After my experience with the foul-mouthed crowd of people who call themselves musicians these days, I thought it would be a while before taking in another concert. But as a dad with teen-agers who live for guitar licks and drum solos, it was not meant to be. This weekend, the little loaf pinchers drug me to Baton Rouge's answer to Jazz Fest. A weekend of free music in the streets of downtown.The handsome dude pounding the skins is the Littlest Loar-Pincher. He and his band, High Voltage, took the kids stage for a four-song set. At 13, he's the old man of the group. The singer rings in at the tender age of 11.They're part of Baton Rouge Music Studio'sYoung Band Development Program. A chance for young musicians to shine outside their school band program. Besides music, the kids get a taste of what it's like to be in a band. Rehearsals, conflicts, communication, everything but the seedy dives and broken-down vans. And there's no greasy manager trying to rip them off.What's in their song set? Metallica? Disturbed? Kanye? Brittney Spears? Nah, these kids go in for the classics. Stuff written before they were even a thought. hell, I was barely older than an embryo when this stuff was written. But The Beatles are timeless.
The last time I went to a rock concert, Ozzy was recovering from rabies. That doesn't mean this old turd can't rattle his brain with the best of them. So I piled Krusty and a couple teens into the Turd-Brown Taurus and headed south to what was billed as a celebration of heavy metal lifestyle.I always thought of head-banging as more of a quick way to get a headache than a lifestyle, but hey, I'm game. So we crowded the lot of the arena with several thousand like-minded live music fans to get down with the sickness. After all, this is the Music As a Weapon tour featuring Disturbed.I'm not sure what happened to music on my way to middle age, but it's changed . . . and not for the better.
Back in the seventies, The Who set the record for the loudest concert in history -- 131 decibels if my aging memory serves me correctly -- and you could still understand the lyrics. And the only four-letter words you ever heard were "rock" and "roll." Today, rock shows are about distorted noise and demonic hollering. And lead "singers," if you can call them that, fling f-bombs around like beads off a Mardi Gras float.Rock and roll used to be about music, lyrics, showmanship, and women. . . Okay, it was about women.Today it's about beating the crap out of total strangers.Women included. At least Krusty had the good sense to stay out of the pit, though he did body surf to the stage and slap hands with some dude with dreadlocks and a microphone.
Rock and Roll used to be about rebellion. Individuality. And the contact high you could get walking past the door to the arena.Yesterday, I saw more thinning mullets and bad ink than on my last trip to Louisiana State Penitentiary. So much for being unique. And I actually heard one old coot complain when the guy next to him lit a cigarette.Yep, the audience at your standard rock show has changed. Pre-pubescent punks from the burbs decked-out in pasty make-up and black because they think it looks hip. They drag aging yuppies from the Beemer to backstage where the old fart hopes to prove to junior that he's still got the chops he had when he was in college. Here's a clue. Kid, that make-up makes you look gay. And Dad, old dudes in pony tails are creepy.
We saw 10 bands in just over 10 hours. All-in-all each one sucked a little less than the one before it. Only four put on any kind of show. While their "music" ain't my thing, Killswitch Engaged kicked major ass. And Lacuna Coil, has a sound just unique enough to make them stand out in a crowd of screamers.But for my money, the best music of the day had to go to four teenagers from Coweta, Oklahoma. Crooked X. Leif Garrett good looks and pipes to boot, combined with some face-melting guitar licks and just a really cool attitude won them a spot in my iPod.And of course thanks to Disturbed for helping me prove to Krusty that the old man can still bang his head with the best of them.
This is fiction. It comes directly from the empty space between my two ears. It never happened. The characters are a figment of my imagination. The situations are not real. The actions, views, opinions, statements, thoughts and other ramblings do not reflect the views or opinions of my employer, or any other real human being or entity.It's fiction, remember.
...slang we tv photogs use for one who turns an utterly worthless story into something that sticks to video tape. Be careful or you'll get some on you. I've been spewing facts across the screen since 1990. This is pure fiction -- never happened -- straight from the fertile mind of a crappy cameraman.
The handsome dude pounding the skins is the Littlest Loar-Pincher. He and his band, High Voltage, took the kids stage for a four-song set. At 13, he's the old man of the group. The singer rings in at the tender age of 11.
They're part of Baton Rouge Music Studio's Young Band Development Program. A chance for young musicians to shine outside their school band program. Besides music, the kids get a taste of what it's like to be in a band. Rehearsals, conflicts, communication, everything but the seedy dives and broken-down vans. And there's no greasy manager trying to rip them off.
What's in their song set? Metallica? Disturbed? Kanye? Brittney Spears? Nah, these kids go in for the classics. Stuff written before they were even a thought. hell, I was barely older than an embryo when this stuff was written. But The Beatles are timeless.
I always thought of head-banging as more of a quick way to get a headache than a lifestyle, but hey, I'm game. So we crowded the lot of the arena with several thousand like-minded live music fans to get down with the sickness. After all, this is the 
I'm not sure what happened to music on my way to middle age, but it's changed . . . and not for the better.
Rock and roll used to be about music, lyrics, showmanship, and women. . . Okay, it was about women.
Today it's about beating the crap out of total strangers.
Women included.
Yesterday, I saw more thinning mullets and bad ink than on my last trip to 
Yep, the audience at your standard rock show has changed. Pre-pubescent punks from the burbs decked-out in pasty make-up and black because they think it looks hip. They drag aging yuppies from the Beemer to backstage where the old fart hopes to prove to junior that he's still got the chops he had when he was in college. Here's a clue. Kid, that make-up makes you look gay. And Dad, old dudes in pony tails are creepy.
But for my money, the best music of the day had to go to four teenagers from Coweta, Oklahoma. 
And of course thanks to 
