I woke up on Saturday morning with a concert hangover: the vibration of music running through my veins, my ears ringing as Faster Pussycat songs dominated my mind, and I had the desire to get out there to do it again.
I couldn't wait to see Phil Lewis with his new LA Guns men. But, first, I had to make one final attempt at finding my friend. So I went to the local library, perhaps they had archives of wedding announcements or worse, an obituary. Instead, the young man that helped me only had a yearbook for me to look at, and all I found was her middle initial under her senior picture. He advised I look at all the sites I've endlessly checked- and off I went with very little information in my pocket.
I've learned that time moves fast when you're traveling and before I knew it- I was at Revolution Music Hall in Amityville, Long Island.
Now, this is where things are going to get interesting. I'm blunt, what can I say, I'm a writer and I don't believe in censorship.
I felt invisible in a crowded bar. No I do not feel entitled nor do I believe I deserve royal treatment, but, it pisses me off to see a group of men, or women, hovering over chairs, using them to lean
on, and denying the right to anyone wishing to sit. Instead of causing a scene, I ignored them and walked away to observe the stage area. Because who knows, maybe they were saving seats for someone else, and the opening bands were on the stage after-all.
Revolution is a cool smaller bar, I loved the ambiance. It was by far the best scene I've been in a long time; but I worried about space and how I'd be able to move around the crowd to score decent pictures of the band from many angles. I was then interrupted by a fat boy who took up a few minutes of my time talking to me about my camera.
"Do you want to sit down and have a drink with me?" He asks.
"Finally," I thought to myself and accepted his offer.
Minutes later, he decides to start complaining.
"Can you believe LA Guns starts at midnight?" he asked.
"So? This is New York," I said. "If you want a seven o'clock show go to New Hampshire."
"This isn't New York, it's Long Island," he said rolling his eyes, shaking his head, laughing.
"Ah, it's still New York?" I said. "It's New York!"
"I don't really care too much about Faster Pussycat," he said.
"What? Why?" I asked.
Then, he made the mother of all mistakes.
"They're a cover band," he said.
"What in the damn hell did you say?" I shook my head and debated with him for a few minutes.
"Faster Pussycat is nothing without Brent Muscat," he said.
"You're so wrong," I said. "He left the band as did Greg Steele, and I do miss seeing Greg on stage with his shirt untied, but I've moved on."
Taime Downe is the only original member, but, Chad Stewart, Danny Nordahl, Xristion Simon have been around for fifteen years! Isn't that a little longer than the original band stayed together? Now, Ace Von Johnson has been involved for six.
The band lives on, and there's no reason to dwell on the ones that didn't stick around.
"It's okay for LA Guns to have new members, but, it's not okay for Faster Pussycat?" I questioned his logic.
"I'm just saying it's not the same with Brent," he said.
"Don't touch my legs," I said pointing my finger close to his face.
He quickly moved his hands away from my thighs and bought a second round of drinks. And that's when he made his second mistake. Accusing me of lying about my age, even when I showed him my ID, he said it was a fake. I get it, I don't look forty, but I sure as hell wouldn't tell you I was forty if I was lying about my age.
Finally, he decided it was time to go.
"Where are you going?" I asked. "The show hasn't started."
"Going home, it's too late and it's not worth staying."
With that, he was gone and I was free to enjoy the show without a crab by my side.
The curtains drop and the guitars start screaming and music takes control over the crowd, and I watched the show from the lens of my camera.
There's something about hearing the words "pussy is powerful thing" that pulls me into their world and forces me to forget I'm a feminist, and I should be offended by their words but I'm not. Instead, I'm liberated. Maybe it was the pineapple rum concoctions I had to drink, but I doubt it because the lyrics to their songs seduce my mind, activate my imagination, and confuse me. I'm an introvert, and an asexual, I'm not supposed to be attracted to men, but I am when I'm at Faster Pussycat show, and I like the way that feels.
I've casually met the guys before and have met with Ace once - so far I've learned that they're a great group of men that are able to respect woman while partying.
I admit I'm not a professional photographer and I may never be. I will also admit it's been a few years since I've invested time taking pictures with a Nikon, plus I've upgraded. I wouldn't mind spending every night at a show, walking through an unforgiving crowd that's desperate to be as close to the stage as possible- as I shoot the band bounce around the stage; lights switching from pinks and greens and blues and smoke spraying all over the stage. It's a new challenge I welcome into my world. I think the smoky shots tell a unique story about Faster Pussycat. They are, after all, known to a be a sleazy, dirty, trashy, whiskey-chugging band from the gutters of Hollywood.
If there is anything I can say about seeing the same band two different nights in two different cities, it's that there's a change of energy. The crowd brings something different out of the band. Honestly, of the three shows I've seen them this past year, this was my favorite night.
Sometime past midnight, LA Guns decided to hit the stage. They were loud, "lewd and crewd" and energetic.
I had been waiting for years to see my (teenage) favorite singer, Phil Lewis. And he didn't fail to impress. Perhaps I was a bit star-struck, standing there with my camera in my hand and my eyes glued to the man belting out songs I've known every lyric to since I was fourteen.
Every band has a song that touches a deep part of your heart. When they played, "The Ballad of Jane," I luckily succeeded at composing myself. I never met Phil Lewis nor have I ever had the chance to talk to him about the meaning of the song, but, today, the song is a reminder of my late niece. She was stillborn eight years ago, and I've thought of her every time I've heard the song since her death.
Perhaps the best part of the night was when they were joined by their good friends Ace, and Chad Stewart to cover the song "Purple Rain" - in honor of Prince. If you haven't seen the full video floating around yet, you'll have to check out my Twitter page to see the very short teaser clip I got at @GenevieveRoxx.
I left alone not long after the show with a full heart, and a mind full of unanswered questions. Interesting. I'm writing a rock star erotic novel, yet, there was nothing erotic about my reality last weekend. Luckily my novel is more entertaining.
When I got home on Sunday, I made one last attempt to find my friend- and I found her. Exchanging messages with her that night, and telling her about seeing the two bands over the weekend was the probably the perfect way to end the my '80s weekend excursion, considering that's what I did when were pen pals back in the day.
I couldn't wait to see Phil Lewis with his new LA Guns men. But, first, I had to make one final attempt at finding my friend. So I went to the local library, perhaps they had archives of wedding announcements or worse, an obituary. Instead, the young man that helped me only had a yearbook for me to look at, and all I found was her middle initial under her senior picture. He advised I look at all the sites I've endlessly checked- and off I went with very little information in my pocket.
I've learned that time moves fast when you're traveling and before I knew it- I was at Revolution Music Hall in Amityville, Long Island.
Now, this is where things are going to get interesting. I'm blunt, what can I say, I'm a writer and I don't believe in censorship.
I felt invisible in a crowded bar. No I do not feel entitled nor do I believe I deserve royal treatment, but, it pisses me off to see a group of men, or women, hovering over chairs, using them to lean
on, and denying the right to anyone wishing to sit. Instead of causing a scene, I ignored them and walked away to observe the stage area. Because who knows, maybe they were saving seats for someone else, and the opening bands were on the stage after-all.
Revolution is a cool smaller bar, I loved the ambiance. It was by far the best scene I've been in a long time; but I worried about space and how I'd be able to move around the crowd to score decent pictures of the band from many angles. I was then interrupted by a fat boy who took up a few minutes of my time talking to me about my camera.
"Do you want to sit down and have a drink with me?" He asks."Finally," I thought to myself and accepted his offer.
Minutes later, he decides to start complaining.
"Can you believe LA Guns starts at midnight?" he asked.
"So? This is New York," I said. "If you want a seven o'clock show go to New Hampshire."
"This isn't New York, it's Long Island," he said rolling his eyes, shaking his head, laughing.
"Ah, it's still New York?" I said. "It's New York!"
"I don't really care too much about Faster Pussycat," he said.
"What? Why?" I asked.
Then, he made the mother of all mistakes.
"They're a cover band," he said.
"What in the damn hell did you say?" I shook my head and debated with him for a few minutes.
"Faster Pussycat is nothing without Brent Muscat," he said.
"You're so wrong," I said. "He left the band as did Greg Steele, and I do miss seeing Greg on stage with his shirt untied, but I've moved on."
The band lives on, and there's no reason to dwell on the ones that didn't stick around.
"It's okay for LA Guns to have new members, but, it's not okay for Faster Pussycat?" I questioned his logic.
"I'm just saying it's not the same with Brent," he said.
"Don't touch my legs," I said pointing my finger close to his face.
He quickly moved his hands away from my thighs and bought a second round of drinks. And that's when he made his second mistake. Accusing me of lying about my age, even when I showed him my ID, he said it was a fake. I get it, I don't look forty, but I sure as hell wouldn't tell you I was forty if I was lying about my age.
Finally, he decided it was time to go.
"Where are you going?" I asked. "The show hasn't started."
"Going home, it's too late and it's not worth staying."
With that, he was gone and I was free to enjoy the show without a crab by my side.
The curtains drop and the guitars start screaming and music takes control over the crowd, and I watched the show from the lens of my camera.
There's something about hearing the words "pussy is powerful thing" that pulls me into their world and forces me to forget I'm a feminist, and I should be offended by their words but I'm not. Instead, I'm liberated. Maybe it was the pineapple rum concoctions I had to drink, but I doubt it because the lyrics to their songs seduce my mind, activate my imagination, and confuse me. I'm an introvert, and an asexual, I'm not supposed to be attracted to men, but I am when I'm at Faster Pussycat show, and I like the way that feels.I've casually met the guys before and have met with Ace once - so far I've learned that they're a great group of men that are able to respect woman while partying.
I admit I'm not a professional photographer and I may never be. I will also admit it's been a few years since I've invested time taking pictures with a Nikon, plus I've upgraded. I wouldn't mind spending every night at a show, walking through an unforgiving crowd that's desperate to be as close to the stage as possible- as I shoot the band bounce around the stage; lights switching from pinks and greens and blues and smoke spraying all over the stage. It's a new challenge I welcome into my world. I think the smoky shots tell a unique story about Faster Pussycat. They are, after all, known to a be a sleazy, dirty, trashy, whiskey-chugging band from the gutters of Hollywood.
If there is anything I can say about seeing the same band two different nights in two different cities, it's that there's a change of energy. The crowd brings something different out of the band. Honestly, of the three shows I've seen them this past year, this was my favorite night.
Sometime past midnight, LA Guns decided to hit the stage. They were loud, "lewd and crewd" and energetic.
I had been waiting for years to see my (teenage) favorite singer, Phil Lewis. And he didn't fail to impress. Perhaps I was a bit star-struck, standing there with my camera in my hand and my eyes glued to the man belting out songs I've known every lyric to since I was fourteen.
Every band has a song that touches a deep part of your heart. When they played, "The Ballad of Jane," I luckily succeeded at composing myself. I never met Phil Lewis nor have I ever had the chance to talk to him about the meaning of the song, but, today, the song is a reminder of my late niece. She was stillborn eight years ago, and I've thought of her every time I've heard the song since her death.
Perhaps the best part of the night was when they were joined by their good friends Ace, and Chad Stewart to cover the song "Purple Rain" - in honor of Prince. If you haven't seen the full video floating around yet, you'll have to check out my Twitter page to see the very short teaser clip I got at @GenevieveRoxx.
I left alone not long after the show with a full heart, and a mind full of unanswered questions. Interesting. I'm writing a rock star erotic novel, yet, there was nothing erotic about my reality last weekend. Luckily my novel is more entertaining.
When I got home on Sunday, I made one last attempt to find my friend- and I found her. Exchanging messages with her that night, and telling her about seeing the two bands over the weekend was the probably the perfect way to end the my '80s weekend excursion, considering that's what I did when were pen pals back in the day.
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