What's up compadres. Grab your self a frosty mug and prepare to chug from the keg that is this weeks ORotW spotlight. First, let me set the stage for this weeks trip down heavy metal-lane. I'm chillin' in my room the other day when my mom's boyfriend Randy sticks his head through the door. "Hey dude, you got a spoon and a lighter I can use"? "My skull lighter is on the floor over there" I tell him. "Be careful with it..I had to pump Ben on my bike to 7-11 six times to get it". "And don't lose the spoon this time....we only have like 3 left. What the hell are you eating in that bathroom every day anyway"? "What's this crap you're listening too" he adds. "Crap...CRAP....this is Patience dude...only the most soulful and deeply poetic song to ever come from the pen of the mighty Axl Rose" "Is that the gay one where he whistles in the beginning lke it's the Andy Griffith song or some ...what kind of heavy metal singer whistles"?? He grabs my lighter (which I never saw again) and leaves. As the tide of rage ebbs, I'm left standing on a beach of doubt. Could Randy be right? Is it possible for a rocker to transcend the genre of heavy metalurgy using atypical means?

As I ponder the question...I glance down, and I see the album cover for Steppenwolfs Gold album....my question is answered. One look at this glorious five-some and you find yourself questioning the very convention of hard rock. Does rock live in the mind? In the heart? in the soul? Does a man have to don the electric guitar to pluck the strings of thrash metallry that vibrate within each one of us? From the picture above, any reasonable person would say no...no they don't. Steppenwolf has been challenging the stereotype of traditional heavy metal since the late 60's (approximately 10 years before it was even born!!!) Anyone can challenge something that exists, but to stand up and give the finger to something that hasn't even happened yet...that my friends is something to be noted. If this picture could speak I believe it would yell at you the following:

"We don't need your fancy gizmos or high tech doodads to rock peoples bones till they break". "We'll have a few guitars maybe...but we'll plug one into a broken down plane...and the other one we won't even plug in at all"!! (and PS the dude will be totally stoked about that). "You think you're so special with your drums and symballs...we can rock just as hard with a dude that sits and claps"!! "And synthesizers...don't even get me started on synthesizers. We just stole Schroeders piano from the Charlie Brown prop closet and slapped some guy in a tiger print jacket and some bellbottoms" "And then there's the guy we kidnapped from the mariachi band. HE DOESN'T EVEN DO ANYTHING!!!" "RAAAAAAAAAWR"!!!!!!

So my friends, I've learned something this week. the pageantry and razzle dazzle of todays (or rather 2 decades ago's) metal concerts might be a fun thing to see now and then. But I ask you this...is this really Rock? Is rock something more intangible than a flying devil with flames coming out of his eyes while he eats the souls of innocent people depicted by white things that kind of look like bed sheets wrapped aound a basketball are flying into his mouth and he wealds the reapers scythe in his hands kind of making a back and forth motion like it's kinda mowing down the crowd but is actually way too far away to hurt anyone probably for insurance puropses and then it flies directly over you and you see some of the cables which is kind of disappointing even though you knew the chance of it being the real devil was pretty remote to begin with? I personally find is somewhat refreshing when a band says "You know what... screw that action I'm relying on nothing but 2 non working guitars, a 12 key piano from a cartoon, a guy who claps, and some other dude to make some of the worlds most bad ass rock".

So my friends I ask you to please raise your skull shaped lighters (which I had to steal back from that jackass Randy)....to Steppenwolf!

A Wolf in Sheeps Clothing

March 14th 2005
9:31am: I walk past a marquee out front of the high school on my way back from 7-11 and almost miss the writing. "Saturday 7 PM one night only, live music featuring Bach....Admission FREE" ...I drop my slurpee.

9:54am I hear fuzzy voices in the background laughing and jeering "Stoner peed his pants" and "you dropped your stoner shake stoner" as I realize I have blacked out. My brain must've hit the reset button before I had time to die from over excitement....and yes I peed myself. But this didn't matter....Sebastian Bach was coming to MY town, and I was going to see him....for FREE

Time and space hold no sway over an existence in which a person is about to attend a free concert featuring the wailings of a musical grand master the likes of Sebastian Bach. I tell you the next few days took no less that 7 months to pass. The passage of time so slow and painful each passing second felt like a rusty nail being forced under my fingernail.

At long last, Saturday night was upon me. I don my Slave to the Grind Tee shirt, and affix a black bandana over my glorious locks.....Lets do this. I walk the 8 blocks to the high school. I'm a bit taken aback to see the crowd of fans that have gathered for the show. Old folks, kids wearing ties and slacks, a few teenagers. I can't help but notice I'm getting a few looks myself, but I'm sure it's just jealousy. But this is death metal...if you're here to salute the one eyed monster of musical mastery, I don't care if you're wearing a banana hammock and a whirly cap. We're all brothers. The doors open and a short dude with a suit announces "this way please ladies and gentleman"...swanky. I press my way through geriatric bodies and nerdily dressed youngsters to the front row. The house lights come down.....my life is about to change.

So, it turns out there is some european boner named Bach. Is that even legal? How does someone who was born hundreds of years ago steal the name of a rock icon of today? And what's worse, his music is the very antithesis of the face meltingly awesome rock I had come to listen to. Fast forward some 3 and a half hours of the most excruciatingly dull music of my life. The smiling withered faces of those around me mocking me like some sadistic clown balloon. I get dirty looks as people who recall the various times the conductor asked me to lower my lighter or trying to get the old fogies to mosh with me, this only worked twice. At one point, before I realized this lame group wasn't the opening band, I was so amped up I wanted to stage dive. Upon further consideration I couldn't find a landing zone that looked robust enough to catch me without breaking a hip.

So in conclusion my friends, Be aware that not all that glitters is rock.
Until next time......V