Eddie Who? Removing Brown M&Ms, Backstage Rider on the Storm & more

Draft Contents ---

1 – The Who VH1 Rock Honors today – Eddie Who??

2 – Backstage Rider Collection: Peeking Into 50 Rock Star Dressing Rooms

3 – He Removes the Brown M&Ms – Interview With a Backstage Diplomat

4 – Backstage Raider: He Mooches Meals From Rock Stars

5 – GigSanDiego.com – New Local Musician Resource, courtesy Ike Turner drummer Bill Ray

6 – Judas Priest’s “Nostradamus” – my prediction….

THE WHO ON VH1 ROCK HONORS - EDDIE WHO????????

I’m watching the new VH1 Rock Honors special featuring the Who. Pretty great so far, with some documentary-type stuff in between the live music numbers and a slew of stars doing introductions (BTW, when did Mila Kunis get so hot?!). The show has performances from the Foo Fighters, and Incubus does a killer version of "I Can See For Miles." Jack Black shows up dressed as Elton John dressed up as the Pinball Wizard, to introduce the Flaming Lips, who bring their own giant inflatable pinball to toss into the audience (the audience molests it like, well, like Ann Margret on that bean-covered white pillow cushion) -----

Pearl Jam is also on the show. Eddie Vedder says he recalls seeing the Who for the first time on June 18, 1980, at the Sports Arena, back when he was still named Eddie Mueller (he’d later take on his mother’s maiden last name).

“[Drummer Kenney Jones] was on fire,” Vedder recalled for Rollingstone.com. “These guys changed my whole world. It’s a big part of why I get to do what I do.” Pearl Jam has been known to perform Who cuts like “Behind Blue Eye” and “Baba O’Riley.”

Filmed at UCLA’s Pauley Pavilion, the Rock Honors special includes Pearl Jam performing two songs from Quadrophenia; “The Real Me” and a version of “Love, Reign O’er Me” with a string section backing the band.

“I came out all the better for it,” Vedder said after a dress rehearsal. “That time was almost like a peak for rock and roll bands. The arrangements and the musical structures and the maturity really reached a high level. That’s why this is good. There is a potential for reinvigorating people’s interest in the Who, because we’re getting to the point now where [young music fans] might have missed them.”

“I don’t hear that use of instrumentation and even the natural approach to musicianship in some of the newer bands.”

When the Who played the San Diego Sports Arena on October 10, 1976, beneath Keith Moon's drum kit that evening was a Persian rug that the day before had graced a reception area near his room in a Phoenix hotel. According to the biographical DVD The Most Dangerous Man Alive, Moon was "accused by another hotel guest of urinating on the expensive carpet...easily seen by anyone walking past the room." Moon told hotel management that the wet spot had been caused by a spilled drink.

"When told the band would be billed for the full value [of the rug], Moon moved some furniture off the carpet, rolled it up, slung it over his shoulder, and took it immediately to the band's tour bus, using it that night and over the next few dates [including San Diego] to anchor his notoriously unstable drum kit."

The 21-song set included cuts from their newest album, The Who by Numbers, including "Squeeze Box" and "Dreaming from the Waist," as well as an eight-song medley from Tommy (the movie version having debuted the previous year). No local news reports surfaced of damage to the Westgate Hotel, where the band stayed that night before driving to Oakland. The Who only played San Diego one other time with Moon before the drummer died in September 1978.

BACKSTAGE RIDER COLLECTION

When the Who come to town, Roger Daltry’s private dressing room requires six bottles of tonic water, a bottle of Belvedere vodka, a jar of honey, two packs of Throat Coat lozenges and a “small supply of vanilla ice cream.” Pete Townshend’s requirements include two large bottles of orange juice, six bottles each of Evian and Perrier water, six cans of Coke, six cocktail cups (“glass”) and a Chamomile tea setup (“with milk, not half and half”).

When Pearl Jam takes the stage, they’ll allow “no signage on, around or about the stage [including] any corporate sponsored venues, radio and TV stations, etc.” They want their dressing room stocked with a loaf of multigrain bread, a dozen fresh bagels, four large bags of chips (“include tortilla, potato with guacamole and salsa”), assorted sodas (“Coke Classic, Diet Coke, 7-Up, root beer”) and three quarts of fruit juices (“fresh squeezed”). The band carries their own juicer, for which they expect celery, beets, tomatoes, apples, oranges, grapefruit, bananas, pieces of Ginger and Ginseng root and six pounds of carrots (“no stems”). Required smokes include a carton each of Old Gold Reds and Camel Lights and the band wants a case of beer waiting for them on the bus (“no Budweiser”). Word to the ravers; “There is to be no sales of glow-lite style merchandise at a Pearl Jam show.”

Wherever Clay Aiken performs, his dressing room requirements include a basket of green apples (“preferably Granny Smith”), a jar of applesauce, a case of room temperature water (“anything but Evian”), and – big surprise – a loaf of white bread. In addition, “One meal must be prepared for Clay that does not have the following in it: nuts, mushrooms, coffee, mint, chocolate and shellfish…this truly is very, very serious.” Finally, he wants a 6-pack of Mountain Dew (“caffeine free”) and four containers of yogurt (“fruit on the bottom, please”…fill-in-your-own-gay-joke-here).

When Ashlee Simpson performs, she may be stressing over halitosis, given her request for bag of Ricola cough drops, some Dentyne Ice or Orbit gum, a small bottle of Cool Mint Listerine, and a toothbrush with toothpaste. Other backstage contract requirements include a box of Oreos, two bags of Lay’s potato chips (regular and Baked BBQ), a box each of Wheat Thins, Triscuits and Ritz crackers, a jar of sweet pickle relish, a bag of Skittles and “a jar of your finest grape jelly.” Drinks: a case of Red Bull, 24 assorted sodas (“Coke, Diet Coke and Diet Vanilla Coke”) and 72 bottles of water (“no Evian”). Her band is described as “orchestration…drums, bass, two guitars and pre-recorded sequences operated by the drummer.” Their dressing room gets a 12-pack each of Miller Lite and Amstel Light.

Ted Nugent’s catering contract states “Absolutely no takeout meals will be deemed acceptable, i.e. McDonald’s, Fish and Chips, Weinerworld, Chinese, etc.” His dressing room requires a can of Planters Fancy Cashews, a large bag of Rold Gold Pretzel Thins (“fat free”), two cans of white tuna in spring water (“unopened”), a loaf of whole wheat bread (“sliced”), and two Yoplait low fat yogurts (“strawberry, blueberry, or mixed fruit”).

Drinks; four cans of Red Bull energy drink, six cans of V8 juice, a twelve-pack of Diet Coke, a large bottle of Ocean Spray Red Grapefruit juice, and a half-dozen Slim Fast drinks (“four chocolate, two tropical fruit”).

He also needs a toaster, a carving knife, a carving fork, six ceramic coffee mugs (“no Styrofoam”), 36 bath towels (“full size”), and a box of “man sized Kleenex.”

Wherever Alicia Keys appears, promoters are advised that “Alicia only eats fish and vegetables, no chicken, no beef, and no pork.” Her dressing room requires a hummus and pita platter, a veggie platter (“carrots, celery, cucumber, broccoli”), a fruit platter (“strawberries, seedless red grapes, bananas, mango, blueberries, cantaloupe, raspberries”), and a bowl of mixed nuts (“unsalted”). She also wants a jar of mayonnaise, a loaf of bread (“multi-grain or whole wheat”), three cans of tuna (“chunk white”), ten Nutri-Grain Bars (“blueberry, cherry, apple, strawberry”), and six packets of Quaker Oats Instant Oatmeal (“brown sugar and apple”).

Drinks; ten bottles of assorted vitamin water, three bottles each of cranberry and apple juice, a quart each of Silk Vanilla Soy Milk and Chocolate Almond Milk (“can be found at a health food store”), and four ceramic coffee mugs (“eight ounce”).

In addition, she expects her dressing room to include a box of Throat Coat Medicinal Tea and three scented Glade candles (“French Vanilla, Rain Shower, Wild Berry, or Tangerine Ginger”).

Her tour bus requires two bottles of red wine, one case of imported beer, a case of domestic beer (“Amstel Light, Corona, Bud, Bud Light, or local beer”), four quarts of orange juice (“no gallon containers”), and an unspecified amount of “microwavable oatmeal.”

K.C. & the Sunshine Band’s lead singer K.C. (what'd ya think his name was -- Melvin??) requires a bucket of fried chicken (“fresh”), a large bag of Ruffles (“light”), a deli tray of meat and cheeses (“no processed or meat substitutes”), and eight “dark towels.” Drinks: three six-packs of Diet Coke, a dozen bottles of Gatorade or Powerade (“assorted flavors”), a six-pack of light beer (“ice cold), and hot decaf tea (“not herbal!”). The Sunshine Band room gets a 50-piece tray of buffalo wings, 24 bottles of Evian water (“room temperature”), a gallon each of Tropicana apple and orange juice, and four 12-packs of assorted cold beer (“mix of Heineken regular and light”). The beer, it is noted, should “be held until the band is onstage.”

Before Matchbox 20 performs, their hospitality room requires a bag of pretzels (“fat free”), a bag of Hershey candy bars (“bite size”), cookie packages (“Oreo, Chips A’Hoy, Nutter Butter”), two “big packs of gum,” and two boxes of Kleenex (“UNSCENTED!!!!” in caps, with four exclamation points). Drinks: six cans of Red Bull energy drink, a twelve-pack of Orangina Sparkling Citrus Beverage, eight bottles of assorted Snapple or Fruitopia drinks (“no fancy mixed flavors”), a dozen bottles of Heineken, and two bottles of red wine (“do not open”). Also, “Artist may request help in booking tee times at a local golf course.”

When Ludacris comes to town “at no time shall Ludacris be without his assigned ground transportation and driver.” His dressing room requirements include a large screen TV, a DVD and CD player, a Sony Playstation or Xbox game system, four full-length mirrors and a dozen aromatherapy candles (“pillar style”). Drinks: one bottle each of White Zinfandel, Hennessey, Bombay Gin, Grand Marnier, a six-pack of Heineken (“bottles only”), a case of assorted soda (“no Pepsi”) and he wants the mixing board station to have a case of Red Bull energy drink.

Before Public Enemy performs, “Artiste [sp] will be granted a one hour sound check.” The promoter must provide (“at no expense to Artiste”) a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken (“mixed”), ten fresh baked fish (“snapper or whiting”), two large cheese pizzas, a tray of “various cheeses” and several family-size packs of cookies (“Sunshine, Hydrox, chocolate chip and Vanilla Fingers”). A note states “all food must be Kosher…no pork.” A perplexing tour bus requirement: “twelve large assorted sandwiches (eight tuna, eight turkey and cheese).”

Before Clint Black hits the stage, his band’s dressing room requires a loaf of whole wheat bread (“40 calorie”), two bags of Guiltless Gourmet tortilla chips (“preferably yellow corn”), two packages of fat free cookies (“preferred Snackwells Devil’s food”), and four assorted non-fat yogurts. Ten skinless, boneless chicken breasts must be provided (“no processed”), to be prepared “roasted or grilled on open fire, with no butter, creams, or oils, just plain.”

When Ozzy Osbourne plays, the venue “must have a real ear, nose, and throat doctor on site…must be able to administer if required a B12 shot and Decadron (anti-inflammatory) shot.” An oxygen tank must be available from load-in.

When Aerosmith appears, “under no circumstances will the purchase of alcoholic beverages be allowed as a show expense.” They want the hospitality room stocked with chicken tikka pieces with yogurt and mint dip, turkey sandwiches (“on whole wheat”), Medjool dates, corn on the cob (“cooked three minutes only”), an assortment of fat free fresh-baked muffins (“no 7-11”) and “no pressed meat or processed cheese.” They also need contact info on hand for “a throat specialist, a physician fully qualified in internal medicine, osteo-podiatrist and a licensed chiropractor.”

Before Vince Gill plays, he wants his dressing room carpeted and equipped with a clothes rack, two full-length mirrors and an ironing board. He also requires two quarts each of various fruit juices (“apple, orange, grapefruit, pineapple and cranberry”), a gallon of spring water (“room temperature”) and a box of herbal tea bags. The band’s dressing room gets a cheese and fruit tray (“with crackers”), a half-case of Coke Classic and a case of Evian water (“small bottles”).

Before Jimmy Buffett takes the spotlight, “purchaser, at its sole cost and expense, shall provide Artist with five limousines or four 15-person passenger vans.” When dinner is served for the crew and performers, “Jimmy should be (and often will be) the first person in line.” His dressing room requirements include a case of Coronitas beer, four Balance Bars and “this room needs to have the nicest bathroom.” The band hospitality room requires four bags of blue corn chips and salsa (“homemade”), three bottles of Chardonnay wine, three and a half gallons of Zephyrhills water, twelve Snapples or Arizona ice teas, and a case of Corona “to start with and to be replenished during the performance.”

He wants another half case of Corona at stage left and the band bus gets a six-pack each of Budweiser and Bud Light, two six-packs of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, a four-pack of Guinness Pub Draught and a six-pack of “local microbrewed beer.” An additional “two cold Coronas” are required for “Jimmy’s car” and he’d better get a ninety minute soundcheck, otherwise “Artist shall be paid full compensation without the necessity of performing.”

When Jennifer Lopez decides to sing, first her dressing room requires tables with white tablecloths, a white couch, white drapes, white candles, and a bouquet of flowers (“white”). Her clothing needs include a wardrobe rack, a steamer, an iron, and an ironing board. Expected munchies include honey peanut Balance Bars, mango and papaya fruit, chocolate chip cookies, brownies, and an apple pie (“a la mode”). Drinks: a selection of Nantucket fruit drinks, Snapples (“raspberry, lemon, iced tea”), Kerns (“apricot, mango, pear guava, peach”) and “no tomato, apple, or grape juices.”

When the Steve Miller Band appears, their hospitality room requires tortilla chips (“one bag unsalted, two bags salted”), a pint of guacamole (“no supermarket prepackaged”), a “bunch” of cilantro (“fresh”), a dozen cloves of garlic, and a gallon vegetarian soup (“homemade”). Drinks; a half case of Corona beer, a half case of Coors Light, a half case of Heineken, a half case of “local microbrewery,” a six-pack of non-alcoholic beer (“Haake Beck or Clausthauler”), and a quart of acidophilus milk. Miller demands that no Styrofoam products be used, and he wants the crew to “act in an environmentally sound fashion.”

While the Black Crowes are in town, “dressing room must be equipped with real furniture…individual wooden chairs or stools is unacceptable.” Expected munchies include a whole chicken (“roasted”), a loaf of rye bread (“pre-sliced”), a jar of Guilder’s mustard, a large bag of M&Ms (“plain”), a box of crackers (“Carrs, Ritz, etc.”), and a deli tray with turkey, ham, salami, and bologna (“not processed”). Drinks; two six-packs of Coca-Cola (“classic”), a dozen bottles of Gatorade (“green”), 24 bottles of Sapporo beer, 24 bottles of Heineken, and two bottles of Ketel One Vodka (“750ML”). The band bus requires a case each of Heineken and Sapporo (“no cans”), a case of bottled water (“no gas”), and a six-pack of non-specified non-alcoholic beer.

When Mariah Carey agrees to perform, she expects two hot air humidifiers and two air purifiers to be running in her dressing room. Requested munchies include low fat bread, low fat cheese, low fat snacks (“Gold Pretzels for example”), a selection of sugarless gum, a bag of Ricola throat lozenges, some Honey Bear honey and tea service for eight (“must use Poland Springs water”). Drinks: three six-packs of Diet Coke, a six-pack each of caffeine free Coke and Snapple Iced Tea, two bottles of Cadmus White Wine, a bottle of Cristal Champagne (“chilled”), four champagne glasses and “one box of bendy straws.”

When Kenny G shows up for a show, he requires a separate room near his dressing room for his personal chef. “The Chef will need names, addresses, and phone numbers for natural food stores, fresh seafood markets, organic vegetables, and oriental markets,” according to G’s backstage rider. He wants his dressing room to include a “nice fresh flower arrangement with Japanese flair,” as well as an assortment of herbal caffeine-free tea (“all natural”) and “all natural salt and pepper.”

Before Hootie & the Blowfish start playing, they want their dressing room stocked with pretzels, Sun Chips, a cheese platter, a deli tray with turkey, ham and roast beef, some whole fresh fruit, potato chips (“plain”) and a loaf of white bread. Drinks; three cases of Evian water, a case each of Coke, Diet Coke, Mountain Dew, Dr. Pepper and ginger ale, assorted Snapples, two half-gallons of orange juice (one with pulp, one without) and three cases of Budweiser (“bottles”). A cooler on the right side of the stage should contain ten more Buds, a six-pack of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale and a fifth of Jim Beam.

When Toby Keith is the headliner, “any opening act must match the artist’s merchandise prices.” In addition, “artist has his own roaming glow ring, glow rose and live rose operation…no glow products of any nature or any live roses are allowed to be sold by anyone other than representatives of the artist.” Keith requires 100 free tickets (“between the sixth and twelfth row”) and another 100 “prime tickets” must be set aside for his fan club members. Dressing room requirements include a 12-pack of Diet Coke and a fruit tray, and he wants his tour bus stocked with a case of Dr. Pepper, a case of Gatorade and a 12-pack each of Newcastle Ale and Honey Brown Lager. Finally, bootleggers beware; “If any authorized recording is discovered, artist shall have the right to withhold artist’s performance…until all copies of same and all mechanical instruments having to do with same have been surrendered.”

When Heart are booked for a gig, their dressing room requirements include a dozen bottles of Arizona Green Tea (“not diet”), a quart of Odwalla Carrot Juice (“or other organic carrot juice”), a half gallon of skim milk (“organic”), a case of Sierra Nevada or Rolling Rock beer, two bottles of “quality” Cabernet Sauvigon (“must be corked”), and twenty plastic cold cups (“not waxed”). In addition, they want one Honey Bear, a bag of Halls Menthol Cough Drops, and a bowl of fresh fruit including Bing cherries, local strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, bananas, and peaches, all uncut (“fruit should not be under or over ripe”). Finally, they need one sharp knife (“long enough to cut the fruit).

When Joe Cocker performs, he wants his dressing room stocked with four bottles of Gatorade (“lemon-lime”), four liters of Evian and a cooler with eight bottles of Corona beer “to be iced at 6:00 p.m., re-iced at 8:00 p.m. and again at 10:45 p.m.” (or, his contract notes, during “With A Little Help From My Friends”). Cooler boxes on stage right, left and center-stage need to contain six-packs of Becks or Heineken beer, as well as Diet Sprites and more Gatorades. Finally, “One serving of traditional Shepherd’s Pie, with a side of baked beans, will be required each show night after the performance.”

Back when James Brown was still putting on shows, he wanted to arrive in a current-year model limousine which is “black or white, 186 inches long.” His dressing room needs included two full-length mirrors as well as “makeup mirrors with lights.” A “professional press or cleaning service” had to be available to prepare band uniforms, while “band members and vocalists must stay in a four-star hotel separate from the dancers.”

Finally, “There MUST be an oxygen tank and mask on stage at all times.”

In order for Sineade O’Connor to perform, the venue has to purchase public liability insurance of one million pounds (“or its local equivalent’) and agree that “no photograph of the Artiste shall be used in advertising without prior written approval of the Artiste.” Her dressing room should include one quart each of apple juice (“no added preservatives”), milk (“not Half & Half”) and orange juice (“freshly squeezed”), three quarts of Evian and two bottles of “good quality” Champagne (“Moet et Chandon”). She also wants some raw ginger root (“about two hands worth”), forty Marlboro Lights and an on-duty masseur, with the latter perk “to be paid for by artist.”

When The Neville Brothers play, backstage requirements include a 12-pack of Coke, a six-pack of Dr. Pepper, ten bottles of Evian, sixteen bottles of Perrier, a half gallon of whole milk (“as cold as possible”), some green tea (“no caffine [sp]”) and a “large bag or box of any sort of healthy snack (surprise us!).”

When Poison comes to play, they want their dressing room stocked with six-packs of Dr. Pepper and 7UP, a loaf of bread (“white”), peanut butter and jelly, three boxes of Nutri-Grain bars (two strawberry, one blueberry), and a twelve pack each of Heineken and Coronas. Tour busses need a bag of tortilla chips, a case of beer (“premium”), two pounds of grated sharp cheddar cheese (“in a resealable bag”), and a dozen bottles or cans of chocolate Yoo-hoo drink. Regarding fire safety, they want four fire extinguishers onstage, though they must be CO2-style because “powder, water, or foaming extinguishers…may cause serious damage to equipment.”

When Al Green is ready to croon, he’s willing to forgo a limo for a late model “Mercedes-type” luxury sedan. He expects his hotel room to be a two corner suite on a high floor in a “four or five star quality” inn (“television in rooms”). Green gets 25 free tickets “in the center section, first five rows” and he wants a security guard in charge of preventing “any person or persons from making any unauthorized audio or video recordings or merchandising during the performance.” His dressing room needs a six-pack of Coke (“cold”), a bottle of white wine and wine glasses with a corkscrew. Alongside the stage, he wants four 32-ounce bottles of Gatorade (“any flavor”) and a bar stool.

When the Beach Boys stop suing each other long enough for some concerts, their backstage munchies should include 25 boiled and peeled shrimp (“high quality”), a bowl of white Pistachio nuts (“no red), a half-pound bag of Peanut M&Ms, an “organic vegetable platter to include but not limited to carrots, celery, cucumbers, tomatoes, broccoli and cauliflower with one dip,” along with a package of alfalfa sprouts, sliced avocado, a fruit tray and a jumbo pack of Freedent Spearmint gum. They also want a carton of Marlboro Lights in a soft pack (“not 100s, not in a box”), noting “This is an essential item.” They’d like to see recycling bins for aluminum, glass and paper and they don’t want any Styrofoam cups being used backstage (“The Beach Boys and the planet thank you”).

When Journey plays, the band lounge requires two quarts of Martinelli’s apple juice, two six-packs of Stewart’s Orange Cream Premium Soda, a half gallon of orange juice (“fresh squeezed”), a case of Classic Coke (“in cans”), and 36 bottles of room temperature spring water (“no Evian”). The band bus must be stocked with a case each of Coke, Diet Coke, Dr. Pepper, Pepsi, and assorted Snapple drinks.

Before the Goo Goo Dolls play, they want their dressing room stocked with eight bottles of Starbucks Frappuccino or Nestle cappuccino (“four plain coffee, four vanilla”), a large bowl of Hummus and pita bread, two bottles of red wine (“good quality”), a twelve-pack each of Budweiser and Heineken (“no Ice or Lite”), a one-pound package of Mr. Turkey (“fresh”), four bars of “freshly wrapped” soap (“Safeguard or Ivory”), and six new pairs of tube socks (“white”).

When the Game appears on stage, he expects 20 free tickets “within the first 15 rows” and his hotel “must be rated a minimum of four stars…absolutely no motels!” The backstage hospitality room requires chicken wings and chicken fingers (“100 pieces”), assorted candy (“Jolly Ranchers, Snickers, Kit Kats”), a case of quart-sized bottled water (“no Dasani”), a bottle of Belvedere vodka, two liters of Hennessy cognac, and four “large bottles” of Hypnotiq.

When LeAnn Rimes performs, her dressing room requirements include a vegetable and fruit tray (“with bananas”), two quarts each of apple, orange, grape, pineapple, and cranberry juices, a six-pack each of Coke and Sprite, and a small bowl of fresh tuna (“solid white…please keep chilled”).

When Ice Cube appears, his dressing room requires a CD player (“with power cord”), five table lamps (“with red bulbs”) and a dozen towels (“clean, pre-washed”). He expects the backstage hospitality room stocked with two large pizzas (“cheese only”), a deli tray (“no pork or ham”), a large bucket of mixed Kentucky Fried Chicken (“original and crispy”), 36 KFC hot wings and a “basket [of] assorted good chocolate bars.” In addition, he requires twelve beers (“Corona, Rolling Rock”), a fifth of Hennessey, six packs of chewing gum (“Big Red or Spearmint”), four lighters (“Bic”) and a copy of USA Today

When Eric Clapton appears, his dressing room requirements include two bottles of orange juice (“fresh squeezed”), six bottles of Gatorade (“lime”), twenty-four cans of Coke (“classic”), forty-eight bottles of beer (“Corona”) and four bottles of wine (“two red, two medium white”). He also wants a tray of cold cuts, a cheese board, a large fruit bowl, a “selection of M&Ms and assorted chocolate,” ajar of honey and a hot tea setup with Earl Grey and English Breakfast tea (“served in china cups”).

When Christina Aguilera appears, her dressing room requires an assortment of Power Bars, Cliff Bars and Balance Bars, a half-pint of fat free small curd cottage cheese (“Knudsen or Clover only”) and a platter of “assorted gums and mints.” Drinks; a six-pack of Coke (“not Pepsi”), a liter of “full fat” vanilla soy milk (“must not contain Canola oil, barley, oats or malt of any kind”) and four packs of Carnation Instant Breakfast (“original malt”). In addition, she wants a container of Nesquik (“chocolate”), a package of Soya Kaas soy cheese, a bottle of Echinacea capsules and a bottle of Flintstones vitamins (“with extra vitamin C”).

When Everclear is on the bill, expected dressing room provisions include a veggie tray with dips and humus, a fruit tray (“oranges, bananas, strawberries, kiwi, cut watermelon, cut pineapple”), a large bag of nacho cheese chips (“Doritos”), 48 bottles of non-carbonated spring water (“half iced, half room temperature”) and a 12-pack of ginger ale (“very important”). The band bus requires a bag of Thomas’ English muffins, assorted bite size candies (“Snickers, 3 Musketeers, Cadbury”), a liter of Soya milk (“sweetened”), a jar of Jif peanut butter (“crunchy”), a box of Nutri-Grain cereal (“no sugar”), a quart of Tropicana orange juice (“not from concentrate”) and a large bag of Tostitos tortilla chips (“with fat!”).

HE REMOVES THE BROWN M&MS – BACKSTAGE DIPLOMAT

Brian Lewis didn’t hire the entertainment while serving as venue manager for Humphrey’s bar and concert showcase on Shelter Island. However, he feels the experience he gained there from 1990 to 1992 prepared him for booking and marketing jobs at several pivotal San Diego venues, including Mission Beach’s Catamaran resort hotel where he ran their Cannibal Bar.

“I liked the backstage responsibilities [at Humphrey’s] best of all because of the interaction…I’ve been a big music fan since I first saw the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show.”

“Humphrey’s was doing about fifty concerts a year, sometimes two shows on the same night. My job was making sure the performers were satisfied when they got there, setting up the backstage catering and fulfilling all the requirements passed on by the production manager. Or [I worked] from a list written into the ‘rider,’ [which is] part of the performer’s contract.”

Early on, he worried about being starstruck, but working closely with the venue’s famous guests wasn’t as intimidating – or as disillusioning – as he’d feared. “The type of acts at Humphrey’s aren’t usually known for bad behavior. Most…found the place so comfortable, they’d just relax and be regular people, their everyday selves. I didn’t recognize him at first [but] Huey Lewis was talking to me in the hospitality suite while we watched Clinton lying through his teeth on TV. Dana Carvey would come into the inside stage and just chat with everybody. George Benson will hang out at the pool bar and drink Mai Tais and then come inside and say ‘hi’ to people.”

He feels that most performers, especially A-list draws with the most to lose, don’t want any trouble due to the media’s willingness to tear them apart. “It’s usually in the audience where you find people with the biggest problems. The funny thing is we can have Michael McDonald and everyone’s dancing in the aisles and drinking like fish and nothing happens. Then Tony Bennett comes in…and we had trouble with this older woman acting up.” He says the woman was drunk and shouting, upsetting nearby patrons. “We had to kick her out and put her into a cab, and she was fighting the whole way.”

Growing up in Point Loma, the diverse tastes of his six older siblings exposed him to a wide array of songs and performers, but Lewis’ early career goals had little to do with musicians, nightclubs and Bennett-crazed inebriates. “I studied business in college, worked for the Spagetti Factory chain and at one point I was taking maitre de jobs and planning a career in food service.”

Twenty-seven years old in 1985, Lewis replied to a want ad by mailing his resume to a blank PO box. “I thought I was applying for a fine dining job…it turned out to be Diego’s on Garnet (Avenue, in Pacific Beach). I’d been there maybe once or twice with a friend but Diego’s liked me, liked my ideas and they said they wanted to hire me for a management position, with a generous salary.”

The offer caught him by surprise. “I think [I was hired] because I was creative and artistic, and that helps in designing ads and promotions. I was always interested in how things were sold. [I] even studied magazine ads, billboards and TV commercials.”

Humphrey’s

His new career allowed him to put his flair for design into new menus, a kitchen layout, newspaper advertisements and event promotions. “The weekends would be so busy that we’d need the weekdays to lick our wounds and recover in time for the next weekend. We did about five mil[lion dollars] that year…the dollar margaritas special was going on and we’d have lines around the building.” Diego’s and other nightclubs hoping to attract new patrons operated “in the spirit of friendly competition, whereas today it’s more of a battlefield.”

“There was Wrangler’s Roost in El Cajon for country [and] contemporary rock at Park Place, which is now a bowling alley. Our only real competition was Confetti’s in Mission Valley. They had a thing called Club Piranha, adult alternative music…I did a parody of [their] event and called ours ‘Club Mean Fish.’ The ads had a giant big mouth bass swallowing a piranha.” Asked about his proudest accomplishment during the two years he worked at Diego’s, he replies “I guess [it was] making the place busy every night. I brought in KGB on Sundays, on Mondays we had $1.50 Name That Drink, 91x had their own night…the crowds came by having radio stations sponsoring [events].”

A partnership in a Mexican restaurant drew him briefly to Washington state, but he soon returned to San Diego to take a job as marketing and promotions director for a new club then dubbed Belmont At The Beach (later the Hop, then Chillers and currently ‘Cane’s). “I went head to head with my former employers at Diego’s. Their biggest thing was the Tuesday Dollar Margarita night and so on the same night I had 91X at Belmont with ninety-one cent drinks. Bikini contests had started there and I brought that over to Belmont…we just kind of buried them.”

Belmont Park

However, Belmont never developed as he’d planned. “There were so many operational problems. We opened without a liquor license while we waited on it from the ABC so it was hard to compete with other bars. Plus, the dynamics of the beach area are low priced meals and we were serving expensive dinners. And from the get-go, there were protests about the whole Belmont Park development, on the liquor license, on the roller coaster being rebuilt…they [the residents] didn’t want the noise, didn’t want the traffic, didn’t want the natural things that happen when you develop and improve [an area]. The biggest problem was that the place was owned by a limited partnership of forty people. I put in a lot of blood and sweat but it didn’t end up working out.” He quit in early 1990 and the club was closed by summer.

“I ended up taking a position at Humphrey’s, in charge of entertainment and management for the inside bar and venue management for the outdoor theater.” The outdoor theater presented noise problems, though not from the music being too loud. “At some of the quieter and more intimate shows, we’d have people in the audience talking too loud, drowning out the music. We’d try talking to them about it at first and if they continued to cause a problem we’d have to remove them.”

He inked the next credit on his resume in 1992, when he took a marketing position at the Barefoot Bar, in the Princess Resort on Mission Bay. “Every Saturday and Sunday, we had a band called Doctor Chico’s Island Sounds…then their lead singer got arrested and went to jail for being a PB rapist! The group had gotten really popular and only one of the seven guys was a criminal so I met with them and talked them into staying together.” Lewis came up with a new name, the Banana Republicans, and the band remained a staple at the club for several more years.

He feels his marketing strategies for the club made it very profitable. “We did things like making footwear optional and you could even wear a bikini in the bar. There’d be a line for two hours to get in and we got to a business level where we did a hundred thousand dollars in one day. The previous year before I came in, I think they did less than a half million dollars in business. By the end of my first year there, we were doing two million."

As to whether he received percentages or bonuses from the increased profits, Lewis replies “Let’s just say I quit in 1994.”

After taking some time off to try his hand at consulting work and fatherhood, he accepted an offer to work for Humphrey’s once again. “When the Rolling Stones played the stadium, we did a promotion called ‘Gimme Shelter Island.’ We rented three double-decker buses and had two hundred and twenty tickets for the show. [We] offered a package deal for $150.00 that included a commemorative T-shirt, a three course dinner, beverages and a tribute band called Sticky Fingers played a three hour show in the [Humphrey’s] bar. Then we put everyone on the bus and all of us went to see the Stones with Carlos Santana.”

In early 1999, the General Manager of Paradise Point, which had formerly been The Princess Resort, made what Lewis calls an offer he couldn’t refuse, if he’d return to work at the Barefoot Bar, a position he accepted and kept for nearly two years. “We almost doubled our previous numbers for the best day [income]. But at the same time, they were changing format and going through an entire renovation. The [marketing] I worked at didn’t match what the new owners wanted. They were catering to people willing to pay top dollar for the rooms. They didn’t want music festivals or theme nights, which is fine, that was their decision, but it kind of eliminates what I do for a living.” He walked away from Barefoot in August 2000.

The Catamaran, home of the Cannibal Bar

Lewis’ next position was booking the Cannibal Bar in PB, bringing in top-flight acts like former Animals leader Eric Burdon and Kinks guitarist Dave Davies, as well as Hootie and the Blowfish, Dave Mason and The Psychedelic Furs.

“There’s a lot more competition nowadays,” says Lewis. “You have the Indian casinos, there’s Cox Arena. Humphrey’s ties up eighty-five to a hundred performers a year. Viejas is up and coming...when all the other clubs are bidding against each other to pull in a touring act that can only do one night and one venue in San Diego, I have to get pretty creative to come out on top. But I like being creative. And I definitely like being on top.”

BACKSTAGE RAIDER – HE MOOCHES MEALS FROM ROCK STARS

“When Axl Rose found out I ate his sub sandwich, he was ready to kill someone,” says “Tweeter Donruss” (not his real name, ‘natch). He’s recalling for me one backstage party among the hundred or so he claims to have crashed.

“I snuck out of there before anyone told him it was me! But that was a royal chow line, man - shrimp, crab legs, this sweet juice they served in metal cups, damn.”

He says Gn’R’s after-show buffet was spread in an open tent where everyone mingled, including friends of the band, roadies, select young ladies plucked from the audience and at least one local jazz fan who hates rock and roll but who loves to mooch free food.

“I walk up all cocky like a hotshot roadie,” explains Donruss. “I wait until the show was over to sneak [backstage], so the guards would be busy dealing with groupies and DJs and stuff. My coat has a lot of flaps and [guards] get this illusion of a pass flapping around. If I act official enough, they don’t even blink and I can go wherever.”

Where he usually wants to go is wherever the food is.

Donruss says he used to live on the streets, where he hated getting into lines for free meals at local churches and shelters. “If you’re not there right on time, they tell you to get lost, and the food’s not worth standing around. Except Thanksgiving and Christmas...they pick up guys off the street and drive us to a movie theater or a church and totally stuff us.”

Donruss can’t stand rock music (“Give me Miles Davis any day”) and he doesn’t always know anything by or about some of the rockers he’s rubbed shoulders with…

…but he does know that anyone playing the Sports Arena, Coors Amphitheatre or Cox Arena will probably hire the best caterers and lay out the most free food and booze.

“My last actual job was L.A., doing phone collections. I lost it for being late so much and then I lost my place. But the streets were okay. There’s a lot more safe places to sleep up there but finding enough [food] to ‘nack on was tough.”

He says one time he just happened to be by Universal Amphitheatre, as a show was letting out. “I just walked in ‘cause the doors were open. I found so much good sh-t on the floor and under the seats, I was in heaven! Not just snackbar food, but stuff people snuck in...wine flasks, weed, pipes!”

Outdoor events are particularly lax about manning the gates during the closing hour or so. “They let you bring in picnic baskets and bottles! It’s incredible what people leave. Untouched sub sandwiches, barrels - not buckets - of fast food chicken, and a sh-tload of diet sodas and water.”

Donruss chose San Diego as his new home turf in 1992, after using the free bus ticket given by a family member who wanted him to visit his La Mesa home.

Though he found what he called “makesh-t ways to earn cash,” he still found himself often low on cash and big on hunger.

“I really like flying below the radar and not having to keep someone else’s schedule,” he says.

“I’m not a drunk, I’m not a bum but I’ll do almost any drug any time if it’s free or cheap and, yeah, I am pretty d-mned lazy.”

For awhile, he earned money by collecting aluminum cans and recyclable bottles. “I turned [them] in for cash at a place near Imperial [Avenue]. My hideout was right up the street, in some thick bushes on private property, along a fence behind a house, so I didn’t have to worry about the city coming to cut sh-t down and chase me out or trash my sh-t. That’s what they do when they find out someone is living there.” He doesn’t say whether the private property owner knew or approved of his residency.

He set about visiting concert halls and clubs along the bus routes. Seemingly – to my mind, anyway – putting more effort into mooching than many put into their actual jobs.

Donruss says he found easy trespass at most local venues, but few lunchable leftovers. “Getting in is easy near the end of the night. But there’s not much in the seats. I used to find lots of food at Humphreys, but [patrons] have to buy it there and it’s always the same old, same old. All the medium size places suck.”

Bathrooms, he says, are a treasure trove of illicit drugs, dropped wallets (“I keep the cash but I’ll put the wallet in a mail box”), lighters, liquor flasks and loose money. “Guys sit on the pot and get high , maybe ‘cause they don’t wanna share, or they’re with someone who’s not into it. And stuff drops out of their pants, especially if they’re f-cked up.”

“I find twenties once in awhile, but usually it’s fives and tens. Sometimes they’re a little, uh, wet, but that’s okay. I might dry them with the hand dryer.”

Scouring the seats after a concert nowadays, tho, is a competitive effort.

“There’s a bunch of kids doing the same thing, a lot of the same ones at each show. It gets so we’re all running through the rows looking down between the seats trying to be the first one to score something good. The smart ones start at the top seats, so security can’t see you and herd you out the door. Up where it’s dark is where people do their drugs anyway, that’s where stuff’s more likely gonna drop.”

Donruss’ first trip backstage happened by accident, when he was mistaken for a roadie at Jack Murphy Stadium concert. “I was near the side of the stage and some guy just handed me a piece of equipment and told me to take it back to the break room. I didn’t know what I was holding, and I had no idea what or where the break room was, but I went off like I’ve been doing that all my life.”

Backstage, between the aluminum tentpoles holding up a vinyl tarp and piled onto several rows of cloth covered folding tables, he found what he describes with a laugh as “the pot at the end of the rainbow, or the pot roast anyways!”

Caterers were just finishing the gourmet display of meats, fish and decadent deserts, including many dishes Donruss had never seen or sampled. “Have you ever had truffles? I wasn’t impressed. Didn’t eat the caviar, I know what it is. Mousse, that’s pretty good, and this stuff had like a crust on top and came with a cookie on the side.”

He says nobody under the tarp was touching the food --- it was obvious the lavish spread was intended only for the band and their guests.

After talking to him, and picking up on his hungry-outlaw vibe, I can just picture him eyeing the buffet and trying to remain inconspicuous, breathing in all the tempting aromas and struggling to hold himself back from that chimerical “pot roast at the end of the rainbow.”

He snuck a few chips into the dip bowl and managed to grab an errant sandwich when he thought nobody was looking (“I chewed quietly”), earning glares from at least one other bystander. What must have been a maddening half-hour passed before the twenty or so people milling around seemed to decide that the band wasn’t coming any time soon, if at all.

On some apparently unspoken cue, everyone converged on the buffet tables all at once, including - especially - Donruss.

“I had three plates and two glasses, like a waiter, and I filled ‘em all up!”

After eating fast and gulping down five or six beers (“I didn’t know until later it was ‘near-beer,’ no alcohol”), Donruss loosened his pants and walked out via the same checkpoint he’d entered, leaving the stadium very happy, and VERY full. “I went whole hog that time, for sure!”

He’s reluctant to talk further about dates, venues and methods, and at this point we’ve already talked on the phone for almost 90 minutes. “What I told you is enough to make it interesting, I don’t wanna shoot myself in the foot.”

He’s still doing “makesh-t jobs” around town, but he says he’s living in a house with family members, paying his own bills, and generally doing well.

All ‘pending one’s definition of “well,” I think to myself, but I don’t say this to “Tweeter” (which, by the way, was the AKA he requested to go by when I said I wanted to write about his many Missions of Mooch).

“I only crash a couple of concerts a month now,” he says, “sometimes not even. Everyone wants to get backstage, to be close to the band guys. I just wanna get my hands on the food.”

There’s a pause, as we both probably conclude that last sentence was more than self-evident.

“I hate competing with groupies and all that sh-t. Besides, all the big rockers are going vegetarian, or they don’t f-cking drink or party, so it’s like a church picnic back there.”

“Either that, or they’re too f-cking cheap to lay out a good spread for the rest of us.”

NEW LOCAL MUSICIAN RESOURCE

On his website GigSanDiego.com, local drummer Bill Ray explains “Gig San Diego was created by professional musicians, for professional musicians. It is (currently) an open-registration format that caters to the musician who actively plays gigs in and around SD. The site is independently administered and is not to be held responsible for any bad information gleaned from the annals of our forums. We recommend you keep a firm grip on the realities of any situation; unlike McDonalds, who pay millions for a spilled cup of coffee in the lap, all we have is some pocket lint for your lawyers.”

The site includes a venue directory, local music MP3s, gig announcements, and classified ads, as well as useful information like directions, gas prices, and bulletins on stolen equipment to keep an eye out for. Message board topics include music stores and instrument repair, local recording studios, road recommendations and rideshares, lessons, jam sessions, and more.

In one of the site’s most informative AND entertaining sections, Ray posts load-in tips for various venues around town. Below are some excerpts:

Patrick’s II downtown: “Parking sucks…use the alley on the left side of the building, unload your stuff, then go park. I like to park at 7th and E in the Parkade, $5 weeknights, $10 weekends…backline not provided.”

Pala Casino: “You don't need to bring amps because it's a canned scene, as in everything is headphone mixed [and] run through the board live…I recommend bringing your own headphones, because the house ones might just be covered in sweat.”

Hotel Del Coronado, back patio: “Architects back then must have drank a lot, because the place just sprawls…find the delivery area, unload, park. Drag your stuff through the corridors [and] you will eventually come out in the guest area. Trek it through that hallway and out the doors.”

Humphrey’s Backstage Lounge: “Pull up in the handicap slot at the west end of the building…large cases will have to be stowed in the car or in their shed.”

Viejas V Lounge: “You end up cutting through the casino. Backline not provided…beware, do not open your laptop out there. They always blow a gasket!”

Dick’s Last Resort, downtown: “Watch out for projectiles.”

Victoria Rose posts of the Lucky Star Restaurant, on 54th Street, “They frequently forget to unlock the gate and have to be called…watch out for the first door that is heavy and ready to slam shut at a moment's notice. Use the supplied rock near the door to prop it open. I am not kidding!”

So how’s the money at various locales around town? What do they provide, and what do bands get paid??

“The bottom line is that the ultimate determination of whether a show is a success or a failure at the Beauty Bar is what the bar total is,” blogs Scott Pactor, who manages Fifty on their Heels. “Low bar total equals failure; high bar total equals success.” He offers advice on how bands can increase bar totals and land repeat gigs. “The success of the bar ultimately rests on the size of the guest list. This hurts the promoters, but benefits the bar, and the Beauty Bar will cut you if your bar total is low…so the comp list [for a July show] was close to 100. So, that's like $500 that the bands lose [in cover charges], but an additional $1500 or whatever for the bar [in drink sales], so what are you going to do? Cultivate the guest list. Expand the guest list…do you think I care whether I collect the cover? Get in there and drink.”

As of last summer, Patrick's II in the Gaslamp Quarter was reportedly paying bands $350 on weekday evenings – when there’s usually no cover - and $450 on weekends, when admission averages $5. While this is better than playing for a bar tab, as bands report happening at the Zombie Lounge, the Ken Club, and Scolari’s, Pactor warns that some expenses may not be written into the booking contract. “At the Rhythm Lounge, you have to pay the door guy $50.”

The Epicentre requires bands to do an initial pre-sale of 32 tickets minimum. Opening bands are expected to draw 32 to 50 people, for which they’re paid $1 a head. Supporting acts in the middle of the bill need to bring in 50 to 95 people, which earns them $1.75 per head. Local headliners are expected to draw 96 or more people, to be paid $2.50 per head. Multiband local showcases are structured to pay $1 per head for the first 50 tickets sold, and $2 per head for 51 or more.

“At some venues, bands actually have to pay to play or are paid with a bar tab,” says singer/songwriter Molly Wilmot. “I love to sing, I love to perform, but how am I supposed to feed myself and my family?"

Last month, M One Studios placed ads in the San Diego section of craigslist.com, stating “The cruise ship industry can be very lucrative for musicians…play with several big-name acts and musicians from around the world on a nightly basis.” The company offers four to six month contracts, promising “All lodging, food, and transportation is provided…work one to three hours daily, with some days off completely.”

The compensation quoted is $1,800 to $2,200 (Per set? Per day? Per contract?), with the caveat “Elvis impersonators, please do not reply to this posting.”

THE (NEWEST) RETURN OF JUDAS PRIEST – MY PREDICTION

Judas Priest is putting the finishing touches on their double-album rock opera, “Nostradamus.”

=sigh=

Will I ever tell the grandkids about how I – along with a hundred like-minded miscreants - once crashed the gates of a Judas Priest concert at SDSU’s Outdoor Amphitheatre? Inebriated and ticketless, one and all, most of us got into the venue, tho it was awhile before SDSU brought any more metal acts to their stage.

Is this to be filed under “proud rebellion” or “embarrassing fiasco” in my musical memory bank?

Back then, you couldn’t hawk a loogie without hitting someone in a black Priest T-shirt. To a kid just discovering the camaraderie of shared noise and the aphrodisiac effect that leather jackets have on girls with big hair and tiny skirts, Judas Priest were our metal Buddhas. It didn’t matter that they had to put colored stickers on their guitars so they’d know how to play the notes. They rode Harleys on-stage, and they could even take a lame Joan Baez song like “Diamonds And Rust” and blow it up into the goofiest heavy metal dirge this side of Spinal Tap’s “Big Bottom.”

Not even the mighty Tap could drive teenagers to Satanism and suicide with subliminal lyrics, as Priest were once accused of doing (the band actually had to defend themselves in court).

But ah, my foes, and ah, my friends, back in their heyday, this British quintet once rocked the world.

Okay, a lot of us suspected something might be up with lead singer Rob Halford, all dolled up in his leather studs, his cute little fetish belt, and that ersatz biker hat. He dressed like the lipstick kids from every Frankie Goes to Hollywood video.

So I wasn’t surprised when he came out of the closet. I still kept up with his post-Priest projects. I was really into his band Fight, despite the mocking I got (and still sometimes get) from friends who’d once shared my love of all things Priest.

A lot of those fans dropped by the wayside after Halford came out. Metalheads who worshipped Rob and dressed just like him, all the while thinking that they were the epitome of macho heterosexual studness, did they somehow feel betrayed?

Are they happier now that he dresses more like Rip Taylor raiding Elton John’s closet?

I talked a couple of those people who renounced and reneged on all things Priest. They shake their heads and look down when they speak Halford’s name, looking for all the world like the guy on Jerry Springer who’s just been told his wife wants a sex change.

Priest’s peak year was probably 1984, with the release of Screaming For Vengeance, a million seller for the band. Then came the slide into oblivion, which even the most devotional fan would have to acknowledge or be labeled delusional - Defenders Of The Faith (uggh), Turbo (eech), and Live (retchspew).

Still, few po’ white boys like me can resist pumping their fists to classic cuts like “The Ripper,” “Tyrant,” “Stained Class,” and “Living After Midnight.” Even had I known all along about Rob, I doubt I would have lost sleep worrying about what he was or wasn’t pumping backstage with his own fist.

Priest concerts were hard rock summit meetings like no other. 20,000 angry, disaffected and slightly drunk teenagers all gathered together to pay tribute to sonic gods. The Ram It Down tour was sublime metal heaven. Even the stage set was designed to look like a steel mill, with gurgling vats of molten metal and clanging wheels and cogs everywhere. And, hey, seriously, is there any better music to ball to?

But all great bands must end (listen up, Mick ‘n Keith). As things went downhill, Rob quit Priest in ‘93 to form Fight.

Guitarist Glenn Tipton didn’t waste words describing the split. “It wasn’t a shock initially that Rob wanted to do a solo project,” he told me in an interview for Soundwaves Magazine. “He got our blessing to go ahead and do it. But it quickly escalated on the managerial side and eventually Rob expressed that he didn’t want to continue with Bill Curbishley, who’d been our long-standing manager and a friend of the band. I’ve got the greatest respect for Bill, so once that started it was never easy to reconcile the situation.”

Legal battles ensued, between Rob, Columbia Records and management, and eventually the burning flame flickered into darkness. “It’s a very sad thing,” said Tipton, “that Rob’s search for a solo career - and everybody’s free to do what they want in this band - has deprived kids of Priest as it was. It’s sad, but that’s life, and far be it from me to say it’s a wrong decision.”

It’s worth noting that Tipton characterized the group’s fans as “kids”...it is, after all, entry level music. Rudimentary rock. Lots of thumping and humping and crude poses self-consciously designed to appeal to libidinous teenagers. But that’s why we loved them, isn’t it?

No doubt inspired by the success of fellow comeback cartoons Kiss, Judas Priest wants to turn it up to eleven just one more time, presumably before shuffling off for the tar pits. Sher, senior citizens can make with the metal. But I have my doubts ….

Does the world really need – or even want - a lengthy, ambitiously staged “rock opera,” about Nostradamus, from ANY metal band, even – especially – Judas Priest.

I fear that there may not be enough Priest fans left in the world to storm a concert at SDSU any more. I fear that Priest has returned, not with a bang but with a whisper. I fear that the dream is over, our revels now are ended, and all that’s left is to be embarrassed at what’s become of metal’s once reigning gods.

And I thought the Kiss “reunions,” with anonymous young guys wearing Peter and Ace makeup, was the ultimate betrayal of all things rock.

Oh, well. At least AC/DC can still rock our world, and are about to once again….. (Please, Angus, I’m beggin’ ya --- DON’T come out of the closet!)