Yep, I'm back in Austin....

I know. It kinda caught me by surprise, too. But it's okay. I'm already doing better.

Things fell apart dramatically and rapidly in Denver. I love the town, really. But I found myself instantly one step from living on the streets, with no options, almost overnight. And no real security network to fall on.

After searching out other options, it was apparent I needed to come home. And Austin is home: It was apparent, the way old friends and the old school music community here have been so embracing and welcoming and helpful.

Right off, I landed a house-sitting gig, and an apartment to follow in a few days from this posting. And the old boys have come through with (non-music) gigs to keep me in cash until I get a permanent job. Once all those details are settled, I can get back to playing music and writing and all the other stuff I occupy my spare time with.

Meantime, I'm doing well. Better than I have in ages, in fact. And it's getting better all the time. I'm home. I wish I'd been more appreciative of that fact when I left in 2009....

Not a corndog pic. Much uglier than that....

Goddammit! And here I was, enjoying a months'-long, Palin-free news section! What the hell?



This loudmouth, TOO?! And here I was thinking the American press was finally tired of documenting every hot breath this blowhard exhales! What's going on?

Honestly, I could give two wet shits what a crappy, Christian-run fast food chain thinks, re: gay marriage. Chik-Fil-A is about as tasty as raw cardboard on a bun, anyway. Mind you, if it was In & Out Burger or Viva Burrito making such statements? I'd be pissed - I'd hate to have to avoid such levels of tastiness because it didn't jibe with my politics, dammit!

But, really! Why did the press have to go digging under whatever rock this torturous trio's been hiding under? Do they really need the oxygen of publicity even more?!

As for intolerant Christians, I say, "Let 'em eat Chik-Fil-A." It just proves even their tastebuds are wrong....

Okay, We Can't Seem To Find A Mitt Romney Corn Dog Pic....

...but would you settle for him chowing down on a fried pork chop?

Remember, kids: Friends don't let friends vote for Mormon Republican millionaires who help pioneer outsourcing. Thank you.

Out Of Traction, Back In Action....

I'm rather fond of that photo up there. That's Yerz Truly in 1995, onstage with The Hormones at The Green Onion in San Antonio, TX. Over my shoulder: My trusty Les Paul Jr. that I wish I'd never lost to the pawn shop in 1999. To my right: Ron Williams, my musical soul mate, with whom I wish I was still making music. In this photo, we are busily christening the stage at The Green Onion, the Sons Of Hercules' club, the first band to take it.

There was a time when this was a regular occurrence in my life. I lived to make music. I haven't been able to in a long time. And that is now changing.

Two years ago, after interviewing Iggy And The Stooges guitarist James Williamson for Guitar World magazine, I was able to purchase the first guitar I've owned since I lost all my gear to the economic collapse in 2008. Last weekend, I finally finished paying off the first amp I've owned since then.

I have the bare bones now: A guitar, an amp, and a tuner. I can return to what I do best.

Quietly, over the past year, I've met musicians I feel would make a fine new lineup of The Hormones here in Denver. Once I can hash out a rehearsal schedule that can synch with everyone's lives, we'll get to work. I've also joined Dave Mansfield's new band The Roxy Suicide, strictly as their guitarist. So, for the first time in my musical life, I'll be pulling double duty.

This moment means a lot to me. I've honestly felt lost, not being able to make music for so long. And if you look at the last decade, I've been kept off the stage and out of the studio for most of it, due to personal circumstances. I've now got an overload of songs to bring to life, and to bring to the public.

So, yeah. Part of the pledge I made earlier this year -   1) Return to music with a new Hormones lineup; and 2) finally finish and publish my novel  - is coming to pass. Now I have to tend to the other part of that pledge.

Meantime, I'm talking to a label or two. You should be seeing Hormones music, new and old, before the year is out. Meantime, I've set up a Hormones page at Facebook, under construction as I try to piece the band's history together. Please feel free to add it to keep apprised of news as we kick this corpse back to life. You should also add The Roxy Suicide's Facebook page, to keep abreast of that band's movements.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have songs to write. Thanks for reading this.

To Hype A Good Buddy's New Radio Venture....

Rev. Norb demonstrates his amazing shadow puppet prowess.

My Irregulars! I interrupt my unemployment to bring you excellent news for all who mourn the death of "RADIO NAPALM!" Punk Boss Radio LIVES! Rejoice! And it's all due to my longest-lived friend in the entire punk community! The man New Bomb Turk Eric Davidson expertly proclaimed was the other side of a coin I had no idea I was part of! A man who proclaimed in a nationally-published Boris The Sprinkler tour diary that I was possibly more manic than he and needed to lay off the Dr. Pepper! A man who made it into both The Encyclopedia Of Punk and herr Davidson's We Never Learn, even if I didn't! We ("we," of course, meaning "I") are referring to the one and only REV. NORB!

Not Rev. Norb, but an incredible simulation!

*ahem!* Anyway...Norbie has begun a new weekly podcast series at the almighty GaragePunk Hideout called "Bubblegum Fuzz." As should be indicated by the title, the one-hour, downloadable show is hairline-deep in the sorta garage/punk/power-pop gunk that's been the righteous Rev's cup-o-meat as long as I've known him. (No, don't ask either of us how long that's been! We choose not to remind ourselves and each other of our geezerhood....) I mean, dig the playlists! Von Zippers? Dwarves? Little Killers? Monkees? Paul Revere And The Raiders? The Ruts? The A-Bones? Slickee Boys? Plastic Bertrand? Len Price 3? How can ya go wrong?

All this and Norbie's patented graphic touch, too? How can you go wrong?

Factor in Norb's patented motormouth baritone backtrack sections (that voice was MEANT for radio!), and you have one hell of an entertaining listen! Seriously: "Bubblegum Fuzz" is very much irritating my jones to return to radio! (WHICH WILL NOT HAPPEN! At least, not this year.) So, whaddaya waitin' for?! Traipse over to Norb's GaragePunk Hideout blog and commence to clicking and downloading! It's the most fun you can have with your clothes on in 2012! Over and out....

A James Williamson guitar lesson!

Oh, you kids don't know how good you have it! In my day, I had to stand over a turntable (that thing we used to listen to music on - yeah, kinda the iPod of our time! Pay attention!) and play Raw Power at half-speed, guitar in hand, to try and figure out the savage six-string stranglin's James Williamson was emanating. But thanks to a School Of Rock in Michigan (home state of Iggy And The Stooges, obviously), you can now learn directly from the master himself how to properly  bash out "Search And Destroy!" (And I emphasize "properly": Turns out there have been certain nuances I've gotten wrong this whole time....) So, whaddaya waitin' for? Grab your Les Paul, set the amp controls to "stun," and watch Straight James give you the straight dope on "Search And Destroy!"

And in more fun news, happy birthday to Gene Vincent!

I fully realize I've already posted all over my Facebook wall about today being the birthday of the one Fifties rock 'n' roll pioneer who was likely the degenerate thug rock's detractors claimed all rock 'n' roll musicians were in the day. (Dammit, I really need to think twice about FB posting material that might be better for a blog.) But Eugene Vincent Craddock deserves celebration. He was primal, lusty, lowdown, and could still sing like an angel when needed. Elvis Presley's drummer, DJ Fontana (who was a Blue Cap for six months when Presley was drafted into the Army), verified that Gene and his Blue Caps were the pre-Keith Moon definition of rock 'n' roll hellraising on the road, to the point where he had to quit the band! And Gene's music? It had more thump, sex, swagger, and menace than anyone this side of Elvis. Case in point? Click below....

"Be Bop A Lula," the record that started it all. It confused Gladys Presley to the point she called her boy Elvis on the road to congratulate him on his new hit, "Be Bop A Lula!" What you just saw is Gene and the Blue Caps' immortal performance of it in the best Fifties rock 'n' roll film bar none, Frank Tashlin's The Girl Can't Help It, also featuring Eddie Cochran, Little Richard, Fats Domino, and Jayne Mansfield's million watt sexuality. Does it get any better?

Unlike Elvis and many other contemporaries, Gene suffered a leg injury in the service which prevented him from indulging the hip-thrusting gyrations other early rockers employed. Once he got to England, UK rock impresario Jack Goode draped him in black leather and chains and urged him to limp even more pronouncedly, turning him into some Shakespearean villain of rock. It drove the English and Europeans wild. Dig Gene in Belgium in the early '60s, predicting punk rock with a crazed performance of "Long Tall Sally," complete with a crutch-hurling entrance that's just pure rock 'n' roll attitude!

I only just discovered today, however, that Gene made contemporary, small label records during his '60s commercial twilight that were as vital and rocking as any he cut in the Capitol Records Tower in his heyday. Such as this garage punk (!) screamer, "Bird-Doggin'," featuring Gene backed by The Wrecking Crew getting low-down and dirty. Glen Campbell, of all people, even turns in some crazed, fuzz-drenched lead guitar!

I was even hipped to Gene having done some credible Byrds-influenced folk rock in this period, none of which is embarrassing. Think about that: Under the radar, Gene Vincent was still contemporary and vital. The only other peers of his doing strong, modern work at that time were the Everly Brothers and Dion. Elvis was losing his touch in Hollywood, wondering what the hell had happened. And Gene just rocked on....

Happy birthday, Gene. You really were the Living End....