When one the best hard rock albums of all time came out, I was but a young, impressionable girl.I was still well behaved back then, for the most part. I had poisoned my mind with light pop such as Celine Dion and Tiffany. I had started to reach my tentacles tentatively into the exciting vibrations of the long haired rockers that were popping up all around me.But until I experienced Appetite, well, I had no idea what real hard rock was.I recall walking into the music store and finding the plastic encased tape that would change my music listening experience forever. I also recall my mother questioning the warning labels of explicit language and other such things. I assured her it was fine. Somehow she went along with it.
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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.
GnR Live – Rough and Raw
Every live music experience is special in it’s own way. I love live music. I love the entire experience. From beer soaked joints packed tight to massive stadiums filled with screaming crowds, every experience is unique. And the band does not have to be perfect. in fact, it’s better if they’re not.
I did see GnR when they re-united after many, many years. They all should have been dead a couple of decades earlier. I knew I wasn’t paying to see the GnR of 1987. I knew I was going to see the recently re-united and older GnR. It did turn out to be one of my favourite concerts. Why? Many reasons.
I got to wear what I wanted…
I mean, it’s not like I don’t wear what I want, well, most of the time, but, all of a sudden my pleather and tassels were acceptable. I fit right in. I was tickled pink that I could dawn my stretchy pleather pants and strut around in my buckled boots. Yeah bitch!
It was an outdoor setting on a beautiful day, which we don’t get too much of here in freakin’ Canada. Basking in the sun, beer in hand, band on stage – you can’t ask for more. The drive up had been stressful on a packed highway with a bunch of other jackasses gunning it to the concert. The evening unfolded, starting with tacos and beers, and sliding into an early arrival to the outdoor venue. We had plenty of time to enjoy the amazing opening band and to chat it up with the friends who had joined us. I was relaxed.
Of course, GnR was – well – GnR. My long time beloved front man had been dwindling for a while. But I knew this. I was prepared. He held his own – well enough – for me to be delighted by the somewhat reminiscent screeches of the wild orange maned Axel of my youth. Even if it only came in small glimpses between rest breaks, during which I’m sure he was guzzling water and gulping down oxygen from a tank behind the stage. Still. I got to see Axel one last time.
