Rock-tober 09, 2016

Mom always talks fondly about growing up in her hometown of Baguio City in the Philippines. This big small town nestled high up in the mountains on the island of Luzon was blessed with its location. Unlike the capital city of Manila three hours to the south that baked in sweltering summer heat, Baguio enjoyed a perpetual spring of moderate temperatures and low humidity. The defining characteristic was the dense forest of old growth conifers that covered the mountainsides. Every breeze carried an invigorating woodsy pine scent. It sounded like heaven on earth, and I glimpsed it briefly the last time we visited during Christmas back in 1976. Unfortunately during the intervening decades, rampant development kicked in. Now, traffic snarls, water shortages, and rolling blackouts are the norm. Most tragically, the evergreen cloak of pine forests has been stripped away and the only thing wafting on the breeze is traffic noise and the smell of diesel. I'm told it's still a beautiful place, but after a visit she had a few years back, Mom said it's just not the same.

Although I was born in Baguio City, I've adopted Long Beach, Mississippi, as my hometown. The ever present breeze carried the bracing scent of brine off the water. This proximity to the water lead to countless memories of fishing with Dad on the old USM pier or the rocks in the harbor. When I was older, the beach was a place to hang out with friends or source of mischief depending on our mood. All in all, this little small town on the waterfront afforded an idyllic childhood and youth.

There's been talk recently of bringing casinos to Long Beach. A common sight in the neighboring towns of Gulfport and Biloxi for decades, there's a growing movement to bring these "cash cows" to my hometown. I hope it stays just "talk". I hope the defining, pristine feature of my hometown's namesake won't be spoiled with a gaudy edifice from an over saturated industry.

JJ Grey and his band, Mofro, hail from Jacksonville, Florida. He penned a song about the blight of overdevelopment, and with a laid back, bluesy sound, they bemoan the influx of developers dropping in yet another golf course, gated community, or structure in tribute to "the mouse".

Another entry on my "Chill" playlist, Mofro's "Lochloosa" reminds me of my adopted hometown. I hope when I go home it's still the place of my childhood not the misfortune that befell Baguio City.

Rock-tober 08, 2016

In the spring of 1983, Men at Work released Cargo, the Rock-tober alumnus's sophomore offering, and "It's a Mistake" debuted as a single off the album later that summer. While the song lampooned players in the Cold War, the simple chorus, "It's a mistake," reminds me of situations where the only viable reaction is, "Oops."

Glen Beckwith was one of my closest friends from my time at Auburn University. His quiet and unassuming manner hid the spirit of a master storyteller, and on many occasions, he held us spellbound with stories from his growing up years in Kissimmee, Florida.

One account was about a country doctor calling on some friends. As he stepped through their front door, the two young daughters of the house ran up to him. Their flushed cheeks and red, swollen eyes showed they'd been crying recently. When he asked what was the matter, one held up their pet hamster, lying limply in her cupped hand. "He's really sick. Can you help him, please?"

"Now, darlin', I'm a 'people' doctor. I'm not sure what I could do for your little friend."

"Pleeaassee?" Their eyes started to well up with tears again, and he realized he was beaten.

"Okay," he sighed. "Let me take a look." Gingerly, he took the hamster from her and started an exam, gently turning the inert form over in his hands. He noticed a portion of its abdomen was very distended, and, curious, poked at the protrusion. That got a reaction. The previously listless form let loose a loud squeak and latched on to the doctor's finger with its teeth.

Startled by the sharp, sudden pain, the doctor let loose a few loud expletives of his own and tried to shake off the little attacker. He succeeded, and the hamster went flying across the room in a graceful, sailing arc towards the other family pet, a large German Shepherd. The tiny furry projectile, being mistaken for a toy or treat, disappeared in a single canine gulp.

Both girls, front row witnesses to this, lost their minds. Sobs became howling screeches as they jumped up and down, flailing their arms manically. The German Shepherd, thinking this was a new game, was pleased as punch and started barking enthusiastically while bounding about the room.

The good doctor, taking in the scene, came to the dawning realization that he'd made a terrible mistake. All he could do was nod an apology to his hosts and slink out the door.

Oops.

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.