-female band who played their own instruments and wrote their own music—that was a Rock ‘N’ Roll first. And it was pretty good music too...
30) YES They actually dropped down a spot in my list, mostly because I’m not all that big on the Prog. Rock era from the ‘70s where you could time some of their cold and interminable songs with a calendar instead of a stopwatch, but Yes did have their moments now and then, and probably should be in. Oddly enough, my favorite Yes song is one Jon Anderson had no part in—“Run Through The Light” from 1980’s Drama album.
31) DEF LEPPARD Joe Elliott’s voice has all the depth of a shot glass, but he somehow made the best of it, and there is no denying this band’s contribution to making people (especially music critics) take Heavy Metal seriously in the mid-‘80s.
32) SCORPIONS World-class hard rock/metal outfit that is often overlooked by many dummkopfs (like Rolling Stone). Achtung, baby!
33) ELECTRIC LIGHT ORCHESTRA As with the Moody Blues before them, ELO successfully integrated strings and other orchestral instruments with Rock sensibility and made it work. And after all, Whama-lama, bama-lama—Rock ‘N’ Roll IS king…
34) JEFFERSON STARSHIP The overrated Jefferson Airplane’s already in the Hall, and I still think that’s questionable. J. Starship’s stuff was way more consistent and less druggy. However, their inclusion in the Hall should NOT include anything they did without “Jefferson” in their name (to wit, from “We Built This City” onward…).
35) THE TURTLES The Turtles churned out just as many Pop/Rock hits than their ‘60s contemporaries Lovin’ Spoonful did and their songs were WAY better, so how come they don’t rate with the HOF?
Honorable mentions My sentimental favorites whom I know have absolutely NO shot, but deserve to be in anyway: The Rainmakers, Black Oak Arkansas, Molly Hatchet, DEVO, Foghat, Divinyls, Barry White, John Entwistle (for his bass playing alone) and The Rutles.
The final installment of the journey takes us northeastward into the Carolinas. The last time I set foot in North or South Carolina was when I was about three years old when we went to see my Dad’s sister who lived in Burlington, NC. As acute as my memory generally is, I don’t remember a damn thing about that visit 45 years ago, so this was all new territory for me…
“LET’S PLAY SOME OL’ HONK!”
Before we leave Atlanta behind, those immoral words (along with “Play it pretty for Atlanta…”) were uttered by the late Ronnie Van Zant at the venerable Fox Theater when Lynyrd Skynyrd recorded their classic double-live album One More For/From The Road in 1976. The place looks rather ornate, and like the other famed Fox Theaters in Detroit and St. Louis, I’d love to see a concert there someday. But why do they waste such a classic concert venue on the likes of Nicki Minaj? That’s akin to William Hung playing the Metropolitan Opera House…
THAT’S S-A-N-F-O-R-D, PERIOD, STADIUM…
This would be the home of the University of Georgia Bulldogs in Athens, about an hour east of Atlanta. Unlike most of the college football stadiums around these parts that have oodles and oodles of parking surrounding them, most of the stadiums I visited in SEC/ACC territory have virtually NO parking to speak of near them, which makes me wonder how in blue blazes they manage to get 90,000 people in and out of there on game days.
THE FOCUS OF MY TRIP
Here be the vehicle I rented from Enterprise, a 2012 Ford Focus that had exactly 10,000 miles on it when I picked it up. It got awesome gas mileage, 34.5 MPG, but I could’ve done without some of the bells and whistles that came with it, like phone gizmos and an overly-complicated radio/audio system. Not a bad car for weekend ride, though…
GET A PIECE OF THE ROCK
Clemson University’s Memorial Stadium is known as “Death Valley”, but it didn’t live up to its name on a rainy Sunday morning when I dropped by. In one of the cooler traditions in college football, the Clemson Tigers enter the stadium literally from the street on the east end and each player rubs “Howard’s Rock” (enclosed in glass here) before charging down the hill onto the playing surface. Fun way to get fired up for a game, it seems.
VERY ESSO-TERIC
I spotted this place just up the road from Clemson U. and had to get a shot of it. I love seeing vintage signage from “a better, vanished time”, as the Rush song goes, and this one made my day. I remember seeing lots of Esso stations during our family vacations down south when I was a kid, and this place appears to be an old-school gas station that was converted into a bar and restaurant, and the old Gulf sign was a nice touch too. All that’s missing are the “Regular” and “Ethyl” pumps and gas on sale for 32.9…
BUZZ KILL, 101
Believe it or not, this used to be the site of Charlotte Coliseum II (aka, “The Hive”), the mammoth 23,000-seat arena where the NBA’s Hornets once played. The place opened in 1988 and hosted the 1994 NCAA Final Four, but didn’t even make it to the age of 20, thanks in part to its lack of luxury suites and semi-poor location out in the suburbs, but mostly thanks to the Hornets’ dickhead owner George Shinn, the NBA’s answer to baseball’s Charles O. Finley. The original Charlotte Coliseum (now known as Bojangles’ Coliseum—named after a fast-food chicken outfit) still stands and is still in use just east of downtown, while The Hive literally bit the dust in 2007 after the Hornets moved to New Orleans and its site has yet to be redeveloped five years hence.
BOOGITY ENSHRINED
Because of our central location in the contiguous 48, Kansas City was majorly in the running to land the NASCAR Hall of Fame about five years ago, but it’s located in Charlotte, where it truly belong in the heart of Earnhardt Country. I’m a fairly casual NASCAR fan, but I especially enjoyed watching the races back in the ‘70s (back when the number was the most prominent feature on the outside of the car instead of them being rolling billboards like today), and I follow it enough today to know who’s who, so I figured their HOF was worth a look, and indeed it was. It’s only been open about four years, so there aren’t that many inductees so far (no Dick Trickle yet, dammit!), but the exhibits are pretty cool, especially the legendary cars on display on a “track” that wraps around the main atrium of the building and also simulates the various degrees of bankings found on the different speedways around the nation. They also had some interactive exhibits where you can play pit crew and see how fast you can jack up the simulator “cars” to change tires or how fast you can hook up the gas pump gizmo, etc. If I was a more hardcore NASCAR fan, I could’ve spent all day there, but an hour’s worth was good enough for me. An absolute must for racing fans, fer sure.
DE PLANE! DE PLANE!
Just up the road from Nags Head is the Wright Brothers Memorial near Kitty Hawk, but not actually IN Kitty Hawk, which is a bit to the north. The monument resides on Kill Devil Hill, from which I got this shot of the replica of Orville and Wilbur’s first flying contraption. [NOTE: I mentioned Orville first for a change, since Wilbur always gets top-billing, for some reason. Gotta give Orville some love, too, folks!]
PRETTY FLY (FOR TWO WHITE GUYS)
And on the other side of Kill Devil Hill would be the first friendly sky on earth, the strip of land where the Bros. Wright literally learned everything “on the fly” in 1903. It only costs 4 bucks to enter the property where all this went down—er uh, up—and there’s a separate fee for the museum, which I would like to have visited, but didn’t have time.
“WHERE’S THAT CONFOUNDED BRIDGE?”
As I mentioned back during the Big Nor’easter trip last year, I love tunnels. Big bridges too. The outer banks of North Carolina and Chesapeake Bay area have a boatload of both, and for about five years now, I’ve been dying to drive on the Chesapeake Bay Bridge/Tunnel after watching History Channel’s “Modern Marvels” segment on it. It costs $12 one way (and $5 for a round trip on the same day) to ride, and the thing is about 17 miles long and comes with not one, but TWO tunnels that dip underneath the bay to allow ship traffic to navigate unimpeded toward Virginia and/or the Baltimore area. It’s pretty wild to reach a point where there’s nothing but water on either side of you and no land to be found—we don’t have cool shit like this around here! It seemed at times that the seagulls were racing me in the car, too. In addition, the Hampton/Norfolk/ Newport News area had several other tunnels burrowing under the various waterways in the region. Wish I had more time to explore what I found to be a nifty part of the country. I may well head back that way in October…
I had a five-day weekend over my birthday last week, and decided to go somewhere I’d never been before, so I hopped a plane and flew to Atlanta, GA, spent a couple days there, then rented a car and roamed the Carolinas and Chesapeake Bay area for a few days. First installment here will cover the capital of Georgia…
JUST PEACHY
Here was the view from my hotel room on the 10th floor of the Holiday Inn in downtown Atlanta. I’m not even sure I want to know how much the rooms went for in the mighty Peachtree Tower across the way, but I got a pretty decent deal at HI for $115 a night. The location was perfect because it was so close to most of the attractions I wanted to hit in Atlanta, and three blocks from the subway for the rest, thus I didn’t even need a car until I headed out on Sunday morning for the Carolinas.
"WHAT’LL YA HAVE?”
The Varsity is Atlanta’s legendary eatery that I’ve heard so much about over the years. Claiming to be the world’s largest fast-food joint in the world, it’s about the size of an old A&P grocery store. The place is definitely unique, but after all the expectations, I was a bit let-down once I ate there. Apart from the onion rings, the portions were awfully small, and the DOUBLE cheeseburger I had was actually smaller than an Egg McMuffin. The food was inexpensive, not unlike at White Castle, but I was rather unimpressed by it. If I were a local, I don’t know that I would eat there all that often, other than for detox-ing purposes after a night of drinking. One Varsity feature I did find rather cool was the curb service where an actual human takes your order as opposed to having to talk through a speaker like at Sonic.
THE HAWKS NEST
Philips Arena is a rather unique sports venue, especially its layout with all the corporate muckety-muck luxury suites dominating an entire side of the building, similar to Ford Field in Detroit. I attended the WNBA chick bassit-ball game there between the dreaded Atlanta Dream and San Antonio Silver Stars, which attracted about 4,000 diehards on a Friday night. Sadly, the crowd looked to be about 400 in this 20,000-seat joint—perhaps a smaller venue might be more appropriate for a niche sport like women’s b-ball. I also could’ve done without the P.A. announcer, who sounded a bit unprofessional at times by dissing the opposing team, which I thought was rather classless. The arena itself looked like a great place to watch a hockey game—unfortunately, they don’t have a team anymore since the Thrashers moved to Winnipeg last year. Another thing I found curious about Philips was how they posted out-of-town baseball scores throughout the night, but never once did they show the score of the Atlanta Braves game going on right down the road at Turner Field. Sour grapes because Los Bravos draw more fans, maybe?
HAVE A COKE AND A SMILE…AND THEN WHAT?
That pretty much summed up World of Coca-Cola for me. Coke is headquartered in Atlanta, and even though Diet Coke is my favorite carbonated beverage, I had my doubts heading in about whether this thing was worth checking out. But, since it was two blocks from my hotel just across the way from CNN Center and adjacent to Centennial Olympic Park (where the infamous bombing took place in ’96), I took a chance. I wound up pretty underwhelmed by W of C-C—there’s only so many ways to pay homage to a soft drink! I was expecting something more along the lines of the Budweiser brewery tour in St. Louis, where you could see how the product is manufactured, bottled and packaged, but this place was more of hodge-podge of exhibits, most of them aimed at kids. I made the mistake of visiting on a Saturday afternoon, too, and the place was like a damn zoo. I looked forward to the area where you can sample the various beverages that Coca-Cola produces around the world, but after trying the Italian version of Coke (which tasted like Kiwi shoe polish), I felt like I’d been slimed. Apart from the video featuring the vintage nostalgic TV ads for Coke from back in the day, the place didn’t really honk my hooter all that much, and it certainly wasn’t worth the 16 bucks it cost me to get in.
The Rainmakers/The Red Elvises (Saturday, May 19, 2012 @ Knuckleheads) Ticket price: $15.00
371 days after my first visit to Knuckleheads, my friends and I returned there last Saturday night for our third encounter with the Rainmakers during that stretch, and this show was the best of the lot. The crowd wasn’t quite as large as last year’s reunion gig, but it was 30 degrees warmer than that unseasonably-frigid night last May, and our view was much better from the catbird’s section in the balcony upstairs, too (although I didn’t think to bring my opera glasses!). Unlike at the previous two shows (see “Concert #110” and “Concert #111”), the sound quality was just about perfect from the get-go this time, and just like the last two shows, the band was tight throughout their 32-song 2.5-hour set. By my calculations, that’s about 47 cents per song, based on the $15 ticket price—
damn good value! The only true horror of the night was the Schaefers-inducing hot dog I made the mistake of consuming at the venue before the show. Yes, I know, too much information. (Thanks, but no thanks for the information...Because Information's got your #2...) [Sorry, Bob!]
[NOTE: For the uninitiated, "The Schaefers" is my euphemism for diarrhea—it’s short for the Schaefer Shits, an affliction encountered by some guys I knew in college who downed too much Schaefer beer during spring break on the beaches of Padre Island in Texas. Also pronounced ‘da Schafas!’ in Brooklyn. But I digress…]
Not a whole lot had changed since we last saw the band in Richmond, MO exactly ten weeks ago in March—apart from their wardrobe. Instead of all four guys wearing the same color t-shirt like in the last two gigs we saw, individuality reigned and it was “wear what you want” night. Bassist Rich Ruth had the most intriguing get-up, looking like a member of the Charlie Daniels Band in his cowboy hat and red flannel shirt (at left in above photo). The guys also actually did do some “Drinkin’ On The Job” throughout (but not to excess)—Ruth favored Heineken, guitarist/frontman Bob Walkenhorst and drummer Pat Tomek were Bud Men, and lead guitarist Jeff Porter appeared to be working the questionable combo of Red Stripe and Corona. The group seemed in high spirits, too, and it was especially fun to watch Walkenhorst shuffling and dancing around all night when he wasn’t singing, and contorting his face and throwing his entire body into the songs when he was singing. For a man in his late ‘50s, Mr. Walkenhorst acts very 20-something, and ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. Bob also hinted that there may well be yet another Rainmakers album in the works (working title, Explosion In The Dog Shit Factory, he quipped), explaining that what was intended to be merely a one-off band reunion last year has been so much fun that they don’t want to stop. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that, either. I was also able to snag a DVD copy of last year’s Knuckleheads show at this gig. This is a first—after 112 concerts in 33 years, I finally have a full-length video of a show I actually attended—thanks, guys!
The set list varied slightly than Richmond (and was a skosh longer), and while I was most pleased that my personal favorite Rainmakers song “Reckoning Day” returned to the list, their timing was bad because I was on a bathroom/beer run when they played it. D’oh! And like both previous shows, all Rainmakers albums were represented at least once except (again curiously) 1997’s Skin. Knuckleheads is an indoor/outdoor venue that abuts an active railroad line, and Casey Jones came chugging by tooting his horn during “The Wages Of Sin”, prompting Walkenhorst to sing (without missing a beat) “Just about then I heard a…train” instead of “a knock on the door”. “Drinkin’ On The Job” returned from its Richmond sabbatical to the set list, during which the band lurched briefly into C.C.R.’s “Fortunate Son” and Bob Dylan’s “Rainy Day Women #12 & 35” (better known to most folks as “Everybody Must Get Stoned”). "Like Dogs" from their latest album 25 On also returned to the list and my friends were ribbing me about it, especially Walkenhorst's line, "If you don't like dogs, what's your fuckin' problem?" Well, brother Bob, it's like this...you've obviously never been to my house in Raytown and had to endure the Bark-O-Matic nextdoor that has tortured me and kept me awake at night for years—you seriously might change your tune if you ever do drop by. Anyway, apart from another personal favorite, “Tornado Of Love”, being overlooked for the third straight time (WTF, guys?!?), this was about as perfect a Rainmakers set list as you’re gonna get. As in Richmond, a rousing rendition of “Big Fat Blonde” (the cousin of AC/DC's "Whole Lotta Rosie") concluded the proceedings.
Hard to believe it was 20 years ago tonight, May 22, 1992, that Johnny Carson signed off from the “Tonight Show” for the final time, just five months shy of a full 30 years of ruling Late-Nite television. Numerous competitors/imitators have come and gone since then, some successful (David Letterman, Jay Leno, Arsenio Hall, Conan O’Brien, Jimmy Kimmel) and others not-so-much (Chevy Chase, Magic Johnson, Dennis Miller, Joan Rivers, Alan Thicke), but none of them can match the majesty that Johnny (along with co-horts Ed McMahon and Doc Severinsen) gave us for three decades.
