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.

All That Jazz

If you ever get a chance to go to New Orleans... GO!!!

Or is it GEAUX?

Either way, everything you have heard about the place is true.

Well, the good things.

I can’t speak for the bad.

Because I didn’t see any.

Like any big city -- and New Orleans is a big city -- there are problems.

And the hurricane of seven years past has still left a crippling impact.

But based on where we went.

And what we saw.

And what we eat.

I can’t wait to go back.

I had always heard that New Orleans is one of the most dangerous cities in the country.

“Keep your wallet in your front pocket.”

“Don’t cross that street.”

I heard all that stuff.... and more.

And I’m sure there are plenty of horror stories that would justify those concerns.

But fortunately I was not one of them.

The people we met were among the nicest I have ever encountered.

Ever!

I went on the trip with my friend, who is originally from New York.

And the Southern hospitality really pissed him off.

“It makes me want to be nice,” he said.  “And that makes me very uncomfortable.”

But he eventually got over it.

And started to feel right at home.

I was actually surprised how much the French Quarter reminded me of New York City.

A ton of restaurants.

Bars.

Shops.

It had everything a tourist would ever need.

Except a Starbucks.

Or McDonalds.

But plenty of bars.

PLENTY.

Our first night was spent at Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop.

The corner of Bourbon and St. Philip.

They claim to be “the oldest structure used as a bar in the United States.” 

At a quick glance it doesn’t seem like anything special.

But make sure you walk inside.

All the way to the dark room in the back, where the piano is located.

Before I knew it, it was 1:00am.

A guy who looked like Jack Sparrow and sounded like Dr. John was banging on the keys, belting out the tunes.

That was definitely the high point of the famed Bourbon Street for me.

The rest of the street was quite disgusting.

Way too many people.

Way too many strip bars.

(Did I just say that?)

Way too much... yuck.

But travel one block to the south and you’re on Royal Street.

A much more civilized way to spend the night.

Two more blocks to the south and you’re on Decatur.

The home of the beignet.

Cafe du Monde.

We made our obligatory trip there for our first breakfast.

Because that’s what you do.

But I gotta be honest, it didn’t make my mouth go AMAZING, as I hoped that it would.

As far as donuts go, it was fine.

But I’d rather have one of them “Hot Doughnuts Now” at Krispy Kreme.

Any day of the week.

Fortunately right up the street from Cafe du Monde was a place to wash it all down.

Evangeline.

The home of the Bacon Bloody Mary.

Bacon-infused Vodka with a slice of the real stuff inside.

It definitely tested my theory that bacon makes everything better.

But this was actually quite tasty.

Especially at 11 in the AM.

There is no shortage of culture in New Orleans.

No shortage of quirky either.

Take Jackson Square.

That’s between Royal and Decatur.

We walked by the square around midnight and saw no fewer than 25 palm readers.

Just sitting at their card table.

Under candlelight.

Waiting to read your palm.

We stared, but didn’t stop.

One of the readers had a sign that said -- “Do you know what I am thinking now?”

No.

But what I was thinking was ... this is really weird!

During the day at Jackson Square, the palm readers were replaced by a different group of quirk.

“Cemetery Tours.”

The horse and carriages were lined up on Decatur, trying to sell me on seeing the dead.

We passed on that as well.

But that was not the end of the street experience.

Not by far.

Night and day the area is overflowing with people.

Artists showing off their work.

“Poets for hire” sitting at their typewriter.

And more musicians than the LSU marching band.

The instrument of choice in New Orleans usually involves something brass.

And these guys can really blow.

Down and around the bend from Bourbon Street is Frenchmen Street.

That’s where the locals hang out.

Well, where they used to hang out.

Before us tourists found out how cool it is.

Tons of bars.

Duh!

A bunch of music clubs.

Impromptu bands on the street corner.

On the steps of a building.

Courtesy my iPhone

Everywhere you go, there is music.

Up until last week I really thought I loved music.

Then I went to New Orleans.

Let me tell you, that city LOVES music.

People spend eight hours a day at the Jazz Festival listening to music.

Then they go grab something quick to eat.

Probably fried and with crawfish in it.

Then it’s off to a local club to see another show.

Tipitina’s

Preservation Hall.

House of Blues.

Take your pick.

This city has more clubs than ten decks of cards.

The hot show while we were there was a band called Galactic.

Friday night at Rock N’ Bowl.

Actually make that Saturday morning.

2:00AM.

Don’t these people sleep?

Apparently not, the cover charge was $25 and the place was sold out.

My last night there we went to one of them late night/early morning shows.

This one at the Maple Leaf Bar.

Three bands, $20.

We made it in time for the 11:30 show.

11:30PM!

And that was the warm-up band for the 2:30 show.

This bar is no bigger than a basketball court.

A high school basketball court.

But these guys were cranking out music like we were at Madison Square Garden.

It was incredible.

I was arms distance away from some world class musicians who took me to a place I had never been.

For two hours.

By the end of the show, I was ready for a nap.

Which is all I had time for since I had to leave for the airport just three hours later.