A Night to Remember

2012.

The year of the cross things off of my bucket list.

Not the catchiest of slogans.

But in a matter of weeks I've managed to take care of two biggies.

First a trip to New Orleans.

And now Van Halen in concert.

WITH David Lee Roth.

About 25 years ago, I got to see a Van Hagar show.

And it was fantastic.

But until last night, I had never seen the real Van Halen.

From the first time I heard "So This is Love".

Or "Big Bad Bill".

Or "I’m the One".

I fell in love with this group.

But for one reason or more I never got to see the original band together in concert.

Hey, there was nothing wrong with the Sammy Hagar years.

But for anyone who saw Willie Mays play for the Mets.

You didn’t really see Willie Mays.

No disrespect to the Mets.

Or Sammy Hagar.

But Van Halen is David Lee Roth.

And of course it’s Eddie... and Alex.

And it’s Michael Anthony too.

But as much as the bass makes the music better.

The bass player is not the one wearing the sparkly jacket, doing the karate kicks in the middle of the stage.

That would be David Lee Roth.

And Thursday night he didn’t disappoint.

Oh, there were times he tried.

His voice is NOWHERE near what it used to be.

His dance moves were more Arthur Murray than Arthur Conley.

And that cliche smile made me feel more like he was running with the politicians.

Than running with the devil.

But other than that, Dave was flawless.

Even after all these years, this guy is 100% rockstar.

Well sorta.

At one point during the show I tweeted:

Sir Bacon ‏@sirbacon123

David Lee Roth is 75% showman, 82% caricature, 96% entertainer. That adds up to 100%, right? 

@RealCdnAngel liked that tweet so much, she made it one of her favorites.

Like the Bruce Springsteen show I attended in New Orleans, I decided to tweet the set list, live as it happened.

But unlike the boss, I’m not as well versed in Van Halen song names.

And that came back to bite me.

Several times.

I can probably blame my love for live tweeting on ADD, but I sure did enjoy it.

Instead of losing my real voice, I got to express my inner one.

Tweeting things like:

• David Lee Roth averted major disaster during song 1. During spin, sunglasses fell off. He caught them before they hit ground. Phew.

• No sign ... yet... that the band hates each other.

• DLR just did 1st back bend of night in song 4... 

• And there it is .. 9:20pm MT... David Lee Roth first karate kick of night. Good news, he survived.

• Guy one row in front of me just missed a note on air guitar during Eddie solo.

• Three sets of leg splits by DLR during Beautiful Girls.

• DLR to lady in front row: "I made my first sex tape in 1982. I slept w/any girl w/two legs in her pants. Even an amputee." TMI DLR.

• Song 24 -- new DLR sparkly jacket. ANOTHER one. -- Ain't talkin bout love. David Lee Roth has missed more words than he has sang.

• BREAKING NEWS: 10:51pm MT . David Lee Roth's latest sparkly jacket has been taken off.

• 10:54pm MT, #VanHalen leaves Denver stage after Jump. Our 1st clue was confetti shot off during song, then DLR waving checkered flag.

It’s amazing how much love you can spread through just 140 characters.

And it goes both ways.

Like @joesanders33.

He informed me that “VH fans do not wear earplugs” after I announced that I did.

My new BFF @RealCdnAngel told me I need to “listen to more Roth era albums” when I didn’t remember a name to a song.

A song that was released 32 years ago.

But the highlight of the twitter night for me came about an hour after the show.

That's when @wolfvanhalen retweeted a picture I took at the concert.

You see @wolfvanhalen is Wolfgang Van Halen.

Eddie’s son.

And the new bass player in the group.

How cool is that?

Me and Wolfie exchanging tweets.

That was my brush with greatness.

It’s almost like we almost met.

In all, the show ran five minutes short of two hours.

A decent time for a big-time rock band.

But considering that this big-time rock band may not be together for much longer, I’ll take anything I can get.

Other than a few songs off the new album.

I knew them all.

All 25.

And those 25 included pretty much every song you would want to hear.

Including the covers.

What I didn’t realize until recently is how much Roth was responsible for the unique sound of early Van Halen.

Not the insanely crazy guitar shredding.

That was all Eddie.

Or the hard-pounding drum rolling.

That’s all Alex.

But I’m told that Dave does deserve credit for taking an old classic.

And making it new.

Making it VAN HALEN.

Like You Really Got Me.

Dancing in the Street.

Pretty Woman.

Happy Trails.

I could go on.

It was Dave’s love of music that helped VH separate themselves from VH1.

And based on that, I’m guessing it was Dave who picked the opening band for this concert tour.

Kool & the Gang.

Yes, that Kool & the Gang.

Is there another?

That match didn’t really seem to make sense.

Kinda like when Eddie Van Halen hooked up with the little sister from One Day at a Time.

But unlike that marriage, Kool & the Gang worked out just fine.

They played for like 47 minutes and never once did I look at my watch.

One hit song after another.

Wrapping their night with a six-minute version of Celebrate.

Good thing they didn’t forget that one.

I found out at the show that the Kool in the group is actually bass player Robert “Kool” Bell.

And the Gang on this night was a group of 10 other guys.

10 amazing musicians.

So amazing I actually saw a bunch of 40-something white guys try to dance.

I wish I hadn't.

But they certainly set the tone for a great night of music.

A night of music that was well worth the wait.

Spring In My Step

September 2, 1981.

The first major mistake of my life.

Not the only mistake.

Not by far.

Just the first.

That was the night I turned down a chance to see Bruce Springsteen in concert at the San Diego Sports Arena.

I was 14 years old.

And I had never seen a Bruce show before.

He was on the last leg of the tour that was promoting The River 8-track tape.

I was at a friend’s house that afternoon, about ten minutes from the arena.

Unfortunately the rest of the details are a little fuzzy.

But the bottom line is part of our group went to the concert.

And the rest of us stayed at home.

I’m sure we did something really fun.

Like watch Laverne & Shirley.

Or play Pong.

But what I didn’t do is see Bruce.

Or the E Street Band.

It took me three years, one month and 29 days to realize what a giant mistake that was.

But thankfully on the night of October 31, 1984, I lost my Springsteen virginity.

That night my friend Phil and I had front row seats in the loge section at the L.A. Sports Arena.

And for four plus hours we were hypnotized.

I don’t know if that specific concert is in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

But to Phil and I, it is THE best concert of all-time.

According to the trusty internet, the show started with High School Confidential, a cover of the Jerry Lee Lewis song.

And it ended several hours later with a cover of Santa Claus is Coming to Town.

Somewhere in the middle Bruce actually played some of his own songs.

Now by 1984 I had already been to a bunch of concerts.

Everything from Stevie Wonder to Poco.

Heart to Styx.

But it wasn’t until that night that I found out I had never seen a show before.

By that point I was familiar with some of Bruce’s music.

But after that show I became a SUPER fan.

28 years later I own pretty much everything he has done.

And pathetically I know most of the words to most of the songs.

I can’t count on both hands the number of Bruce concerts I have since attended.

I would guess it is somewhere in the high teens.

And I don’t plan on stopping there.

My most recent trip into the swamps of Jersey took place last Sunday.

In New Orleans.

For only the second time ever the 62-year-old Bruce was performing at the 43-year-old New Orleans Jazz Festival.

The first time was in 2006.

That year Bruce put on a heart-wrenching post-Katrina performance that they are still talking about today.

Now Bruce wasn’t the only reason I decided to go to the Big Easy last weekend.

But it sure was some nice icing on the cake.

At Jazz Fest, they have like ten stages.

Playing music all day, from 11a-7p.

My friend Mark and I dabbled in the little stages, but by Sunday afternoon at 4:30 there was only one place to be.

50,000 others had the same idea.

The main stage venue was absolutely packed.

90% Bruce fans.

10% others, who didn’t have the strength to leave the fairgrounds after a day of drinking in the hot sun.

But when Bruce took the stage, everybody was paying attention.

Even people that weren’t there.

And to help those who couldn’t make it, I decided to push my limits of technology.

Tweeting out the list of songs.

Live.

As they happened.

Two nights earlier I learned of this new phenomenon, as I monitored the show from Los Angeles.

Courtesy of @Variety_StuartL.

Like any good promoter, I notified the twitter world that afternoon that I would be doing this.

And within minutes I had a whole bunch of new followers.

I mean friends.

Like @girltrueheart.

And @nancpl.

And @stephensurefire.

And at least a dozen more.

Not Ashton Kutcher territory, but not bad for a mom-and-pop blogger with a funny moniker.

My friend Mark didn’t share in my enthusiasm.

Harassing me every time I tweeted during the concert.

Saying I should be focused on the show, instead of these people I didn’t even know.

But to me, it was just a way of paying it forward.

From the first note of Badlands at 4:42pm.

To the last note of Tenth Avenue Freeze Out.

Two hours and 32 minutes later.

I tweeted.

31 times.  Posting 605 words.

And loving every second of it.

By the end of the show, my iPhone was out of battery.

And so was I.

Just like every Bruce show I had ever attended.

Criminal Minds

Two men were found guilty of a crime on Monday.

One in a court of law.

One in a court of public opinion.

One could go to jail for four years.

One will live in hell for the rest of his life.

Conrad Murray was convicted of involuntary manslaughter in the death of Michael Jackson.

A jury found that “Dr.” Murray was guilty of giving the King of Pop the drugs that eventually killed him.

For some fans of Jackson, this may feel somewhat satisfying.

For me, it really doesn’t mean much.

The bottom line is Michael Jackson is gone.

And even with the guilty verdict, he’s not coming back.

Twitter exploded when the news came out.

It’s amazing how many different ways you can say CONRAD MURRAY GUILTY!!! in 140 characters.

Or less.

Murray will be sentenced on November 29.

And that’s the last we will hear of him.

Hopefully.

The other case is just starting.

And we don’t know yet just how ugly this will get.

What we do know is that Jerry Sandusky is an animal.

A lion.

A Nittany Lion.

Since 1963, he has spent his life at Penn State.

First as a player.  Then as an Assistant Coach.  Then as the Defensive Coordinator.

He retired from active football duty in 1999.

But has remained on campus until as recently as last week.

But everything he accomplished on the football field has been wiped out by what he may have done off the field.

Sandusky was arrested Saturday.

Charged with molesting boys.

Eight boys.

In a 15-year period.

What Sandusky is being accused of is beyond criminal.

But the details of these crimes will change the lives of many beyond this sick 67-year-old.

And his eight innocent victims.

Or more.

In 1977, Sandusky started a program to help at-risk youths.

Apparently Sandusky thought that helping them meant touching them.

And slapping them.

And groping them.

And assaulting them.

And molesting them.

And raping them.

There are 40 charges in all.

Most of which include some type of legal mumbo jumbo.

Like corruption of minors.

Endangering the welfare of a child.

Unlawful contact.

Whatever you want to call it, Jerry Sandusky is accused of being one of the sickest people on the planet.

A pedophile disguised as a great guy.

Someday he will get his day in court.

But he will never change the way we will always remember him.

Even with all that he has done though, Sandusky is not the only guilty party here.

In 2002, a Penn State grad assistant watched the former defensive coordinator performing offensive behavior.

With a boy.

A boy believed to be 10-years-old.

Sandusky was assaulting that naked boy in a shower.

A shower located on the Penn State campus.

But instead of trying to stop the attack.

Or going to the police.

That grad assistant did what everybody would do on the Penn State campus.

They ran to dad.

Or in this case grandpa.

Joe Paterno has been the head coach at Penn State since 1966.

The 84-year-old is the all-time winningest coach in the history of college football.

And by all accounts, he has run one of the cleanest programs in the country.

Until now.

Upon hearing of this horrendous allegation back in 2002, Paterno waited a day.

And then he told the school’s Athletic Director Tim Curley.

Who told the senior vice president of business and finance, Gary Schultz.

And within weeks, this story was gone.

Before it became a story.

Poof.

Just like that.

The two school administrators had found a giant rug.

And pushed this program-destructing allegation under it.

I’m sure I left a few details out.

I had to leave something for Nancy Grace.

But the bottom line is for nine years Joe Paterno knew about this.

And for nine years, Joe Paterno did nothing.

Tim Curley did nothing.

Gary Schultz did nothing.

Penn State did nothing.

The police knew nothing.

At least they were not contacted by the university.

As it is required by state law.

This was not just a grown man doing inappropriate things.

This was a grown man, representing a state college.

In State College.

For 30 years.

Performing unlawful sex acts on a child.

On the school campus.

Witnessed by a member of the football program.

Being covered up.

Not even Joe Paterno can get out of this mess.

And he’s got nobody to blame.

But the man in the mirror.