Category Archives: Music

http://uniqueglassfiles.com.au/good-informative-essay-topics/

It is finally over — the year that took so much away from us in such a big swipe.

The year of course is 2016, “a year that will live in infamy,” if you will allow me to paraphrase FDR.

It was a year filled with losses of the famous and talented. There are so many to count and in so many fields of entertainment and arts.

But there are three that stand out as the awful trifecta that death dealt us in this wretched year: two performers whose names are immortalized with a single name, Bowie and Prince, and George Michael.

Sadly these three titans of music died in the same year. Many of us loved their collection of work and mourned the loss of so much music that never became.

As I ready myself to say a very well-deserved good-bye and fuck you to 2016, I take a moment to enjoy a YouTube feast with some of their most celebrated songs and performances.

Every fan has their favorites. And it would be wrong for me to praise one over the other.

But in my heart I carry the joy of watching and listening to George Michael’s http://coolbars.com/” David Bowie’s blog here and Prince’s Super Bowl halftime show that included “Let’s Go Crazy” and “Purple Rain.”

I know there are so many songs that each of these artists performed that are immortalized in video and accessible online.

But these songs and performances are the ones I hold in my mind’s eye any time their name is mentioned. I turn to these to relive a glorious time in my youth when I felt invincible and indestructible.

2016 proves that life is fragile and must be treasured because in an instant, and over an ill-fated year, it can be snuffed out indiscriminately.

I look forward to 2017, optimistically and hopefully, remembering the words, “You gotta have faith,” and “I’m still standing in the wind. But I never wave bye-bye,” and “You better live now before the grim reaper comes knocking on your door.”

Come on everyone, Let’s go Crazy!!

How I Survived My Daughter’s First Concert (and Mosh Pit)

My daughter turned 20 today.

So many feelings and memories surround the writing of that sentence.

I had to stop a second because my eyes started sweating a little.

FamPho154

I have many wonderful thoughts of being able to be that larger-than-life presence in her life. I was, and still am, the daddy.

Although my role as protector has evolved as the years have passed, I recall a particular event where I almost had to go full pit bull as her guardian.

My daughter had turned 14 and was developing her own taste in music.

Of course, as parents we went full bore on all the sappy Disnified music and songs from when she was just a wee girl.

But now she had reached teenagerdom, and the cutesy posters in her room were slowly being replaced with celebrity posters and music idols.

With her birthday approaching, my daughter asked for tickets to see the band We The Kings, who were going to be playing at the House of Blues in Orlando.

I agreed to get the tickets but she could not go alone and I would not simply drop her off — not yet. Not at 14. Not my little girl.

So we had a date night. I was going with her. We headed off.

D&M Now

I decided to eat at the House of Blues. It was a nice outing. We had burgers and talked.

She answered my questions about who these guys we were about to see, where they came from, their style of music, were they cute, etc.

My daughter obliged me my silly daddy questions.

She then informed me that the main band would play after four opening acts.

FOUR!?!? I thought. This is gonna be torture.

I had no idea.

Having patronized the House of Blues restaurant, we were given early-entry passes to the show.

We could pile in before the rest of the Kingers or Kingheads, or whatever they called themselves, could gain access to the hallowed halls of Blues.

We walked and there were only enough people standing to fill about three rows.

Uh-oh. No seats.

I had forgotten that this was a general admission event and there would be no seats. My first alarm went off, but I used to go to heavy metal concerts at small and large venues.

“I got this!” I figured.

As the rest of the patrons started to stroll in, I noticed a few things.

First, I was the oldest thing there. I was even older than the building I was in.

Second, everyone looked at me as if I were a narc.

Third, I was crowding in on my daughter’s first musical fan experience. So I quickly surveyed the room and found some steps that led up to a ledge only a few feet off the main floor where there was a bar.

I had no interest in drinking that night (hard to believe but true), only in the small nook with a railing that overlooked the floor.

I didn’t care about the view of the show, I just wanted to find a place where I could see Marina and I had found it.

silvio and daughter

I leaned over and told Marina where I would be. She nodded, still sporting this wonderful smile and soaking in this new experience.

I trotted up to my perch and stood watch like a medieval sentry through the first two bands.

They were local, unknown bands and they didn’t draw a large reception.

I could still see the curly mop of my happy daughter. And she would look up to my position and flash me a smile and return my thumbs-up each time.

I had forgotten from my concert-going days that true fans and followers pile in as the night gets longer.

And then they came.

By the middle of the third band, I started to see a wave forward and to the side of Marina’s head. The crowd was growing and moving as one large organic being.

My daughter was now in this sea of bodies.

I was starting to sweat.

The fourth band was obviously a favorite as the crowd moved violently in every direction.

I could see Marina still enjoying herself, swaying with the crowd, still pretty much in the same area I had left her when I noticed a new configuration.

A mosh pit was developing!

Oh God, no!!

My little girl was right in the area where the crowd was parting to allow this abomination to take shape.

She was right along the edge of this pit. And I remembered, again from my metal days, what could happen to those unsuspecting individuals around the edge of a pit.

While I scanned, searching for curly hair, I saw him enter the circle: an experienced mosher, all 7-foot-9 of him.

He was a perfect sculpted specimen.

I know because he pulled his shirt off, threw it over his shoulder and proceeded to mosh, throwing arms and fists in every direction.

My eyes were focused on this monstrosity and willing that he not come anywhere near Marina.

I knew in that moment that if this man-child of Greek-proportioned musculature and probably 2 percent body fat came anywhere near my daughter that my 5-foot-10, soft-bodied dad self would fly down in a heartbeat to kill him.

I even saw it played out in my head: Me swooping down and beating this pseudo -Adonis to death with his own leg that I had just ripped off of him.

I didn’t have to though. He stayed at the other outer edge, making contact with more than one bystander. I looked over to the safe edge and scanned for curly hair.

I didn’t see any.

I lost her!

I know I must have displayed that on my face because I felt a hand  over my mine, which was death-gripping the metal rail.

I looked up and saw what was definitely a mom.

She looked right at me and said, “Did you lose your daughter in there?”

Holy crap. She knew.

Yes, I nodded vigorously.

She told me to calm down and that she would be OK. I didn’t believe her but I did settle down and refocused.

I scanned closer to the stage and there she was, almost at the stage level with a great view of the show and away from that idiot in the pit.

I breathed again and mouthed “thank you” to that mom.

The last opening act left and the lights came up a bit more as we waited for the main act.

Marina turned around and had an easier time of spotting me. She flashed a wide smile and a thumbs up.

I actually got to watch the main act and enjoyed the show.

After the show ended, I managed to get back to my little girl, who was beaming.

I hugged her, more for my benefit, and then we left.

I asked her how she enjoyed it, and the words came out at teenage speed.

On the trip home, she told me how she took advantage of the mosh pit forming and creating new space to get to a better location to enjoy the upcoming band.

And when the crowd surfers came by, she just ducked a bit to avoid them.

She took a glancing blow from some Keds sneaker but that was it.

She loved her first concert.

She thanked me and said she would never forget it.

Me too. And somehow, I survived it.

Read more blog posts at www.aboutmenradio.com and at http://aboutmenradio.net

Like us on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/AboutMenRadio and follow us on Twitter at https://twitter.com/aboutmenradio

Have a question or a comment? Write us at amr@aboutmenshow.com

Get Up or Die: Surviving a Trampling at a Rock Concert

The next thing I knew I was knocked down to the dirt and panic filled me…

This is what I felt in 1992 at the Lollapalooza music festival in Waterloo Village in Byram, N.J., as the headlining band The Red Hot Chili Peppers began their set.

I had been at the traveling music festival all day drinking crap beer and enjoying the music, which featured popular and upcoming alternative, metal, punk, rap and hip-hop bands.

A friend and I had skipped out of work for the day and we were having a great time until the Chili Peppers finally came on stage sporting helmets that spouted flames out of the tops of them and I heard the beginning drum beats to their rousing anthem “Give It Away.”

From those first beats, the whole crowd surged  toward the stage.

This took me by surprise as I was enthralled watching the band members with their flaming helmets, and I was shoved forward and knocked off balance.

Ten to 12 seconds into the song, I was driven to the ground on the field, my glasses flew off and people were tripping over me as they rushed the stage.

I was about to be trampled and I knew if I didn’t get my ass up quick, I could get killed.

“Shit! Where the fuck are my glasses?!” I thought, and quickly swept the ground with my hands.

Miraculously, I put my hands on them and I tried to get to my feet.

People kept pushing and stepping on me.

This is how people die at these things: They get knocked down and trampled to death while no one in the crowd stops to help.

I couldn’t let this happen.

I had been married for less than a year and had loads of stuff yet to do in my life.

I don’t think Anthony Kiedis had gotten through singing the first verse of the song and I was finally able to get a hold of myself and pushed myself up.

Thank the Lord I was able to stand up and finally get my balance.

My glasses were a bit mangled but I put them back on and I could see the band again.

Shit!

Of course now with the forward surge of the crowd, the mosh pit had expanded and now I was actually in it.

Time to retreat, take cover and save myself from getting killed.

I survived Lollapalooza 1992.

Now, every time I hear “Give It Away” I think of this time my life flashed before my eyes and I knew that I needed to get up or die.

Read more blog posts at www.aboutmenradio.com and at http://aboutmenradio.net

Like us on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/AboutMenRadio and follow us on Twitter at https://twitter.com/aboutmenradio

Have a question or a comment? Write us at amr@aboutmenshow.com