Rocktober 07, 2016

What's a Dopp kit? If you know the answer, chances are you were either in or had some association with the military. Dopp kits, sometimes called toiletry kits, are small bags, usually leather or canvas, that you use to store your toiletry supplies. First produced by leather craftsman Charles Doppelt in the early 1900's, he won a contract to supply them to the US Army during WWII. They became ubiquitous among GI's and other members of the armed forces. Dad had one, acquired sometime during his Naval career, and he always used it to stow his gear as far back as I can remember.

One birthday during my teen years, Dad gave me my own Dopp kit. Mom later told me Dad wanted to give me something that would remind me of him as I ventured further and further from home. I still have it. It's well worn, and I will always travel with it. It's been with me on every road trip, every business trip, and anytime I've left home since college. It's carried my razor, toothbrush, and deodorant to every state I've visited as well as 8 countries and 4 continents.

Peter Gabriel wrote "Solsbury Hill" after his departure from Genesis. There's a tense trepidation in the song, mirroring his real life as he stepped out on his own, but this seems to melt away in the comforting line, "Son, grab your things I've come to take you home." He found strength in something remembered, some touchstone to the past.

After three decades of packing my kit, the actions have become almost a ritual. My toothbrush is always in the outside pocket, bristle side up. Razor is in the center, blade side down, next to my deodorant. Both are flanked by shaving cream on one side and toothpaste on the other. With everything stowed properly as I walk out my front door on another adventure, Dad's deliberate gift all those years ago fulfills its intent as a reminder, a remembrance, and a touchstone.

Rock-tober 06, 2016

Raise your hand out there if you have an extensive collection of Simon and Garfunkel.

Yeah. I didn't think so. Don't get me wrong. This musical duo from Queens was a mainstay in the 60's beatnik, folk music scene. They released 5 albums whose songs garnered them 9 Grammys, immortalization as part of the soundtrack of The Graduate, and induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel are legit rock and rollers; they're just not my style. I've said before, though, that good music transcends time and genres, constantly reinventing itself. We've seen it on these pages most recently with the now classic Rock-tober 02 2015, and we're about to see it again.

"Sounds of Silence" was tortuously penned by Simon over an arduous 6 month period. When it was finally released in October, 1964, it was a commercial failure. Dismayed and disheartened, the duo went their separate ways. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to them, the song was remixed with more "folksy" instrumentation as backup. It was released again a year later in September, 1965, and this time it went to number 1 and brought Simon and Garfunkel back together.

In stark contrast to our crooning duo, Disturbed is a 5 man heavy metal band out of Chicago. Active since 1994, Disturbed has released 6 studio albums to date. Of particular interest to us is track 11 of Immortalized, their 6th album. Released over 50 years after the original, David Draiman's vocals takes this cover of "The Sounds of Silence" and starts it from the lilting, folksy, original campfire sound and crescendos to a series of bold, growling, imperative statements. Sung at a lower register, the transformation is startling.

This song has been very pervasive on social media. Yet it was brought to my attention not by one of my peers, but through Nic, the high school senior son of some friends. The fact that he gravitated towards a song that had its beginnings with the 2nd generation of rock and roll rather than Minaj or Bieber is very encouraging and gives me some hope for this millennial generation.

Rock-tober 05, 2016

Merle Haggard was born on 06 April 1937 into a very hard life during the Great Depression. In Grapes of Wrath fashion, his family left their home in Oklahoma and followed the sun west, settling in Bakersfield, California. His father found work with the railroad, but died when Merle was just 8. By his own account, Merle was incorrigible as a boy. His mother tried to rein him in, but he ran afoul of the law with a laundry list of petty crimes that landed him in and out of correctional centers. His song, "Mama Tried", is an autobiographical account of his mother's failed attempt to instill in him the conservative values of her faith.

In spite of his Outlaw persona and to his credit, he claimed full responsibility for the actions that landed him in jail. It turns out incarceration actually had a reformative effect on Merle. He earned his GED and started playing in the prison's Country Western band. Inspiration for the latter turned out to be none other than the Man in Black himself, Johnny Cash. Merle was an inmate in the audience during one of Cash's prison concerts, and the experience was a lifelong inspiration to him.

After his release, he steered clear of trouble, working a steady job and performing where and when he could. His unique sound grew his fame and eventually won him nearly 40 number 1 country hits, 19 ACA awards, 6 CMA awards, 4 Grammys, induction into the Country Music Hall of Fame and the Kennedy Center Honors. Not bad at all for a former juvenile delinquent.

Still, his Outlaw mystique stuck, and he liked to play the contrarian card. During the Vietnam War, he fervently protested the war protesters. In interviews he shared how prison taught him what it was like to have your freedom taken away. The young boys going off to fight in a foreign land to defend freedom deserved nothing but respect and support. Decades later, when the Dixie Chicks encountered considerable backlash from fans and the Country Music community in their spat with the George W. Bush White House, he came to their defense.

Merle Haggard was one of the Four Kings of Outlaw Country that I listened to as a kid. Dad's collection of 8-tracks in the car were an assortment of cassettes from Waylon, Willie, Johnny, and Merle. My favorite Haggard album, co-released with Willie Nelson, Pancho and Lefty, dropped in 1983. The title track launched later that same year, and hit number 1 on the Billboard Country chart, jumped genres, and climbed to 21 on the Billboard Adult Contemporary chart.

Continuing to ride the inspiration and influence of that Johnny Cash prison concert so long ago, Merle was still writing music when he was seriously ill early this year. His final recording session was on 09 February with "Kern River Blues" as the result. The song was released posthumously with 10 percent of all proceeds directed to homeless charities.

Merle Haggard died on his birthday, 06 April 2016. Thank you, sir, for your music and your principled stances. For a self affirmed Outlaw, you were a hell of a class act.

Rock-tober 04, 2016

In the fall of '87, my freshman year at South Alabama, there was a bevy of international students assigned to my dorm. The first time away from home and their home country for most of them, fitting in was a high priority. They were looking for guides and mentors to help them navigate the assimilation process in both the American collegiate setting as well as American culture in general. Unfortunately for them, what they got were pranksters and the pothead troubadours of Alpha South dorm who themselves were away from home for the first time. Regardless, for the most part, we managed to keep their missteps just this side of jail-able offenses.

At one party, Kengo, from Japan, couldn't quite grasp that just because a screwdriver contained orange juice, it didn't nullify the effects of the vodka. Kengo's only prior experience with alcohol was just before he left Japan. His dad took him out on the town and introduced him to Saki. Now, after tossing back an unknown number of screwdrivers, this normally sedate guy became very loud and animated, extolling what in his highly marinated mind was Japan's greatest contribution to world culture.

"Godzilla! Godzilla #1! Japan #1!"

"Hey, Kengo, get off the counter, man. You're gonna hurt yourself."

"GODDDZIIILLLLLAAA #1!!!"

More productively, one guy from Lebanon quickly discovered rock and roll along with his roommate's record collection and stereo system. He gravitated towards Def Lepard's Hysteria album, just released that September, and utterly fixated on track 1: "Pour Some Sugar On Me." Day and night the the entire floor could hear this album looped over and over cranked to 11. Suddenly it would get quiet as Danny, his roommate, had had enough and killed power to the system. A few seconds later, in a heavy Lebanese accent, we'd hear in protest, "Dammit, Danny! I want to hear 'Pour Some Sugar on Me'!" This little vignette played out over and over all bloody year. "Dammit, Danny!" became the unofficial greeting on the floor and was duly recorded in the Alpha South newsletter as one of the top dorm quotes of the year.

I transferred to Auburn University the next fall, and while I missed a lot of the connections I'd made the year before, I did not miss Danny's roommate's glucose fetish. I liked Def Leppard well enough, but come on, dude. Seriously? Pick another album from time to time.

No matter. I was now 4 hours away from Mobile in Auburn - a fresh college, a fresh town, and a fresh start - until the Auburn Tigers went 10-2 in the regular season. Their reward for this grand accomplishment? A trip to the Sugar Bowl. Guess what had become the unofficial theme song for the event?

Rock-tober 03, 2016

I once heard this spiel from a Defense Intelligence Agency recruiter looking for field operatives.

You've got to be at least bilingual. Your interview will begin when I drop you off in the middle of a country that speaks your second language. I'll then confiscate your phone, ID, credit cards, and cash. You'll then have to meet me at 7PM at the Caledonia Bar in the Upper East Side in 2 weeks time.

Although I did take a year of Spanish with Mrs. Alexander back at good old Long Beach High School, I'm not sure it would've helped me navigate passage from downtown Buenos Aires back to NYC for brewskis at the Caledonia. I've discovered, however, that I must look Latino, at least from a distance.

I was walking down the street one typical hot, humid summer wearing shorts, T-shirt, and shades to fend of the sun and heat when I heard someone addressing me in Spanish.

"Que tal, ese. Donde esta..."
*Hey, man. Where's the... I think he was asking for directions to a hair salon...or maybe where he could get a horse.

I replied, "Ingles, por favor."
*Yo, dude, I may be sporting a year round tan and look Hispanic, but I actually only had a year of high school Spanish. Could you please repeat your query in English?

This kind of set him off.

"Ingles?! Por que Ingles?!"
*Dude! What's up with that?!  He launched into what I think was a diatribe about how Spanish was a beautiful language and no Latino should be afraid to take pride in the mother tongue, Latino culture, and empanadas...or maybe it was something about a bathroom.

Me: *sigh*
Me: *takes off shades*
Him: "Ay! Lo siento, senor!"
*Bruh.... With the shades on and from your year round tan, I didn't realize you were Filipino and not Latino. My bad.

"Put Your Lights On" is a single off Santana's Supernatural. Everlast penned and voiced the lyrics so no translation is needed. And Santana's soulful fretwork never needs translation.

Rock-tober 02, 2016

Back in college, I struck up a conversation with a random guy while I was waiting for Andrea on campus. When he found out I was Filipino, he mentioned he'd spent time in the Philippines while he was in the military. He abruptly held up his hand to pause the conversation. "So, being Filipino, you probably have a Hispanic last name."

 "Nope. I doubt you'll find a lot of Capuyans south of the border."

"Huh. Well, you're Catholic, right?"

"Nope. Raised Protestant."

"Well...do you at least come from a very large family?"

"Nope. Only child."

"Man, you're an ethnic impossibility."

I've observed that another hallmark of Filipinos is their innate ability to sing. A karaoke machine is a staple in just about every Filipino home, but not at Casa Capuyan. While most of my relatives sound great in front of a mic, I'd have trouble carrying a tune in a bucket. Apparently when talent was being handed out, they were standing in the "golden voice" line while I was picking up extra portions of "can fold fitted sheets" and "be particularly annoyed by pictures hung crookedly".

One native son of "The Pearl of the Orient" who acquits himself admirably in the vocal department is Arnel Pineda. After Steve Perry separated from Journey, the band went in search of a new frontman, eventually getting a bead on this guy from Manila. Admittedly, it's not the first place you'd think of finding new pipes for Journey's repertoire, but fans embraced the newcomer with sold out show after show. The first album in the Journey - Pineda collaboration, Revelation, was released in June 2008. It went platinum in less than a year and a half.

Meanwhile, Pineda brings a new energy to the classics. Check him out rocking a hometown crowd.

But I wonder if he can fold fitted sheets...

Rock-tober 01, 2016

Music lost some giants in 2016.

The swath cut through the icons of my youth was horrible, and as a fan, the loss was hard. I can't imagine what it's like from the other side of the microphone. Being in a rock and roll band isn't a regular 9 to 5 office gig. You're in close proximity and close quarters 24/7. You eat, sleep, work, and play together. Your fellow band mates become your greatest antagonists and your staunchest defenders. They become your family. So how do you continue to move forward when you lose your source of momentum? Countless bands implode after losing a key member, particularly their lead singer. This was the challenge faced by AC/DC back in 1980.

In February of that year, after a night of heavy drinking while working on the genesis of a new album, Bon Scott climbed into the back of a friend's vehicle to sleep off the bender. He never regained consciousness. True to his hard charging mystique, his demise was recorded as "death by misadventure" and attributed to acute alcohol poisoning.

In the midst of this tragedy, the group seriously considered disbanding. However, Scott's parents convinced the surviving members that their son would have absolutely wanted them to continue. Invigorated by this mandate, the remaining members sought out someone who could vocalize Scott's vision. In Brian Johnson, they found an immediate chemistry with his personality and his love of the music. And, of course, that voice - that distinctive voice that could stand toe to toe with Angus's screaming riffs. Re-energized and reconstituted, the band was now on a mission to pay tribute to their former lead singer. The result was Back in Black. Everything from the title, to the black cover, to the lyrics of the title track was a tribute to Scott. Record execs balked at the presentation, perhaps thinking it too morbid, but the band would not be swayed.

Released less than 6 months after Scott's death, Back in Black became the band's magnum opus, going to #4 on the American Billboard 200 and eventually certified 22x platinum. It's currently the 2nd best selling album in the world.

AC/DC took a tragic death and forged from it one of the the seminal works in the annals of rock and roll. This is a magnificent achievement. It also delivers a forceful and resounding F.U. to the Grim Reaper.

Welcome to Rock-tober, y'all.

Rock on.