NOTE: When I tried to post a link on my Facebook page to it, I was informed that my post contained "blocked content" that had been flagged as "spammy or abusive." Say WHAT?!!
Guten morgen, meine readers. Pay not that much credence to the title. It simply stems from the fact of my listening to The Ruts' superlative John Peel Sessions as I write this, recordings that bristle with far more elemental power than much of their released catalog. This and strong black coffee and steel cut oats are really setting me up nicely for the day.
Anyway, it has now been something close to three weeks since I packed my scant belongings and winged it to Denver. And I must say, I have officially fallen in love with this town. It's nice to find Austin again, as I remember it. So no, I won't be moving back to L.A. I am staying here.
So, the plan now:
1) Work up a significant nest egg, paying off some debts and buying much needed musical equipment along the way.
2) Get a new apartment.
3) Start a new lineup of The Hormones.
4) Finish the novel before the year is out.
I'm sure Number Three is surprising to some of you. I suspect many have been wanting that out of me for a long time. Others may wonder about the wisdom of it. The way I look at it, that was my band. I wrote the songs, I led and fronted the band, it was my baby. I discovered when I was an L.A. resident my old band was better known than I realized, far better known than Napalm Stars. And after witnessing longtime Hormones brother band The Stitches induce fits amongst a roomful of drunken 20-somethings over a month ago, I realized that I know all-too-well how to do that, as well. And I went home and wrote six really good songs in a row, my first compositions in two years.
But first, I need gear. And three other locals who also understand that delicate mix of Johnny Thunders, Cheap Trick, The Clash and the Rolling Stones that I've been mining all these years. The gear is crucial, though: At the moment, all I have is a late '70s Japanese Les Paul Custom copy I got off eBay for $200, and a tiny Fender one watt practice amp that's only good either for a really muffled blues timbre or the nastiest '60s fuzz guitar you've heard. (Seriously, I could recreate Vincebus Eruptum with this thing, and at low volume.) Neither of those sounds are characteristic of the sound I go for, and I could only play Charlie's living room with that setup, anyway. With no band.
Anyway, thanks for reading this. I'll try to write about books I've read lately or something soon. I appreciate your indulgence.