Black Country Communion

Black Country Communion

Live Show Review

City National Grove of Anaheim

June 10, 2011

Black Country Communion, the world's most recent super-band, is currently on their debut tour across the United States. Comprised of pseudo-legendary talents such as Glenn Hughes of Deep Purple, Trapeze, and Black Sabbath, (Bass/Vocals), Joe Bonamassa of several popular collaborations and solo albums, (Electric Guitar), Derek Sherinian of Dream Theater (Keys), and finally the cream of the collabo, Jason Bonham, son of the Legendary Led Zeppelin Drummer John Bonham (Drums). 

Pseudo-Legendary is not meant to be an insult to these monster talents. Each one in their own right shines brightly in this unexpected rock megalith. Hughes hits the incredible high notes and flipped-up bass fills, Bonamassa cranks some seriously arpeggiated glam-rock solos, Bonham does his damn Bonham thing and Sherinian has some really impressive solo sections. Over all this is a musician's band and band for those who simply care about nothing else but rock.

Namely the band is rather misleading as one may expect something in the Black Country, Country genre, or at least a Stevie Ray Vaughn Rock/Blues with a twang, but alas this is not the case. Black Country Communion is your father's Audioslave: Amazing musicians playing generic rock that is too busy rocking to innovate. BCC is pure entertainment.

Shredding Flying-V Glam-Blues isn't the only entertaining thing you will likely see at these shows. You know those hippies that got jobs and went to college instead of doing drugs and living in their mom's basement? They will be there. Either with bald heads or unapologetic mullets. Who will they be with? Some will bring their obviously square wives with their over sized earrings. Some will bring their "musician-friend" who has a greasy grey skullet (balding mullet)and a Bonamassa T-shirt. The others will bring a fellow "dude" to have a few beers with and rock out.

Perhaps I am too quick to judge off of the one show I have seen, but I can assure you, guys, there are no women at this show. None at all. If you are ready to experience beer-drunk 50-something party dudes screaming, "I love B.C.C."- You are going to the right show. If you want to catch one of Bonamassa's slick red guitar picks- you are going to the right show. If you want to see some incredibly talented musicians play unmemorable (besides the ringing in your ears) rock- you are going to the right show.

Ironically enough this sound seems to translate very well over the pond. BCC's self-titled debut album, released in September of 2010, charted at #13 in the Official UK Top 40 Album Chart, #1 in the Official UK Top 40 Rock Album Chart and #2 in the Official UK Top 40 Indie Album Chart. Their second studio album produced by Kevin Shirley who produced for Journey, Iron Maiden, Rush, and Led Zeppelin is expected to explode by the end of June 2011.

My recommendation would be to check out the website: www.bccomunion.com and listen for yourself. If you love what you hear- you are in for a hell of a show. If not, join me a collective head-scratching as we wonder together how such super-talent still can't quite get our feet tapping and our fingers snapping. 

 

Black and Light

Do not participate in the unfruitful deeds of darkness, but instead even expose them; for it is disgraceful even to speak of the things which are done by them in secret. But all things become visible when they are exposed by the light, for everything that becomes visible is light. Eph 5:11-13


Eventually a choice will be made between those who honor themselves and others and those that just pretend to. Anyone can get around in the dark without light but compared to the potential of what one can do in the light there is no comparison.


Making a mistake does not put you in the dark. Everyone screws up. Owning and reconciling those mistakes, however, is the only way to lift your head. The truth only exists in light and both are tangible and physical. Without them there is no life. 

Unknown Sabbatical

After spending a time away I have just realized. Wow, I have not written in such a long time. Realizing this happens to me every once in a while I told myself out loud, I need to write. Shortly after saying that in my relaxed state I realized, no. I want to write. Writing has meant so much to me in this adult life of mine. Why would I take a break? Well... let me see.

There are so many good things I can think of that have actually hindered me from writing. In the past writing has been a way for me to connect with my thoughts and I have had the blessing to know people who actually care to comment and share in my thought life. My idea of a good time is having people react, relate, agree or disagree with my thoughts. Lately, however,  I haven't been involved in this public thought sharing mindset. My artistic expressions lately have morphed and social outlets have simply changed.

One shining example is the fact that I have an amazing woman in my life who I talk to for hours a day. My dreams,  concerns, thought, opinions and feelings have an immediate and supportive ear to rest on every single day. Marissa is my sound board, she is my partner, and someone who I believe in and trust. So naturally, the idea of tossing thoughts in to cyber-space have almost completely lost their subtle appeal.

Another great thing is that I recently moved. Well, in November. But still this has been a contributing factor in my delinquency. Now I live on my own in an amazing little place where I can hang my hat. It is a converted studio (AKA a garage) that has a full bath, kitchen, and living space. It can be a little cold without a heater but I have a great space heater and a nice wall AC for the summer. I love living on my own and, might I add, in such comfort and simplicity.

Thirdly, I have recently acquired an additional job. Both of my day jobs are completely computer-centric and I am sure any other office stiff like myself can understand.  Computer screens have little appeal after spending 10 or so hours a day plugging in words and numbers.

Billy Kernkamp is the final great thing that has taken me from writing. This band I joined over a year ago has been pleasantly playing consistently, recording, and networking since August of 2009. We recently had the pleasure to open for the legendary John Doe at Detroit bar in Costa Mesa and have a show lined up in February at the House of Blues in Anaheim, Ca.

So normally I would try to make myself feel bad for neglecting my "soul," my personal "art," and "passion." But this time I am not, my soul is in overdrive and my passion has increased and my art is becoming more and more of who I am and less of what I do.

The things I do and the people I love have been beautiful and  I can only pray that the palette I am mixing will continue to color this world the only way I know how.

So in retrospect it really hasn't been much of a sabbatical but more of an unknown surprise. Life has to surprise me, once the celebration leaves then what kind of life is that? You can spend a whole lifetime trying to avoid surprises or you can just enjoy the surprises. This is where I want to find myself and the people I love. In the middle of a constant life-long surprise party where everyone is always invited.

Jonathan Richman @ Detroit Bar 12/9/10

Remember that scene in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory where Gene Wilder as Willy is introduced? Wonka meekly walks upon a cane toward the suddenly silent crowd, stops, and does a somersault as his cane stands impossibly behind him. Wonka's masterful entry perfectly mirrors the awe Jonathan Richman inspired at Detroit Bar last Thursday night.

Jonathan Richman is a master of entertainment. After 40 years of writing and performing all around the world this muse has perfected the art of leaving inspiration in his wake. Richman’s empty stare and upturned eyebrows compliment his half-cocked neck and the fact that he is simply holding a Nylon-strung acoustic guitar with no shoulder strap.

           

Amidst several guitar spins and casual sashays away from his vocal and guitar microphones, Jonathan meekly walks through his songs without flaw. Each one of his songs possesses a quality of freshness, as if he is covering his own songs in a new way just for the moment. Backed by Tommy Larkins, his long-time friend and drummer, Richman plays through an entire set of his light-hearted and often-comical music followed heart-to heart and beat-by-beat by the rest of the room.

Under some strange spell Jonathan walks to the edge of the stage periodically and begins to dance to his own music. When he isn’t dancing he is grabbing his jingle bells or cowbell to ring out some rhythm for his audience. He sings a song in French and also a song in Spanish as if there were any further way to accommodate the audience. In stereo, laughter is heard when a particular verse exposes Richman’s sardonic side and a chorus when a familiar song is played.

During no point of the night is there a break, a distraction, or a moment that allows anyone in the audience to break their concentration from Richman’s far-off gaze. Not often is there a moment in a concert that offers such wonderful simplicity and intimacy on top of the honor to see a true legend perform.

           

What is Richman’s secret?  Surely anyone can pick up a guitar and sing to impromptu chord structures with an incredible drummer. Well, not really, but what makes the difference from him to anyone else? If I had to guess I would have to say: pure imagination. 

If you want to stay up to date with Richman I stumbled upon his Unofficial Fan Blog that has show dates, fun facts, and other such cool things. 

This Politician Should Really Consider Changing Their Name...

Got Justice?

The court fell silent. The news was puzzling, it was so puzzling you could actually hear the jury making their judgments. Considering the status of the defendant, his wealth, and his place in the community his peers weren't sure what do think about such a situation.

He had dipped a doughnut in a glass of milk.

This was not the verdict, no, it was simply a fact. That the morning the crime was committed the defendants alibi was breakfast in his kitchen that very morning. His gardening boots were on the floor near the bar in his kitchen where stood a tall glass of cold milk and a chocolate covered doughnut.

One of the female jury members shrieked through the silence, "It takes an imbecile to dip something in a glass of milk!" Immediately she was placed in contempt of court for interrupting the preceding, but this left the rest of the jury unnerved and unable to come to a conclusion. The dipped doughnut was the crux of the alibi and there was no way to prove it one way or an other.

(Law and Order sound)

To be continued...  ?

Fall Facelift

So I just wrote an entire post about the new facelift of the blog and then Safari crashed. This is my life.

Well I will try to pick up where I left off... I have been thinking for some time about revamping my rather typical looking blog in to a more streamlined look. This may not be the final face of GetDecked, but I am certainly a step closer. I even included my own quote in the headline. Hey... it is MY blog after all.

Besides... look at the bottom. I have included all of my friend's blogs that I read on a regular basis. If you would like your to be added send me a comment, send an email, come by my FaceBook, write me a tweet @getdecked. However you desire.

I am looking very much forward to writing and interacting with you all a little more. Thank you for stopping by!

Tattoo this Blog.

Writing prompt: Write about a reality in which the only way to publish a book is on human skin.

This is what I wrote:

Good morning, you have 30 new updates. The shower cycle is: On. Please press: OK to continue your morning routine. Thank you. Calisthenics will begin in 30 seconds.

The morning news fills the room as Jared begins his morning routine. The yellow-green sunrise peaking through the metal shutters never seems to change any more. The faint memory of his grandfather enters his mind as his electronic art hanging in the narrow hallway switches to an image of him reading his favorite book. Jared didn’t know much about books and always maintained a puzzled memory of his grandfather reading.

A familiar clicking sound was beckoning him in the kitchen where his breakfast was made ready for him the minute his shower cycle had finished. His breakfast shake was ready and as soon as he finished he set about his day.

Music surrounds the hallway outside of his apartment. A familiar tune, he thinks to himself, as he hums along and walks to the front of his building. Today is the first day of his new job.

Jared has a new job every three days. Today he will be a Marketing Executive for Billcom, and industrial credit company, that employs only the finest Market Executives. Rehearsing his presentation that he is briefed on while on his way to work, there is a confident air about him and he knows that this job will land him at least 30 points. Fortunately, he thinks to himself, rent is covered for this week.

Immediately he arrives at the docking port for his new job and is greeted by the docking attendant. “Good Morning , Jared Han, please enter your identification card for job verification and office access.”

Swiping his card he can’t help but say aloud, “I don’t think I will ever get used to this.” The robotic doorman’s default response rings as always, “Very good Sir, thank you.”

Billcom was a monolithic structure, one of the new fly-rise buildings on the lower East Quadrant. Since 2045 the buildings have been getting higher and higher off the Terra and a giant like Billcom was one of the highest. Despite its unique enormity the lobby had the same tart citrus smell as every other place he has worked. Fortunately at an Executive level he won’t have to deal with the smell; his office will be his own.

Flashing to attention as he enters his office, three monitors click in to operation mode and begin displaying the Billcom logo and an electronic representation of the CEO’s voice begins.

“Good morning Mr. Han. You will find all of your necessary access codes on the tablet in your lower left-hand drawer. Please enter your access card in to the tablet to begin your morning download. You presentation is expected in 15 minutes. Your tablet will direct you to the appropriate meeting place. Thank you.”

To be continued?? 

(Probably not.)

The Game Plan

There are moments when all one can do is to escape. Built upon a lifetime of seeking comfort from everything painful teeters the ability to risk and survive. The day when you said something hurtful just to escape. The day you convinced yourself that the world wasn't right for you. Those times when your perfect plans crumble like volcanic ash because of one mistake. Perhaps it was many mistakes. The grueling hours you are forced to wait to apologize. The sleepless nights. The meals you all of a sudden had no taste for. The irony of the fact that your escape plan has led you to a place of exile. You avoided your choices, neglected your freedoms, and sacrificed your hope. Escape is never a plan to live by. Escape is your last option. It is silly to believe that this world is a prison. It is impossible. Everyone holds the keys that unlock doors of personal freedom. All men and women in their own ways must discover these doors. Living as a refugee, constantly trying to escape, hiding your keys and fearing the doors will never lead to freedom. Escape is never a plan to live by. Escape is your last option.

You to Me

I couldn't make up

I couldn't write down

A story untold

The world around

That special spark

To this smoldering ground

Requiring just me

My smile, my frown

With great torrents of love

Your unshaken faith

Brings solid ground

Where I lay my face

On the track just to hear

The train coming down

I have no need to worry

Since you are around

Pictures of Me

What will it take to raise the stakes
To release my heart out to the banks
To dive deep in to sweet love's lake
I stop at the shore to contemplate

For all that you are to me
Your eyes make me see
But strangely enough
It is my own eyes that set me free

Full-knowing my doubt and fear
Yet seeing my own face crystal clear
Fearful, dreading, even more
Of love I have never seen before

Not different to you this smile I bring
But to me it is sharp, calm, and comforting
For I above all know the looks of my face
Now blissfully changed and reflecting your grace

Mazing

When nothing can explain

No word, verse, or refrain

That I would take your pain

Like the sun takes up the rain

Many things I have had

For only a certain time

Life that is lived is truly life divine

And when what is lost you can no longer find

Hope for peace and quick release the burdens on your mind

For the heart is fickle in its many ways

Changing on a dime or two in hindsight-present haze

And love, not a feeling, but a thought, a gift, a gaze

Closer, farther, sooner, later a path within a maze

Untitled: Part 1

Spotlight hits the stage as she walks the bulb-lit path. She sashays intentionally towards the the crowded club and draws the microphone near. Swiftly she turns and catches a glimpse of the water condensing on her piano player's Whiskey drink as he hits the downbeat.

Were it only a few years before there would had been no club or spotlight to speak of. The past had nothing remotely musical to offer. Nobody ever said it but really that is why her music was something special. Singing her perseverance, dancing her strength, and projecting her victories by mouthing words of cheap love to a melody. "Rich lungs," her manager says while putting out a cigarette, "she was born with them."

Jazzy rhythms pulse through the crowded club. A glass breaks followed by sarcastic applause of a over-dressed man with a thin mustache at the end of the dim bar. "I hope that was his drink," says the singer, "because that is my applause." He receives the remark sardonically bowing and giving her his half-witted attention.

Swelling and stopping her voice holds captive the moment in time. Beads from her dress tapping at the microphone stand while she masterfully shifts back and forth to the rhythm. Were it simply music the crowd could casually live in yet another night but this night is no longer their own.

To the Painters

This excerpt was written by Richard Howard from his 1979 book, Misgivings. I wanted to use his words to dedicate attention to the Gulf Oil disaster currently polluting our precious ocean.

On the United States, Considered as a Landscape

Not a building, this earth, not a cage,

these waters: the country is

a body, to be treated so: when

the weather is mild, think

of the past, when the weather is mean,

think of the future. Men do

thus, and evolve a metropolis

from litter: leaves, straw, floating

bottles and boxes, a mainland which,

like anything else, cannot

be made all at once to drop its rags,

suddenly to stand naked,

fully disclosed. Time- it has taken

time to collect in wide pools

even the beginnings, skeleton

and cartilege, arteries

and bladder: if our Sublime cannot

rise above such things as beer

cans and plastic picnic forks, it is

not all we say, it cannot

really be the God in which we trust.

Image borrowed from: http://oceanworld.tamu.edu/resources/oceanography-book/Images/ixtox1.jpg

Piece.

Entertain my soul

Through the sounds and the sights

Shine through the depths

Of this tar covered night