Thursday, October 29, 2009


. . . or too young for that matter.

Back in May when I took Krusty to the Bludgeon Your Head With Someone Else's Fist Fest, I told the Littlest Loaf Pincher I'd take him to see any group he wanted to see. I knew full well that the kid's an old schooler and he'd never pick anybody who was still young enough to strut it on stage.

He didn't disappoint. He picked his favorite band. No way on earth those guys would climb out of their iron lungs long enough to rock a sold-out arena full of thinning mullets and rock-show virgins.Boy was I wrong.

AC/DC can still bring it. And I aint talking some pansy-ass watered down, unplugged version of once-great stadium anthems. I'm talking two-plus hours of gut-wrenching, ball-busting, face-melting, throat-shredding rock and roll.

Sure, Brian Johnson sounds like Burgess Merideth filtered through a quart of rot-gut whiskey. But that's the beauty of the band from down under. You ain't gotta be able to sing to sing along. All you need is a throat and some wind. Lots of wind.Their hair is thinner, and their bodies aren't quite as tight as they used to be, but the music never missed a beat. From the first lick of Angus' Gibson to the last cannon blasts of "For Those About to Rock," The sixty-something rockers danced, cavorted, and sweat -- lots of sweat -- their way through all their classics.This may be showing my age a bit, but one of the best things -- aside from everything else -- was the fact that from the first notes of The Answer's opening set, to the trip out to the parking lot after AC/DC brought the house down, not one single four-letter syllable was uttered on stage. And that's refreshing in a world where posers think they have to be foul to be offensive. (What I muttered in the traffic jam leaving the show is another story.) Kids, take note. Lace you lyrics with thinly-veiled sexual innuendo and benign threats of violence if you wanna be a real rocker.I'll be deaf for days, but it was worth it. Not only for the first-class rock show, but for the look on the LLP's face as he banged his head old-school. Now if you'll excuse me, I've gotta go gargle with old razor blades. It's the only way I can think of that Brian Johnson recuperates between shows.

Monday, October 19, 2009


Anyone who knows me, knows I gotta rock. The iPod is full of stuff from AC/DC to Zeppelin, B.B. King to van Zant, Marvin Gaye to . . . he's in a class by himself. If I'm awake, there's a tune floating around my big, empty nugget, and I'm on-stage in a sold-out arena somewhere rocking the mic and melting faces with my axe.

But with me, air guitar and off-key warbling is as far as it goes. Just ask any of my daily groupies.
The LLP has inherited my penchant for performance, but he's doing something about it. He's been whacking the skins since he was eight.This weekend, he and 60 other like-minded future head-bangers rocked the stage at the St. George Church Fair. As venues go, it ain't Madison Square Garden, but the competing noise from the Tilt-O-Whirl aside, it's a great start.All these aspiring musicians owe their start to Baton Rouge Music Studios. A local music school that's thinking out of the box. Lessons just weren't enough for director Doug Gay. He wanted to find a way to give kids a chance to shine and his Young Band Development Program does just that.

I'm gonna shut up now.

If you like that. Check out all the bands on my Youtube Channel.

Thursday, October 15, 2009


Back in May when I penned my opus on the seasons, I left one out. It wasn't intentional, and technically, it's not a season most photogs mark. I'm talking, of course, about Laundry Season.

At Camp Polisher, Laundry Season begins in early October and lasts
all the way through mid February. It is characterized by the sudden onslaught of piles of sweaty, smelly clothes in the overflowing baskets in the laundry room.

Living in a house with three dudes, Mrs. Polisher is very acquainted with our various fragrances. But Laundry Season has an air all it's own. Ya see, it coi
ncides with the onset of wrestling season.It's a time when normally smelly teens kick it up a notch. Krusty can sweat through five sets of clothes a day, not counting the cute little spandex number his mom calls a onesie.It's a season of blood, sweat, and tears -- usually just beyond the laundry room door. But in Laundry Season you do what ya gotta do for the pin. Krusty is headed into the season in the best shape of his life -- 138 pounds and about 9% body fat. He's hoping to be the spoiler at the city and state tournaments this year.The road to the top goes right through his arch rival, Cade Leblanc of Zachary. To watch these two go at it, you'd swear they were fighting for the hand of a fair maiden or a king's ransom. And whatever they do to each other on the mat, there's always a hug and a handshake when it's over.That's probably my favorite part of Laundry Season, the sportsmanship. No trash talk. No endzone dance. Just six minutes of two sweaty guys manhandling each other, and a little mutual respect when the final bell rings.

That, and an assload of smelly sweats.