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Posts Tagged ‘1980s’

Dear Music Fans,

I’ve been on a roll lately — getting out of the house and saying yes to live music. I have thoughts about performances and venues, because of course I do.

And you’re here, because I guess you want to read them.

Acts: The Breeders with Team Dresch
Venue: Pioneer Courthouse Square
Highlight: “Cannonball” by The Breeders

I’m an OG fan of The Pixies. Kim Deal was the key ingredient for their early success. Black Francis needs her, even though his ego thinks he doesn’t. When she started The Breeders, I knew there was room in my heart for both bands.

But like The Pixies, The Breeders can be hit or miss. For every “Cannonball,” there’s a “Hag.” (For every “Wave of Mutilation,” there’s a “Hey.”)

As for the venue, I was concerned about an outdoor space in downtown Portland at the end of summer. I was worried for nothing. It was the perfect temp and size. There were places to stand and places to sit (on steps, until some jackass spilled his entire beer). The acoustics were top-notch. Ravens flew overhead. The stars were out.

The people watching was spectacular. Young and old turned out. I did not realize this, but The Breeders fan base skews lesbian — a fact Team Dresch, also out and proud, noted repeatedly.

They were great, by the way. Never heard of them, but they are from Washington and have been around a while apparently.

The Breeders put on a fun show and had plenty of energy. Kim sounded fantastic, and we all got out of there at 9:30 p.m. on a school night.

Team Dresch: B+
The Breeders: A-

Acts: Squeeze with Adam Ant and Haircut 100
Venue: Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall
Highlight: “Goodbye Girl” by Squeeze

I know what you are going to say: “You said you’d never see Adam Ant again.”

I know.

But he was sandwiched between a band I had seen before and loved (Squeeze) and one I hadn’t and wanted to (Haircut 100).

I figured I could go get a drink if it was that bad.

It wasn’t so bad that I had to escape to the lobby, but it wasn’t great. Adam was more ambulatory than the last time, but his voice was … um … not where one might want it to be for paying customers. And he’s still wearing the same stupid outfit he’s been wearing for seven years — down to Aunt Maude’s best Sunday church hat.

Please stop.

On the other end of the spectrum, Haircut 100 had plenty of energy and put on a great show. Squeeze did too. Difford and Tilbrook have still got it. They sounded the same, and played all the hits.

They also played “Trixies,” a concept album they wrote in 1974 when concept albums were de rigueur.

They played this album right in the middle of their set.

You know how a mattress sags in the middle in a cheap motel?

Yeah.

Everyone just sat down — which is frankly what I thought the middle-aged audience would be doing the whole time anyway. I mean, Arlene is a bougie old gal. We all had plush assigned seats.

After the shock wore off, boredom set in. I might have taken a nap. My concert-mate Jason got antsy and warm (Arlene had a hot flash) and roamed off.

Finally, they pulled up the Trixies sign and kicked back off with “Hourglass.” Everyone got back up and started dancing again as if the last 40 minutes had never happened.

Jason and I never want to hear about loose women at Trixies again.

Haircut 100: B+
Adam Ant: D
Squeeze: A- (without Trixies); C (with Trixies factored in)

Acts: Rob Zombie with Orgy, The Hu and Marilyn Manson
Venue: Cascades Amphitheater
Highlight: “This is Mongol” by The Hu

Sometimes you have to say “Yes” to adventures. Jason and I were last-minute tagalongs on Gerard and Jesse’s date to see this lineup. Marilyn Manson is a trash person, but I was interested in the rest.

As it turns out, the singer for Orgy might be trash too — so much so that sources say they got kicked off the tour before the prior show.

Lawn seats at the amphitheater were reasonable, but we nearly needed to take out personal loans for the rest. Want a beer? That’s $25. A Rob Zombie tank top? $50. A burger, fries and soft drink? Also $50.

I would have paid more to see The Hu, though. They are REMARKABLE. I don’t even have the words to describe their sound or energy. They use a horse head electric fiddle played upright, for God’s sake!

Next was Manson. The music is good, not gonna lie. I hate that I like it. But I wasn’t there for him … and his dead swan.

In addition to pissing off birds everywhere, he angered the crowd by screaming “Portland” after every song. The amphitheater is in Ridgefield, Washington.

I also wasn’t there for his nightmare-inducing bassist.

Liza Minnelli Manson and whatever that is

I killed time by discussing the Clancy case via text with Dominic and also convincing him to start listening to The Hu immediately.

Rob was next, but there was a significant set change. There also was a significant temperature drop. Though I had been mocked by someone I will not name for bringing a jacket, I was glad to have it.

Rob started off strong with “F.T.W. 84” and “Tarantula.” The set was indeed elaborate. He was very funny, but said something alarming: Rob said there were 17,000 people in attendance.

Um.

That meant 17,000 people leaving at the same time if we all stayed to the end.

Spoiler: We did not hear “Dragula” live.

We skedaddled during “Feel So Numb.” To be honest, he sounded out of breath. He is 61 after all.

At least we weren’t from running to the car to beat the rush. And we made it back to actual Portland in no time.

Orgy: 0
The Hu: A+
Marilyn Manson: B (for sound); F (for the person delivering it)
Rob Zombie: B (partial credit)

What’s next? What’s left of the Sex Pistols in Denver. I’m sure I’ll have opinions (because of course I do.)

Love and kisses,
Beth

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Dear Friends and Family,

This time last week, I was on a cruise. I didn’t pay the exorbitant fee for ship WiFi, and I was thus blissfully unaware of Leon and his band of Hitler youth interns hijacking the Treasury. Among other things. 🙄

Oh those halcyon days!

Anyway.

What kind of cruise?

Chris Jericho’s Rock ‘n’ Wrestling Rager at Sea.

Listen: I grew up in Georgia. Y’all know I’m a redneck.

Wrestling was a part of my childhood. Dusty Rhodes, the American Dream, was like kin. One of my first crushes was Robert Fuller, whose tag-team partner was Ted DiBiase, the Million Dollar Man.

All Elite Wrestling is the best. It’s far superior in storylines to World Wrestling Entertainment. It’s like a soap opera featuring sweaty men. And one of the best characters is Chris Jericho. He understands the assignment.

Jericho is on the right wearing a onesie featuring cats and tacos.

Jericho also fronts one of my favorite bands: Fozzy. Fozzy performed on the cruise, along with a bunch of other bands.

Wrestling AND rock music? It’s the perfect combo for me. I’ve been wanting to go on this cruise for years.

Pre-trip, people would ask where the ship was going. I answered, “I don’t know. I don’t care.” Turns out: Puerto Plata, DR. Fine. I was there for what was happening on the Norwegian Gem.

In addition to Fozzy, the lineup featured the return of Great White. Yes, THAT Great White. They have a new singer. He’s very talented and VERY young. Was DEF not alive during the band’s first go ‘round.

The singer bears a striking resemblance to 20-hour Tina’s daughter Elsa.

Others: Kuarantine (another Jericho-fronted band, this one focused on KISS covers of the no-makeup years), Guardians of the Jukebox (all covers), Excitable (a Def Leppard tribute band), Nocturnal Affair (a screamy metal band), and — another favorite of mine — The Hot Damn!

Love them. Listen to “I Didn’t Like You Anyway” or “Automatic.”

And then there was the wrestling.

Ricochet and Komander put on an acrobatic show. This isn’t your dad’s wrestling extravaganza.

There was at least one show per day along with photo opps, autograph sessions, podcasts and random other events — events like a belly-flop contest.

Here’s Will Ospreay with his stellar attempt.

As you are all on a boat together, you could find yourself riding the elevator with Toni Storm.

Or passing Turbo Floyd of the Outrunners in a hallway.

He’s right out of the ‘80s all the time!

Or standing in line at the bar with Jesus.

What was hilarious later is that Fozzy has a song called, “Drinking with Jesus.” The crowd was SO EXCITED and lifted this man up to the front. Sadly, Jericho didn’t even notice. Missed opportunity, I say.

As for drinking, I started the cruise still doing Dry January. Friends, that is a rough choice. ROUGH. Especially when I hear fellow passengers say things like this about their own drinks:

“I’m drunk, and I can tell that’s strong. Got DAMN, that’s strong!”*

But I made it.

And I didn’t get crazy on the trip, either. Unlike others. Look at Will Ospreay’s face after a night of drunken karaoke:

Let me tell you: Cruises are GREAT for people watching.

On the last day at sea, my traveling friend and I sat and watched people for hours. I asked him if he was going to get a chair massage like the dude next to us.

He said, “Absolutely not.”

I said, “Why not? You liked the last massage you got.”

He said, “That was in a nice relaxing cave. This is on a ship surrounded by weird people with Great White doing a sound check in the background.”

Fair enough.

Five days, four nights of events tailored to my interests? Yes, please.

I mean, JUST LOOK!

I’ll tell you this: It was the first time on this cruise, but it won’t be the last.

Who is coming with me next time?

Let’s go!
Beth

*Yes, “got damn” with a “t.”

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Hey kids!

Auntie Beth is back to help you make sense of the weather.

If Marge from the holler is trying to tell you the gub’ment is controlling the weather, don’t believe her.

This is the same person who thought that Jewish space lasers caused California wildfires.

Also, she’s PART of the government.

Also, she’s said humans don’t cause climate change (but if they did that it’s good for us.).

But humans DID cause Hurricane Helene?

Really, it boggles the mind.

But MTG isn’t the only halfwit out there tweeting (er .. Xing) nonsense.

  1. Application (louder for people in the back)
  2. Abandoned
  3. Sound waves
  4. Joins applications for fun things like time travel and invisibility cloaks and urinal headrests
  5. Can’t we get rain over deserts?

But wait, here’s more:

Ok, y’all: I’m going to address just one thing to bring the rest of this nonsense into focus:

These storms brewing in the Atlantic at the same time? Not a coincidence.

That’s right. That’s because IT’S HURRICANE SEASON.

Hurricane season runs June 1-Nov. 30 EVERY YEAR.

It’s at its most active in late August and September when water temperatures in the Gulf and in the Atlantic are at their warmest.

(Reality check: When was Hurricane Katrina? Aug. 29, 2005. Who was president? George W. Bush. When was Hurricane Andrew? Aug. 24, 1992. Who was president? George H. W. Bush.)

Facebook reminded me I was worried about the path of Hurricane Matthew at this time eight years ago.

So a little check back around this time every effing year would find a few storms brewing in the Atlantic. These storms have gotten more intense. Why? CLIMATE CHANGE, YOU ABSOLUTE TURNIP.

(Ok. I’m breathing. I’m breathing. In with the good air. Out with the bad.)

Back to the U.S. government controlling hurricanes. Does it? No. Did it? If you count some light cloud seeding back in the 1960s-1980s? Still no (it didn’t work).

Auntie Beth recommends you stop believing complete buffoons and liars and start believing and helping people who want to do things such as:

  • Reduce carbon emissions
  • Replace and repair critical infrastructure
  • Find and fund insurance for homeowners and renters in areas potentially most affected
  • Build storm-resilient structures
  • Develop new clean-energy sources and technology

If you can’t do that, at least stop sharing misinformation on Leon’s sinking barge of barf.

Auntie Beth thanks you.

*Sorry, Cher.

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Dear Billie Joe, Tré and Mike,

Thanks so much for taking the Saviors Tour to Portland. Because of you, I got to share a special evening with my son.

I’m a Green Day fan — perhaps not a super fan, but a fan nonetheless. I love live music of any sort. Gideon is a Green Day fan. I’ve been trying to steal his Green Day shirt for a year now. And his girlfriend loves Smashing Pumpkins, one of the openers.

It seemed like a no-brainer for us to go.

So we did.

Heavy rain (yay, Oregon!) and traffic (yay, Portland!) and difficulty parking (yay, Providence Park!) meant that we missed the Linda Lindas and Rancid, which made me very sad. We did arrive in time for Billy and the gang, though, which made Mikayla happy.

Typically the home stadium for the Portland Thorns, Providence Park is a great music venue with fantastic acoustics.

Sadly, our open-air floor seats meant we needed our rain ponchos at times.

Didn’t matter. Totally worth it.

When you played “Longview” (Gideon’s favorite), he said, “I’m so happy, I think I might cry.”

And I thought I might cry too.

It was only Gideon’s second concert, if you can believe it.

His first also was with me.

He was not even a year old. I was wearing him in one of those baby Bjorns at the Police reunion tour stop in New Orleans in 2007. (Long story for another time. Going to the concert with kids wasn’t part of the plan, and a friendship ended over it.)

You sounded AMAZING! As good if not better than the recordings. And you’ve been at it for 37 years. Fitting then that it was a 37-song set list.

37 songs!

All of “Dookie.” All of “American Idiot.” Plus a few more classics.

Billie Joe, you seemed choked up too.

Maybe it was because it was the second-to-last night of a very long tour. Maybe because it was a great night. Maybe we were all sharing something special.

So thanks. From the bottom of my jaded little heart.

❤️,
Beth

*”Good Riddance”

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Dear Trump Fans,

Before you think, “Oh, here she goes again — another political post,” let me assure you that it’s not. No policy points here. It’s about personality. It’s about Trump the man.

I don’t like him at all.

I know, I know: I’ve hidden it so well. 😉😂

The only time I even liked him a wee bit was when he wore a yellow suit on SNL.

So my genuine question for you: Why do you like him? As a person? Not as a candidate.

I’m going to make some general sweeping assumptions. I might be wrong on a few when it comes to bets on you, but I’m not wrong on him. See links.

He’s just so different from you (and from me) as a human being.

You worked hard for your money. He didn’t.

You pay taxes. He doesn’t.

You pay your bills. He doesn’t.

You work to keep your business afloat. He doesn’t.

You love spending time with your family. He doesn’t.

You have friends. He doesn’t.

You don’t mock people with disabilities. He does.

You don’t lie. He does.

You have to work at least eight hours a day at your job. He didn’t.

You don’t call people names. He does.

You wouldn’t take a bribe. He likely did.

You give to charity. He misused charitable funds.

You likely have pets. He doesn’t.

You might be able to dance. He can’t.

You wouldn’t bury your dead ex spouse on your land. He did.

You don’t cheat on your spouse.** He does.

You aren’t gross about women in general. He is.

You haven’t raped anyone. He has.

You haven’t been convicted of a felony. He has.

I would hope you aren’t racist. He is.

A couple of these on the list might not be a problem. I mean, not everyone can dance. Some people are allergic to pets. But a collection of more than four or five, and we are starting to get into weird territory.

And those last three are deal breakers for my fan club threshold.

You might say, “But Beth, I don’t have much in common with Taylor Swift either.” Yeah. But she has friends. Cats. Gives to charity. Works hard. Ticks off a number of “like us” boxes.

He’s not like you. Like me. I’m sure you are a good person with a good work ethic and good friends/family.

Have you ever seen this man laugh really hard at anything? Have a genuinely good time? Can you imagine him drinking a beer and playing Uno? Riding a rollercoaster? Wearing a bathing suit and playing in the ocean with Barron?

Some of this can be traced back to his roots. To paraphrase Roxie Hart, he didn’t get enough love in his childhood.

Fine. Fair. But break the cycle, man.

He seems exhausting to be around. No fun whatsoever.

So why do you like him?

I hope the answer isn’t, “He says what I’m thinking.” THAT would be awful (because … that last point, y’all).

I guess I don’t really expect an answer, but I also really don’t understand.

Mystified,
Beth

*Origin (?) of the phrase

**And if you do, it’s not likely to be with a porn star.

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Dear Adam,

I know we broke up in September 2019. I moved on.

I never forgot you, though.

When I heard you would be traveling through Salem, I decided to go see you for old times’ sake.

Our relationship has had its ups (2013) and downs (2012 and 2019)

I see you haven’t changed at all in the past five years.

Left: 2019; Right: 2024

I mean AT ALL. You might not have even been out of those clothes in all this time. I have no idea.

You’re even still wearing that stupid hat. Whyyyy?!

And you are peddling all the same merch. With new tour dates, sure.

I have all these shirts.

There is one new thing about you:

What is this, Adam? One single dreadlock? Gross.

Your voice sounds great, and you’ve remained trim.

But I don’t understand the little stage hops. You moved like your pants were too tight.

I know you are almost 70. I understand that you are not in your prime.

But this is your only job. And many fans are still paying to see you perform.

You have no kicks to give.

Frankly, I’m concerned. Your eyes looked dead.

When you were introducing the band, you paused for so long, I thought about calling 911.

Were you smelling burnt toast?

Seriously, I am worried about you.

Take some time off. Regroup. See your barber (and a stylist). Maybe consider retirement. You’ve worked hard. You’ve given the world some great music. Fans appreciate you. Don’t repay their loyalty by dying on stage in front of them.

Love always,
Beth

* The dandy highwayman himself

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I start listening to Christmas music the day after Thanksgiving. It’s all I listen to the whole month. I’m not ashamed.

Some songs I like much better than others.

Here are my Top 10 “classics” (30+ years old):

  1. “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year,” Andy Williams. When I hear this, I know we are in my favorite season.
  2. “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas,” Bing Crosby. A true classic.
  3. “Do They Know It’s Christmas,” Band Aid. Nothing says Christmas like the “clanging chimes of doom.” Don’t listen to the lyrics. Just enjoy Boy George, Bono, George Michael, Sting and Simon Le Bon, among other ‘80s faves.
  4. “Winter Wonderland,” Eurythmics. I’m a child of the ‘80s. “A Very Special Christmas Album” is canon.
  5. “Sleigh Ride,” Ronettes. It’s so peppy.
  6. “Christmas Wrapping,” The Waitresses. It’s the bass line for me.
  7. “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree,” by Brenda Lee. Try not to dance to it. I dare you.
  8. “You’re a Mean One,” Thurl Ravenscroft. The Grinch is the OG of holiday crankiness. I love him, but I don’t identify with him until his heart grows three sizes.
  9. “Merry Christmas Darling,” The Carpenters. Karen had some pipes.
  10. “All Alone on Christmas,” Darlene Love. I can’t explain why I like this one. I just do.

I also like “new” stuff. These are my favorites:

  1. “Underneath the Tree,” Kelly Clarkson. Love her in general. She seems normal.
  2. “Mistletoe,” Justin Bieber. Don’t say a word to me. I have no shame.
  3. “Like It’s Christmas,” Jonas Brothers. Again, no shame.
  4. “You Make It Feel Like Christmas,” Gwen Stefani and Blake Shelton. It feels so HAPPY!
  5. “Merry Christmas,” Ed Sheeran and Elton John. I like Ed in general. Can do without Elton. But I like this song.

I just heard another contender today: “Fancy Like Christmas” by Walker Hayes. I love the original song (“Fancy Like”). This is a fun take.

Of course there are songs I hate too. I’m not even going to link them. I love you all too much to torture you.

  1. “Blue Christmas,” Elvis. Just the WORST. Draggy and thoroughly unenjoyable. The song itself isn’t bad. This rendition is dreadful.
  2. “Feliz Navidad,” José Feliciano. I just hate it. Only a few words over and over.
  3. “Little Saint Nick,” The Beach Boys. It feels like it’s stuck in first gear. Never gets going.
  4. “Winter Wonderland,” Katy Perry. I love her. I don’t love this. It’s not her best work.
  5. “Santa Baby,” Eartha Kitt. Yes, she’s a legend. But this song is lifeless. I prefer Madonna’s version. See No. 4 in the top 10.

Please tell me your favorite and least favorite in the comments.

Happy holidays!
Beth

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Captain’s Log, Day 4 (375 miles logged)

This is Merle the RV at home in the Rushmore View RV Park. Merle seems like he’s old, fat and sleeps naked. You’d never know that Merle came in under cover of night and rain.
Merle is basically parked in the lot for this place. Do NOT use a black light in any room.

We decided to eat breakfast in the thriving metropolis of Keystone.

Along the way, we saw more interesting chainsaw sculptures.

But we were there to see two much bigger sculptures.

Mount Rushmore
Crazy Horse

I did enjoy seeing both these monuments. However, my experience was marred by a few things:

  • The oppressive heat. Surely I must have lost 10 pounds in water weight from sweating.
  • People. The older I get, the less I like crowds. And as these are tourist attractions, there are many people there. I think one person out of five operates on one brain cell. So you get hundreds of people together, and you are bound to have a pack of idiots.
  • Flies. The house fly must be the South Dakota State Insect.
  • The admission price. It cost $35 to get into the Crazy Horse Monument. That would be a good price if I liked museums or movies about history. I don’t. The family doesn’t. I think we should have saved money and just driven by. But we didn’t.
This photo cost $35. 😉

We got on the road to Cody just after noon. Wyoming makes South Dakota seem wildly overpopulated.

There aren’t even any billboards!

It’s flat for miles, then suddenly there was a canyon.

Eddie to me, the driver: Slow down, please.

Me: It’s fine. It just feels weird from over there.

Him: The brake isn’t working.

Me (alarmed): What do you mean?

Him: The brake over here (gestures to the passenger floorboard).

We rolled up to the Cody KOA at 6:52 p.m. When I checked in, I found out that there is a free shuttle to the Cody rodeo every night during the summer.

A RODEO!

But the shuttle would be leaving at 7 p.m.

Eddie didn’t want to go, so he said he’d handle setup. The boys and I ran over to the bus.

You KNOW I wasn’t going to miss my chance. I haven’t seen a rodeo since I covered one in Ludowici, Georgia, when I was a TV reporter.

I was DEFINITELY more excited to be there than they were.

The only bad thing is that the clown co-MC’s jokes were SO OLD. For example:

What do OJ and that Bronco running around there have in common?

Neither one wants to go to the pen.

Yeah.

Still. A good time was had by all.

Coming tomorrow: Yellowstone

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Dear Friends and Family (old and new),

As many of you know, I’m adopted. I was adopted when I was about six weeks old. (“Fresh baby! Get her while she’s pink!) I’ve always known I was adopted. My parents said they would help me look for my birth family when I was ready.

I was never ready when they were alive.

It felt like it would be disrespectful to them to search. Also, what if my birth mother hadn’t told anyone about me? Showing up on her doorstep would be a bit of a surprise — and likely not in a Prize Patrol kind of way.

I had great parents. Howard and Jeanne loved me, and I loved them. I had a normal middle-class childhood: We lived in a standard subdivision of ’70s split levels (say that three times fast) outside of Atlanta, and I went to public schools but a private college (scholarship, FTW!). We weren’t rich, but we weren’t poor. No abuse. (Unless you count all those times I got whacked with a fly swatter because of my smart mouth. And I certainly don’t.)

Some of my friends were adopted too, and we commiserated about what it must be like to actually look like someone else or see some of your behaviors handed down from a parent. My parents often looked at me like I was a zoo animal because I had so much more energy than they did. They were sedentary people. And y’all know I am … not.

Still, my friends weren’t so keen to search either. It’s a big thing. Rejection looms large.

All I knew about my birth mother was that she was a very young college student and didn’t feel she could care for me at the time.

When I left college myself and started thinking about starting a family, I wrote to the adoption agency to see if I could get any medical information. It felt important to find out if I had a family history of cancer, heart disease, diabetes (“The Shugahs” if you are from the South), etc.

They sent back a few pages of typed social information: birth parents’ first names, general background, number of siblings, physical features, college education, circumstances surrounding my conception and birth, etc.

Then, the kicker:

My people, I was not ready for that. I folded that little letter back up and tucked it into a file folder. There it stayed for nearly two decades.

And even now as I try to explain what has been going on over the past few years, I realize I have to stop here for now.

This feels like a four-part series: Beginning (this part), Discovery, Meeting Mom, Meeting Dad.

Stay tuned. (If you are interested, that is.)

XO,
Beth

*Credit to Harry and the boys.

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Dear Musically Inclined Readers:

Last week’s trip to the karaoke bar made me really want a go-to karaoke song.

To be fair, it hasn’t been an urgent need. I’ve only participated in karaoke twice in my entire life.

The first time was at McDonough’s in Savannah. Some friends and I laughed our way through “Summer Nights.“

The second time was in Japan at a neighborhood bar (aka some lady’s living room). The song was “American Pie.” You think you know that song until you try to sing it. (Go on. Give it a try.)

There’s a sweet spot for good karaoke songs.

It needs to be something like “Sweet Caroline” where there always will be audience participation.

But because I’m a very special snowflake, it can’t be something everyone sings (i.e., “Don’t Stop Believin’” or “Livin’ on a Prayer“).

And I cannot abide sad-sackery on a night out. No slow songs!

So what’s it going to be? “Ice Ice Baby” or “Don’t Forget Me (When I’m Gone)?” Should I channel Dee Snider or Cher?

What is your favorite song to sing or to hear in a karaoke bar? Tell me in the comments.

Thanks!
Beth

*In a metaphorical sense. I do not actually want to sing the blues. Shudder. Thanks, Billie!

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