Monday, November 26, 2012

Good Deeds by Bad Seeds

This weekend I cruised down to the O.C. I had to take NYE flyers to the Tomorrows Bad Seeds crowd at the Observatory. TBS was headlining and I was stoked!

Every room was jam packed. The vibe was on point. I was super impressed with the performances by Simpkin Project, Fortunate Youth, and Seedless. They just keep getting better and better. So awesome. Love those guys! Jah!

But the true stars of the night were Tomorrows Bad Seeds. Not just for their high-energy/versatile set, wild light show, and dynamic stage presence....what set them apart, in my mind, was a tiny incident that happened pre-show....

I overheard a couple fans discussing the band lineup, and I couldn't help but listen. (I like to eavesdrop. People are interesting. Don't judge me.) But their conversation was pretty awesome:

One girl was telling the other of her epic struggle to get into the show that night. She had just enough money to buy a ticket, but forgot about the parking fee. She was stranded outside in the lot, in the herself. After calling nearly everyone she could think of, she finally dialed the lead singer of TBS, Moi.

And he dropped everything to go find her, walk her inside, and buy her a ticket.

Dang. That's decent.

Of all the people at that show, he was probably the busiest: getting pulled in a million different directions. Taking pictures, signing autographs, planning the set...He was headlining a fucking theater for crying out loud! But he took the time to trek out in the parking lot and help.

He didn't make a big deal out of it. I'm sure neither one of them knew it would end up in my stupid blog.

But it's the little things mean the most. And no matter what, you can never be too busy for a fan.

I am now even MORE proud that Saint Rocke chose TBS to headline our huge NYE show this year.

Not only are they amazing entertainers who know how to party, but they are down-to-earth and love their fans more than anything.

God bless em. Let's rage.

Love always,

KT Grab your tix now or miss our biggest event of the year.

2 words: OPEN. BAR.

Monday, November 19, 2012

Selling Out, or Cashing In?

I've been a Green Day fan since I was 11 years old, and I first heard "Basket Case" on 98 Rock.

I felt instantly connected to the band. They were a welcome distraction during my parents' divorce. They taught me it's okay to be different. To challenge authority. To be a rebel. To be misunderstood.

I bought every album, poster, button, sticker, and t shirt they made. I watched every interview, video, TV special...I wore safety pins all over and I became a devoted member of their fan club. (I still swear by the fact that they named the album, "Insomniac"because of a song I sent them. I have witnesses to prove it.)

They were in my Top Five Favorite Bands Of All Time. Without question. Undisputed.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday, I saw a commercial for the new Twilight movie, with a Green Day ballad on the sound track. I threw up in my mouth.

How could they stoop so low? How could they throw away a lifetime of street cred to become part of such pop culture bullshit? What's next? The cover of Teen Vogue?

 I wanted to cry for them. For their image. For punkrock in general.

Through the years, I've witnessed Green Day's upward mobility and defended them to the bitter end. When critics would bash their blatant commercialism, I'd always say the same thing: "It's not selling out, it's cashing in." Green Day paid their dues a long time ago. They've panhandled and played for peanuts. They've been beaten up outside of punk bars and always had the same "never give a flying fuck" attitude. So if the corporate sponsorships finally start rolling in, let it happen. They deserve it. Their families need a little security, too.

But where do you draw the line? When is enough, enough?

I had to stop myself from lighting my autographed picture on fire. Where was the band I used to know?

I sat in my apartment and listened to the old albums. The lyrics brought back all my teen angst and apathy, and I found myself pretty pissed off.

But suddenly, I wasn't sure if I was mad at them for being associated with something so "lame", or mad at myself for turning my back on my childhood heroes.

Amidst all my self loathing and wonderment, I had what could only be described as a "Eureka" moment.

   Green Day is successful because their target demographic will always be: 11 year olds.

It's those 11 year olds that keep the band alive. They're the ones buying CDs and band merchandise at the mall. (Not 30 somethings with rent and bills and problems). Those kids join the fan club and wear the t shirts and buttons. The 11 year olds memorize every word to every song. They connect with the band and the music at their core. Because at that age: music is your identity. Sometimes, music is your only friend.

If Green Day found a way to reach out to the 11 year old girls of today, the same way they did with the 11 year old girls of 1993, they should be applauded for their timeless efforts. Not accused of going soft.

That soundtrack song can't be described as punkrock, in any way, shape, or form. But it's catchy as fuck, and climbing the charts. (Well played, Billie Joe.)

They totally redeemed themselves and are back in my Top 5.

So what 3 important lessons did I learn from all of this?

1. 90's music is the best  (If you agree, VITALOGY and NEARVANA are here SAT NIGHT!!! Use the promo code: FLANNEL to SAVE $$$)

2. Don't hate. Appreciate.

3. Never ever lose sight of your inner 11 year old. That kid is the coolest.

Love always,


Tuesday, November 13, 2012

My First Sexton Experience

I was timid. 

Sure, I'd heard a lot of great things, but never knew what to expect.

I've seen videos, but they didn't compare to the real thing.

I heard stories, but feeling it for yourself...well, it's almost indescribable.

It was a venture I won't soon forget.

If you've never heard Martin Sexton, let me tell you, he is an artist that lives up to his name. There is so much emotion in every song. It touches you. (Sometimes in the "no no places".)

It can be slow and moving, yet erratic and powerful. You never know what's next, and you're hanging on every word. Every note. 

Waiting, Anticipating. Totally feelin' it.

He was gentle at first. 

With lighthearted songs like "Happy" and "Grateful", I embraced my inner hippie and pictured myself on a VW bus selling dandelions and LSD at Burning Man. I was on an upward climb of positive energy.

But Martin soon grew very passionate. With his intricate, technical musicianship, it was as if his hands were independent of his body. He kept such a sweet, innocent smile while his hands performed feats of amazement. 

Oh, those hands.

 It was a lot to handle, but never too harsh.

 Just enough. 

The rest of the crowd was as excited as I was. He was interactive and innovative. Captivating. 

We were all singing along, on cue..."Group Sexton?" 

With 200 of my closest music friends, it wasn't exactly intimate. But Martin made me feel like we were the only 2 people in that room.

I will never forget it, and I want more.

Thanks, Martin.

I wonder if he'll call......

Monday, November 5, 2012

That's just, like, your opinion, man

I usually don't ask for autographs or pictures from artists. I'm supposed to give the illusion of cool, at least. But when I love a band, I fucking love a band. So last weekend with Rome, I felt like a fanatic. Sublime is one of my favorite bands of all time, and I think Rome's great. It blows my mind that he started playing with his heroes at such a young age. What a trip, right? Talk about living the dream.

But everyone I meet has an opinion on Rome. Strong opinions on whether the vocalist should ever be replaced if he/she passes away. A friend of mine had the nerve to say that Rome's fame isn't going to last and he'll be "singing in Latin dive bars by the end of next year". (I had 300 screaming fans on Sat who would disagree with that statement, and I was pretty surprised that he had the balls to say it.) We argued for a bit, and he was like, "Brad's the only OG. No one can ever replace him." Yeah, but Brad was also a junkie who put his own needs before the good of the band. Brad was selfish in that respect, so the whole band should have to suffer? The band has to stop making a living because the main dude stopped living?

Should a band die if the singer does? 

I can list more than a few famous bands who replaced singers, and others that chose not to. Sometimes they start side projects with other players but never use the name. While other times, they just throw them right in and hope for the best. For example, I saw Lynyrd Skynyrd live back in 1998. Everyone said, "oh well it's not the REAL Skynyrd. So have a ball with that." Of course it wasn't the real fucking Skynyrd, but I still cried when I heard FREEBIRD Live. It was one of the most epic moments in my concert-going career, and if Skynyrd stopped playing when Ronnie died, I would have never gotten that song. They still tour. Their families are still supported by the music. And I'm 100% sure Ronnie would have wanted it that way.

In my humble opinion, if the band agrees to allow those big shoes to be filled, then the fans should respect their decision and let the music continue.

As one of my other favorite bands once said, "It doesn't really matter, as long as the music goes on."

Everyone has something to say. Post your opinion on our Facebook and I'll hook you up with some tix. We have a rad lineup this weekend with Stepping Feet (Dave Mathews tribute) and Saint Motel (some indie rockers on the rise.) Tell me your thoughts. Get free shit.

Whether or not I agree with you, is irrelevant. I'm still going to assume I'm always right.