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.
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.
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.
What’s been going on at Killers and Demons? Demon Julie has been busy revamping the entire site! Oh yes, you thought it was creepy before, well, take a look at the changes…
The front page has undergone major life altering surgery. For those that dare to enter, a dark journey will unfold including terrifying reviews and sneak peeks into the NEW 80s Metal Murder novel (Final Track), a visit to a crime author panel where writers talk about murder and more, FREE download of the first few scenes of Final Track, FREE live readings, and more!
You can now sign up for the Killers and Demons newsletter for your chance to be entertained by Demon Julie’s adventures, keep up to date on book releases, receive free stories, and more!
Live readings with Glam Demon Julie have been added to the Books section.
Blog posts have been pumped out steady, providing a range of reads. Inspirational posts will charge your happy button and boost your Zen zone.
The Corpse Poems series has launched with ‘The First Corpse’ – a dark look into the first murder scene in the 80s Metal Murder novel – Final Track.
The 80s Metal section has been fleshed out with a look into some rough and raw live music. Stay tuned for more accounts of beer soaked, sweat infused venues and glam gods.
Story Time has been launched and is well underway. Let your spine be prickled and your bones chilled by Demon Julie as she reads to you from dark horror books by amazing authors.
Oh, so much fun!!! Take a walk through the website for creepy readings, sneak peeks into the 80s Metal Murder crime series, blog posts of demon fun, and so much more!!!
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.