Ode to the Lizard King

There’s something about a good front man that makes my insides tingle. I want a reptile like, tight, scantily clad body slithering up to a microphone, piercing my soul with his haunting eyes, and cloaking me with his deep, dark words. I want to feel like I’m the only one in the audience. Like he’s only singing to me.

The Lizard King has always been one of my favorite front men, despite the fact that I’ve only seen him on screen. His vocals are hypnotizing enough to pull me into the TV, landing me in a prime position, squished against the front of the stage.

He absolutely epitomized the definition of good front man. A poet at heart, he went through the ultimate transformation when he stepped on stage. Like a second skin, he shed his shyness, his trepidation, his old self, to become what the masses needed. Men and women looked to him to lead them to the other side in their acid induced states as he crooned to them of dead toads on the road and the end.

His words were haunting. His presence hypnotizing. His essence sereal. If I could, I would step back on time into one of those jam packed venues and infuse myself into the giant being of a crowd swaying back and forth in time to the delivery of the Liazrd King on stage in all his glory.

He had it all. A tight body. Long curls. Luscious lips. A dark message. A mysterious vibe. He entranced entire audiences, taking them away to another world with his presence alone.

If I am to mention how much I love a good front man, I must mention the Lizard King, eventhough I’ve only met him in my rock ‘n roll dreams.

Hanging by a Finger from a Balcony, Infused with Rye, and Steven Tyler….

This is a post about one of the most electric live music experiences of my life.

I literally was hanging onto the side of balcony by a combination of the tips of my booted toes and a finger (well maybe two or three fingers), watching one of the most amazing rock gods of all time, in a beer and sweat soaked tent. Somehow I manage to head bang to my fullest.

20191206_160329.jpg

Let’s back up here. It was Stampede. For those of you who don’t what the heck Stampede is, it’s the ‘Greatest Outdoor Show on Earth.’ Ten days packed full of parties and fun, it’s a concoction of a massive rodeo, an outdoor amusement park, casinos, livestock shows, art galleries, beer gardens, and live concerts. To top it off, the people of Calgary, the fine city that hosts this ridiculous brouhaha, attend a plethora of pancake breakfasts suited up on western gear. Yeeee-haw!!!

I grew up in Calgary, thus, Stampede seethes through my blood. The lover of music that I am, one of the highlights is the line up of live shows that migrate our way during this festive time. When Steven Tyler announced he would be playing at the Cowboys Tent – an outdoor, massive tent erected for the ten days of partying – I snatched my tickets up immediately. Loud. Sweaty. Standing room only. My kind of show.

Continue reading “Hanging by a Finger from a Balcony, Infused with Rye, and Steven Tyler….”