Evan Tanner. Remembrance.

Posted: September 9, 2009

It has been 1 year since Evan Tanner passed away. Those of you who keep up on such things you will remember why you supported this guy so damn hard. For those of you who are not followers of the fight game in general or MMA specifically I encourage you to take the time to check out this article. Evan Tanner was a remarkable man. I believe that his legacy must be shared.

Follow the link and scroll down the page to find the article.


Sunday Nov.15 will be NYC at La Poisson Rouge. Monday the 16th will be in Austin at Emos. I will play a song, “Pyramid Of The Moon”, of off the album in its entirety on my radio show this Thursday.

You will find it here.

Stayed tuned for more live dates.
Love Hurts.

Posted: September 3, 2009

As we approach another what looks to be painful year of Oakland Raider professional football, I feel that I must purge myself of the pain that can be be incurred when you love something and you forget why.

I know why I love the Raiders, when I was little kid I was drawn to the colors(long before I had even seen California, let alone made my bones in Oakland) the Silver and Black. No two better colors exist(yeah, yeah I know blacks not a color, tell that to Louis Farrahkan or the KKK) fucking period. When you mix that with the logo and the renegades that made up the Oakland Raiders of the 1970’s you have an easy identity for a 9 year old lover of KISS,Alice Cooper, and the smell of gasoline. When my path eventually landed me in Oakland in the mid 80’s the Raiders were long gone but the power remained in the city. My vagabond lifestyle made it so I completely missed the 2 Super Bowl victories in LA, it seemed like a good time to get back in the boat, as they were down in the dumps and I never liked a front runner. Through the rest of the 80’s and early 90’s the mystique never failed me and on there return to Oakland I was right there with the rest of the diehards that had been in the trenches, on the streets , in the jails and prisons(you haven’t lived until you are booked into San Diego Co. Jail in head to toe Raider gear on the day the Raiders are playing the Chargers, been there and fucking done that) welcoming them home to the claim the crown of the scourge of the Bay Area that was and is Oakland.

We had a moment when things seemed to be breaking our way, we had a great team, a leader in John Gruden and a sense of destiny surrounded our team and our town. Within the course of 3 years we were the victims of the most bullshit and fixed call since “the immaculate reception” , thank you New England(hows Darryl Stingley doing?), the loss of our great coach due to yet another power move by our totally fucking wakka doo owner(a whole ‘nother post in and of itself), and a loss against the worst possible opponent in a Super Bowl that we could have ever dreamed of, would have one against anyone else.

Since that day we have fallen to point of death. Wearing my Jack Tatum jersey is like walking through a firestorm of laughter and degradation… but then I am reminded when I see these pictures of truth that this isn’t about wether you win or lose its about how you play the fucking game and we as Oakland Raider Fans(short for fanatic) show up with our game on every goddamn day. Silver and Black still pumps through my veins, ’til death do us part.
Angel Of Death.

Posted: August 16, 2009

I don’t remember hearing Hank Williams that often around the house when I was a kid. My Dad was a Waylon and Willie guy, so I was more or less raised on 3rd generation country music, of the “Outlaw” variety. I wouldn’t discover David Allan Coe, Townes Van Zandt, Kris Kristofferson and those guys until I revisited my roots in my late 20’s. Johnny Cash was on TV every Saturday night so I was always well aware of him, but I didn’t realize his true majesty until much later.

Country music always sounded good to me, I always had a place in my heart for songs like “Luckenbach, Texas”, “Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain”, and “I May Never Pass This Way Again” they were simple songs that captured raw emotion. They were presented in such a direct, honest way that they were unforgettable. Even at my most jaded times as a young man, I still liked to hear those songs. They always connected me to my blood. Even when I wanted nothing more then to be as far away from my blood as possible. There is something to be said for that in and of itself. Music speaks to a deeper nature within you and the more direct the it is the more it resonates in the truth of your soul.

I own every song that Hank Williams ever wrote. Every night for 3 years I would fall asleep to his songs, in a time when I honestly had too say goodbye to the world every time I went to sleep because I thought I would not make it to the next day, Hank guided and protected my spirit in my rest. He wrote something like 150 perfect songs and was dead at 29. The depth and soul in his music speaks to my belief that music is a gift given to those who are willing to submit to its will. There is no other explanation.

Posted: July 30, 2009

Nov. 14 at The Empty Bottle in Chicago,Ill.


Posted: July 21, 2009

Its been a couple of months since I have given in to the writer in me. I am going to try to be more diligent about this but life often interferes with my plans so no promises, as I said in the beginning of this blog, I will write when the spirit moves me…

I buried my sister a week ago. She was a warrior. She lost her final battle somewhat willingly but her spirit is something that will carry on in me and the rest of us eternally. I have many favorite memories of her I would like to share with you 2 of them…

The first time I met her I was 8 years old and living on the East Coast, we had different Mothers and she was a wild child(my Dad had a couple of them) so I hadn’t had the chance to meet her yet. I was home alone and there was a knock on the door, I crept up to the window beside the door and saw the unmistakable twinkle in her eyes that I had only known from photographs that my Dad had shown me.

She saw me and said “Hey I’m yer sister let me in”.

I was so excited to finally meet this person who already was a legend in the family, my very own flesh and blood. She had been hitchhiking around and she was with some guy who I only remember as being a little bit scary, but I didn’t care about him, I just wanted to meet my sister. We went into the house and I remember her being super funny and very nervous about seeing my Dad(you would be too), she asked me if we had any food and she started making sandwiches, it was the first time I ever had a fluffer-nutter. We sat on the floor of the kitchen and ate and laughed as if we had known each other for ever. When we were done she asked me if I wanted some dessert(I was in a state of bliss) I of course said yes and she took a bowl and filled it to the top with whipped cream.
Thats about all I can remember from that day because for rest of the afternoon, we were in the backyard, she was laughing her ass off as I ran and ran and ran in circles in the backyard burning sugar from my blood like a crackhead with a $50 rock.

Flash forward 20 years. Over the the time that passed since our first time meeting we had become very close, her and I were very alike in our lifestyles and our passions. She was such a big hearted person, she had seemingly endless love to give to those who she chose to share it with. At this point in time we both had Families of our own, I had my 2 oldest and she had her 3.

Her youngest was a beautiful girl who had been born with Downs Syndrome. I always respected how she was treated within the my sisters Family. Inside she was always cared for and loved, never treated any different then anyone else, but the humor of our blood was always intact. So as to say that there were more then enough funny things that a child with such and affliction will do, and none of us were made to be afraid to laugh when the happened, never to shame only to release the confusing and painful emotion that stays in your body when you are dealing with a situation like this.
As the child grew she became a unstoppable Family favorite, always at the center of everything and the most loving, hugging, kissing, laughing person I have ever known. When she hit her teens things began to get more difficult for her socially, as you could imagine, and her Family surrounded with protection and safety. Her siblings are 2 of the best hearted people I have ever known.
When the public schools started to try get my sister to put her in a special placement, she refused. They said that a child like this would never learn to read. My sister taught her to read. They said that a child like this could never learn to write or add. My sister proved them wrong. At every turn the schools protested and tried to keep her out of the main stream.

My sister said what she said anytime someone told her something like that “Fuck You”.

At 18 we had a high school graduate, as proud a moment as you could possibly imagine. My sister knew how important it was for this child to do this and for the other people who fought against to see what was possible.
It was a struggle that was defined within struggle itself.

My sister was a fighter, born and bred, from the cradle to the grave she always did as she saw fit. She never backed down from anyone or anything. I am left with a lot of regret of time that I missed with her, but we both were busy doing shit. We loved each other to the end and thats all that counts.
I will never forget the twinkle in her eyes and I will never see a twinkle quite like that again.

Posted: April 30, 2009

 After a 2 month hiatus I have returned to the airwaves on KMBT Radio. If you feel it then check it out.

Beyond The Pale at Roadburn April 25, 2009

Posted: April 21, 2009

 There is an extremely interactive blog that will be updated by the bands/artists throughout the festival. Please take the time to check this out if you would like a unique look at what goes down over the weekend in Tilborg. Be well.

The Need.

Posted: April 14, 2009

To bleed. 

All the time. 

To get out the bad blood and renew from the source. 
Fresh images expressed to my brain. 
Old pictures imprinted from the path of my soul.
Relive the wars.
Declare the promise that never strays.
Let it flow as it should, let it stain as should, let it grow as it should, let it spill from my heart.
Deepest Red.

Posted: April 8, 2009

 She was abandoned by her teenage Father when she was 1 year old. He would try to make it right, but he could not reverse the the damage he had done.

She never forgave him.
He will never forgive himself.

 She lived a full life. Experiencing all that she could find. Repeating the pain of her abandonment with every man in her Fathers wake. Destroyed. Degraded. Left in a ditch. Left in a trailer. Over and over again. 

Her fire raged.

She couldn’t stop the pain. 
She loved her people. 
She could not love herself. 

 She couldn’t see herself, because if she had she would have known the dream that I saw in her eyes. She would have known the sun that she brought to me in her smile. 

She fought through it all. Fierce.

 The first time I met her she stole some candy and gave it to me. She made me laugh. She always made me feel like I was okay. She was my mirror, and for the first time, I liked what I saw.
Her heart was deepest red.

 As the years took their toll, the wounds cut to the core. The weight of it all was unbearable. The losses were insurmountable. 

The decisions of the past reverberate in eternity.

 Today she will know that she will soon be gone. That it will all finally be over. The struggle is given, the outcome has been written. Time will always take its share in the end. 
 I wish for her to haunt me. I want her twinkle in my eye. I want her ghost in my dreams. I want her laugh in my soul. I wish for her pure heart to feel the grace of light. Please let the pain die first.

Let her children shine.