Duff McKagan's Column In Seattle Weekly

[FunkyMonkey]

Starting Over

By Duff McKagan in Duff McKagan

Thursday, Dec. 31 2009

Somehow, I had to turn everything around. Two weeks spent in the hospital doing a no-blink stare confronted with the fact that things in my life would have to change drastically left me exhausted, confused, and actually somewhat exhilarated.

In my 20s, there were two things I never really had to come to grips with or deal with: taking responsibility for my actions and thinking about what I would do other than music. I just didn't think that I would be around to deal with this shit.

After being mired in and shackled with the constant blackness of drugs and drink for as long as I was, a person just gives up. Sure, there is a weird hope for things like a miracle cure, but that is as close as you get to hope. A tragic event is more likely the case. And bracing for something like death happening to you gets somewhat softened by the cushioning narcotic fuzz. But suddenly here I was: sober and in a doctor's care, my two-week withdrawal softened by intravenous morphine for the pain and Librium for the delirium tremors.

They released me from the hospital in May of 1994 with the hope that I would go directly to a drug and alcohol rehab that they had set up for me somewhere near Olympia. I thanked my doctor for all his help. The two weeks alone in the hospital had done as much for me as any rehab could possibly do. I was done. This was the break and miracle I had lost all hope of attaining. Now that I had been given this slight reprieve and separation from the putrid terror of addiction, it was time to turn some shit around--but how?

Back in the winter of '94, I had bought a house back home in Seattle, the place that I had hoped a miracle would happen--a house that I would either die soon in or have a family in. Two diametrically opposed situations, for sure, but such was my structure of thought back then. Here I finally was now, in my home and sober with a chance of starting it all anew.

One of the first things I did was go to the grocery store to buy food. It was a novel idea at the time, for I hadn't really shopped for food in about 10 years. Now here I was, 30 years old, and probably doing the first good grocery shopping in my life. I was an adult with a credit card, a checkbook, and an ATM card. I could buy whatever I wanted in the store, but I had no idea where to start. I thought that everyone was staring at me. It had been so long that I had been anywhere sober that I didn't know how to act or how to deal. It was like being on LSD. The lights in the store were blaringly bright to me and the music seemed to be playing hidden messages. I bought some milk and barbecue sauce and cigarettes, and that is all. My shirt was drenched in sweat and I was having a full-blown panic attack. As I drove my car home, I stiffly steered my machine out of the way of three accidents as I rode the brakes the whole way. I could smell my brake pads when I got home.

Something that I never really thought about was that just simply functioning in life again was going to be my biggest hurdle. I guess you always think that avoiding bars and drug dealers and the craving will be the things that impede sober progress. Yes, though those things would be a challenge, I first had to figure out things like what time to go to bed and what to do with my time. How was I going to play music again? Could I do it sober? How do I talk to someone on the phone now? Who do I call? Should I tell people that I am sober? Should I just go away somewhere and disappear? How do people view me after living such a reckless existence? What the fuck should I do?

My band, Guns N' Roses, was in shambles, and suddenly the dynamic had changed. Not too long after I got out of the hospital, Axl came up to Seattle to visit me. The challenge was how we were going to make a new record and what direction we were going to go musically. We couldn't very well do anything at the time because Slash was out doing a Snakepit tour and battling his own addiction. In previous years, there had seemed to be a fail-proof alliance and understanding within our band; we knew that at the end of the day we only had each other to rely on. Now I was doing sober things with Axl, like riding mountain bikes and eating healthy food and talking on the phone about a productive musical direction. That sense of family and trust had recently been tainted by management dealings and other wedges that did everything possible to vanquish our bonds.

Looking back now, it is all so fucking clear. But then and there in the moment, I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that outside forces could be so selfish and money-grubbing. These were the hard lessons I would finally learn to live with, although never by.

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2009/12/starting_over.php

[Fingers]

This is around the time it had split I think to form Axl and Duff on one side and Slash, Gilby, and Matt on the other side-if you remember Axl said he and Duff had kind of walked out on recording-Beggars and Hangers On does list Duff with a songwriting credit

[Pine Barrens]

Thanks for posting these, by the way.  Love reading 'em.

[FunkyMonkey]

From Seattle Weekly extra...

Duff McKagan: I've Been Listening to Queensryche, Judas Priest, and Motorhead

By Duff McKagan in Duff McKagan

Queensryche, "Gonna Get Close To You," (Rage For Order): I was a real late-comer to Queensryche (to put in lightly). Not until last year, when Sean Kinney took me to a QR show at the House of blues in LA, did I finally understand the full power of this band. "Close To You" was a stand out that night.

Judas Priest, "Hellion," (Best of Judas Priest): Kick-ass metal. I wasn't exposed to a ton of heavy metal in my teens, but JP was a band that we punkers in Seattle could totally appreciate.

Motorhead, "Emergency," (Ace of Spades): Motorhead rules and no one really needs to say anything more!

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2010/01/duff_mckagan_ive_been_listenin_3.php

[FunkyMonkey]

New Year, New Dog, New Furniture

By Duff McKagan Thursday, Jan. 7 2010 @ 3:44AM

​For the last 10 years, my wife and I have dreamed and schemed and saved to remodel our 83 year-old Germanic Tudor house in Seattle. While yes, I did buy this house back in 1994 before I had a real prospect of a wife and kids, my hope was in fact that one day it would happen. It did.

The house was a fine size when both the girls were tiny, but as they grew, the walls just seemed to get a little closer and the ceilings not quite as high as I once thought. My first thought and hope was to put a new master bedroom where our massive attic is, extending the staircase up a floor and adding a master bathroom and huge windows to an even bigger view that we'd now have.

After shopping around, we found a great architect who instantly saw our vision and enhanced our dream with structural ideas that we neophytes had no idea could exist. Our next step was city permits and getting bids from able contractors, which went along smoothly until we saw how much it would cost just for the structural support we would have to fortify from the foundation of the house. As they say in this business, it was cost-prohibitive. Yeah, expensive like nobody's business, in fact. The structural engineer barked out a price something like $450K. I drooped in my chair; my contractor saw that he was losing a client; and my architect apologized profusely. Four hundred and fifty thousand dollars before I was to add even one square foot?! A third-floor master was now definitely out of the question.

My contractor called me a few days after we had met with the structural engineer and got the bad news. He told us that he had an idea of just simply raising our ceilings, updating our second floor, and moving a few doorways. All this, he claimed, would really make things feel a lot bigger and roomier. We could put in new carpet and refinish our beautiful and original hardwood floors and walnut doors and trim. We could paint the house and restore some of the original ornate light sconces that had been just sitting in the basement, update our heating system, and even add air conditioning (our house gets sun all day in the summer). The price was right, and I knew from what I had seen of some of his other jobs that this contractor could work miracles on old Tudors. I agreed . . . let's move ahead!

For you who may read my column, you will certainly know that we McKagans have a little dog named Buckley. He is a great young lad, but as all dog owners do, we went through the hell of house-training a puppy. Buckley really didn't get the message for an exorbitantly long time. Finally he got it, and we can take him with us without having to worry that our little buddy will do his business in the house or hotel room.

Santa Claus brought our dog Buckley three years ago when our oldest daughter turned 9. Our younger daughter therefore has been pining for a dog of her own when she turned 9. Her logic was sound, and I am after all a sucker for my girls. She wanted a pug puppy, and last fall my wife and I started searching for a puppy that would be the perfect age at Christmastime. No small feat for a person who travels for a living. Checking out different litters of pugs from breeders in the Northwest while trying to tour is a royal pain in the ass! Ah, the things we do for our kids. But, back to the house.

The work began on our second floor this past fall, and would be done by December 15, in time for us to come back to Seattle for Christmas. We came up a few times while the work was getting done; my wife picked out great carpeting and floor-stain colors, and we placed all the new wall-sconce lighting. The quality of work was second to none, and when we arrived for Christmas break, the house looked like a damn Four Seasons.

Stunning and pristine, all the wood and door hardware and light fixtures were buffed and shined. My daughters were elated over their new bedrooms. For the first time in our lives, they even started making their beds every morning and picking up their clothes off the floors without us telling them to do it. Buckley is of course housetrained, so we didn't have to worry about him. Wow, maybe we could have a house and lifestyle like you see in movies or Esquire magazine, where everything is perfect and clean, no one's hair is messy, and no one leaves their underwear on the floor or a dirty dish on the countertop. The house even smelled amazing!

The next step was to finally get some new furniture. The stuff we have has been worn hard and totally used and abused after 12 years with kids and a dog. Anyone who has kids knows it's a fool's dream to get new furniture when you have small children. Macaroni and cheese mixed with carpet and grape juice is a stain that will not come out, trust me.

Now that the house is clean and new ... we found a girl pug puppy a ferry-ride away that would be the perfect age by Christmas. Susan and I checked her out during Thanksgiving, and I made plans with the breeder to pick up the dog on Christmas Eve. My oldest brother kept the puppy for us on Christmas Eve night, and I picked her up early Christmas morning so that it would appear that Santa brought the pup (I did all this BEFORE the girls woke up). All of this went off without a hitch.

We have a rough idea of how to house-train a puppy from the Buckley debacle. But he is a mellow dog from a breed bred to be foot-warmers for the elite back in the 1600s. They were trained to just sort of sit around. Pugs, on the other hand, are quite the opposite. And we were all so excited to have a new dog that we sort of forgot that little puppies have to go to the bathroom ALL THE TIME and anywhere they please! Puppies are sneaky and quick, and little human girls will hide the fact that a new puppy pooped on the brand-new carpet in their room on numerous occasions because they don't want Pup to get in trouble or not be able sleep in their room. Little human girls will do anything so that the new dog can hang out in their rooms or on the couch with them for as long as possible. When a new dog pees in the house, the old dog will urinate right on top of it to mark its territory.

We just remodeled. We just started living in a clean house with potty-trained residents. And we go ahead bring home a baby pug. I guess the new furniture can wait.

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2010/01/new_year_new_dog_new_furniture.php

[Albert S Miller]

"A glutton for punishment" for sure , I probably would have put in some other type of flooring rather than carpeting, heated marble and tiles are lovely and clean up easy .

[lostdream]

Duff?s column is always such a great read.

I can?t stop laughing right now. So funny.....I know exactly what he?s talking about...a young dog and a girl trying to "hide" the dog?s "little mistakes". Reminds me BIG TIME of myself at that age.  And of course the dog. And my shouting mother and my smiling dad.....    

[FunkyMonkey]

Duff visited Gilby in the hospital...

The Wheels on My Bike ...

By Duff McKagan in Duff McKagan Thursday, Jan. 14 2010 @ 9:10AM

A couple of years ago, I became the proud owner of a black 2006 Harley-Davidson Road King motorcycle. And why not? I am sober and of relatively good faculties and judgment. A lot of my good friends ride motorcycles, and I would sometimes feel left out. No, the time was definitely perfect for me to start my life as a motorcycle enthusiast.
The man who has produced everything Loaded has ever done is Martin Feveyear. Jupiter, his studio here in Seattle, lies in the heart of Wallingford, and in summer the area becomes a veritable crossroads for bikers going to and from anywhere else in Seattle. In 2001, I made the first Loaded record with Martin, and he would lay out photos of a bike, still in pieces, that he was putting together. The story goes that this same bike had been in Martin's family from the day he was born in the south of England. It was a 1951 Sunbeam SX, and his family's lone mode of transportation!

Some of Martin's first memories are of him and his sister riding in a sidecar attached to the old Sunbeam with his mom and dad on the bike. For family vacations, they would hook a trailer to the back, sometimes stopping to push the whole contraption up long hills in the English countryside. That bike just didn't have the horsepower for a family of four, a sidecar, AND a trailer.

By 2001, Martin's dad had shipped the whole bike in pieces to Martin, who was going to do his best to fix the broken bits and put it all back in working order. I only say that Martin was going to do his best, because while he is exceedingly proficient in the studio, a mechanic he is not. By trial and many errors, though, Martin did eventually succeed in getting the 'Beam back in tip-top shape, and to this day that bike gets him around town probably 60 percent of the time. He even took his 6-year-old daughter back to England this year and put her in the sidecar of a vintage Sunbeam, and together they toured the country. Pretty cool.

My point to the Martin story is that I watched all this go down, and started to query myself why I wasn't riding. That is when I got my bike. Sure, I had ridden motorcycles before, but was in no way an expert. During my late teens and 20s, I would say that it was a GREAT and GENIUS thing that I did NOT have a motorcycle. That would have been an accident waiting to happen. Besides, you can't drink a cocktail or all those other bad things while shifting gears on a bike. The one time I did get on a bike during this era was when I got on a cop's bike during a GN'R video shoot ("Don't Cry," I think). The poor cop was just working the shoot, and he let me take his bike for a spin. I crashed it...

It wasn't just Martin who inspired me. A lot of my friends in Seattle would get their bikes out of the garage and fire them up and gallivant around town, while I was seemingly missing out on all the fun (FYI, spring in Seattle is anytime it gets over 40 degrees and it's not raining).

A year and a half ago, my band Velvet Revolver did a summer co-headlining tour with Alice in Chains, whose drummer, Sean Kinney, is one of those Seattle bike friends I'm talking about. Over the past several years we have become good friends, and this tour gave us a chance to hang out a lot together. He and I and his drum tech, Tavis LeMay, all decided to bring our motorcycles on that tour, and I got to ride around a ton of beautiful parts of the U.S.

It's funny how places where usually you would just sit around backstage all day could suddenly transform because of access via two wheels with friends. Riding in a state park in Alabama instead of listening to drums getting tuned all day over a PA system is a good thing indeed. On days off, we would ride around in whatever city we were in and go to dinner or whatever else. It staved off the loneliness of being apart from my family while opening up a great new view of places I had been before but never really seen.

I found a great deal on a sleeker and faster bike down here in Los Angeles last year. L.A. is no doubt a much more dangerous place to ride, because people in cars down here are reckless drivers in a big way. I got a call yesterday that my friend Gilby Clarke (a former GN'R guitarist) got in a bad motorcycle accident when a truck pulled out and took a left in front of him. When I went to see him in the hospital on Monday night, Gilby further told me that the guy in the truck just took off, leaving the scene of the accident. My friend "Biker" Tim (whom I have written about in previous columns), also got in a bike accident recently. Maybe I will sell this bike down here after all.

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2010/01/the_wheels_on_my_bike.php

[CheapJon]

Taking Iraq War Vets to the Summit
By Duff McKagan in Duff McKagan, Thursday, Jan. 21 2010 @ 8:51AM

​In the past, I have written a few times about some of the adventures I have been able to experience because of my friend Tim Medvetz. For those of you who don't know him from the Discovery Channel series Everest Beyond the Limit that aired a couple of years ago, he was not only a team member of that Mt. Everest expedition, he also summited the mountain in 2007--an amazing feat for anyone, and for this man in some respects even more so.

I met Tim a few years ago through a mutual best friend, Richard Stark, and it immediately became evident that we shared the same sense of adventure and humor. Tim was fresh from summiting Everest, and I was full of questions for him that night (mixing humor and wanderlust from me may come in the form of "Everest, huh? Cool! Was it high?" Stupid for sure, but Tim dug my line of questions/humor . . . I think).

Later that summer, Tim and Richard rode their Harleys through Seattle and stayed with the family McKagan (our house is now dubbed "Northwest headquarters" because, well, with Richard and Tim, what is mine is theirs and likewise). This prolonged hangout gave Tim and me more time to work on our comedic duo routine, and it gave me time to learn a bit more about Tim.

You see, Tim and Richard were to be taking a ferry from Bellingham up to Alaska, where they would continue their bike trip across Canada and down to New York. It turns out that when this ferry gets to Alaska, one must drive through a slice of Canada to get back into Alaska again. Well, this is when I found out Tim used to be a member of a very famous outlaw bike gang . . . er, club. Canada doesn't allow those kind, apparently, and Tim and Richard found themselves face-down with guns drawn on them at that border, and eventually back on that same three-day ferryride, southbound, back to the Northwest headquarters.

His story since 2001 is pretty unbelievable.

In September 2001, Tim got hit by a car while riding his motorcycle down here in L.A. He suffered tremendous head, back, and leg injuries. He woke up in the hospital only to see a bunch of nurses and doctors gathered around the TV set in his room. As his vision started to clear, he became cognizant of the images of a Trade Center building in NYC falling to the ground. He faced that same despair we all felt, and on top of that, the doctors said they would have to amputate a foot, put a steel plate in his head, and put a steel-mesh cage around his lower spine.

After being threatened with grievous bodily harm, the doctors found a way to save Tim's foot, but only just. His ankle is fused permanently. Doctors told him that his physical activities would forever be limited to a couch, basically. Ah, but Tim was reading Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer while he was in that hospital bed, and vowed then and there to climb Mt. Everest.

After being discharged, Tim went to Brazil to study jiujitsu with the Grace family for two years, AND became a certified dive instructor and skydiver. I think he did some time in a Brazilian prison too . . . just for kicks.

After his stint in Brazil, he came back to NYC to run the door at the world famous Hogs and Heifers bar before departing to Nepal to learn the ropes of high-altitude climbing. He also spent six months in veritable silence in a monastery there. Silence is not Tim's strong suit. His time in Nepal was followed by a year in Thailand at a live-in kickboxing school. It was now time for him to somehow get up Everest.

Tim joined a team that was going to attempt Mt. Everest in 2006, and maybe this incredible story should be left to another stand-alone column. Suffice it to say nothing comes easy to Tim, and his journey through India to get to Katmandu was filled with scrapes and triumphs. When he did finally get on the team, it turned out that The Discovery Channel happened to be filming this expedition. Tim eventually garnered worldwide fandom as the most intense and nonconforming member of that team. In 2007, he finally realized his hospital-bed dream and summited Mt. Everest.

Over the course of the following year, 2008, Tim, Richard, and I got together more and more often as friends who shared an interest in things like the outdoors, sports, and music. But most important, we all seem to share a sense of family, brotherhood, and honor, things that seem at times to be missing too often in this hyper-fast information age.

Eventually, Tim invited me on a training hike or two. It was on these hikes, and the times that Tim would come to visit my family, that I began to understand the true character that this man has somehow contained under that flesh. Tim got me up my very first winter summit last year, and without him being there, it would have been only a fraction of the fun. Honestly, I probably would not have made it to the top of that mountain without his humor-filled chiding and hard-won expertise.

I found out on these hikes another thing about Tim: He has another much grander and more selfless dream. After seeing a TV special on U.S. soldiers who have lost limbs in Iraq and Afghanistan, Tim was inspired to get up and at least try to help. Remember, Tim was told that he would be an invalid himself. He knew what these kids were facing emotionally when they finally got back home to their mom's couch in Minnesota or wherever, limbless and aimless and suffering myriad emotional difficulties.

Tim has now started a foundation where he himself will attempt all the world's seven highest summits WITH a wounded veteran along for the climb. We are talking about single and double-leg amputees--young men who want to overcome for themselves and carry the message home to their fallen brethren. A message of hope and inspiration, if nothing else.

Over this last year, I have ridden along with Tim on the ups and downs and highs and lows of trying and finally succeeding in getting his "Heroes Project" up and running. Last week he came over to the house with a hand-shot DVD of his first two "Seven Summit" attempts with wounded U.S. veterans of the Iraq War. I was stunned by what I saw. I am proud of my friend.

Tim is a man who, through his own battles with injuries that could have set him back forever on a couch in a fit of despair and depression, really knows what these wounded warriors are up against. He does this not for glory for himself, but indeed, as I have gotten to really know Tim, for the betterment of mankind as a whole.

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2010/01/taking_iraq_war_vets_to_the_su.php#more

[Albert S Miller]

Thanks for posting this CheapJon, I noticed it was not available this morning and wanted to post it as well, but did not want to overstep my boundries, as Funkey always does this . 

What a miracle for Duff's good friend by the way.  I praise him for all his efforts and for taking the steps to make the world a better place for those who face the same challenges.  Nice uplifting story .

[FunkyMonkey]

Thanks for posting this CheapJon, I noticed it was not available this morning and wanted to post it as well, but did not want to overstep my boundries, as Funkey always does this . 

Please post the column if you see it, I just post stuff as I come across it.

Thanks CheapJon, it's a good one, and an incredible story.

[FunkyMonkey]

Duff for President...

The Future: Hawks, Rock, and a McKagan/Novoselic Ticket In 2012

By Duff McKagan Thursday, Jan. 28 2010

Sometimes I just can't find that one defining thing to write about. It is often at this point, when I can't focus, that I realize that a bunch of stuff is all going on at once. For instance:

Music: "I think records were just a little bubble in time, and those who made a living from them for a while were lucky. There is no reason why anyone should have made so much money from making records, except that everything was right for this period of time. I always knew that it would run out sooner or later. It couldn't last, and now it's running out. I don't particularly care that it is,` and like the way that it is going."
-- Brian Eno

I think what Eno is trying to get across here is that corporate music America got too fat and greedy, and pushed true art aside for the next big thing that would sell more copies rather than be an important and brave musical adventure. Oh, sure, Ticketmaster and Live Nation just completed a big merger this week (President Obama? Antitrust? Anyone?), but the major labels are in their death-rattle stage.

It is an exciting time for forward-thinking people to launch something new and righteous for their artists and highly accessible for the listeners. Good art will again prevail, because live shows will be what generate the income. Good art attracts large crowds. Large crowds buy more shirts. A band or artist can print their own shirts. Good art can be made available through online digital portals on the artist's terms. Vinyl is becoming very popular again. Good art can indeed support itself and flourish financially. That is good business. Fuck the major labels. Go support live music TODAY!

Football: Yes, I am a huge Seahawks fan, and knew in Week 4 or so that we didn't stand a chance in hell this season. It is at this point in a season that I try to find another team to sort of secretly pull for, a team that may have a chance of going to the playoffs and whose story I like.

This season, my auxiliary team was the Minnesota Vikings. I've liked Steve Hutchinson since he was here in Seattle, and, to be honest, me and every other 40-something male in America pulled for Brett Favre this year. We rooted for Favre because he is the last hope for guys like me. There is still a glimmer of hope that yes, I, Duff McKagan, could "suit up" for the NFL and hear the crowd absolutely roar as I cross the goal line after receiving an 80-yard slant-pass from some QB half my age, winning the Super Bowl for my beloved Seattle Seahawks and the 12th Man!

I cringed last Sunday as Favre took repeated punishment and the Vikings' hopes slipped out of Adrian Peterson's slippery hands. The Saints have a great story too this year, and so I suppose I will pull for them in the Super Bowl . . . I just hope that Favre comes back for another year. I don't want my football-watching couch to be a vantage point for watching dudes in their 20s next year. Unless of course it is watching all the genius draft picks that Pete Carroll gets, taking us all the way to the Super Bowl (or at least a winning season?). Until then, let's go, Mariners!

Side note: Before I get a whole rash of "old age" comments from you readers, the 40s ARE the new 20s, so suck it.

Obama: Well, here we go. According to almost every news channel and poll out there, America is getting somewhat disheartened with our Prez. I suppose I see some of the logic here. President Obama hasn't really taken a hard stance on ANYTHING to this point in office, and we were all expecting some sort of hard line on, at least, health-care reform or ?ber-transparency with the stimulus package. No. The Health Care Reform bill has been nothing but watered down since its first appearance last August (kowtowing to the Republicans when the Democrats had the majority vote all along. I still don't get that move. Too late now, though--Republican Scott Brown, of course, just won to fill the slot left vacant by Senator Ted Kennedy). A Republican winning a Senate seat in old-school Democratland Massachusetts does not bode well for Obama's party and popularity.

President Obama has shown this week that finance guru Tim Geithner may be falling out of his good graces. I am not sure who is to blame for the blunder, reported this week, about the "stimulus signs" that are appearing on our nation's highways. Apparently, with the money used to make these signs that PROMOTE the stimulus money creating jobs, we could have created hundreds and hundreds, maybe even thousands, of jobs actually FIXING the roadways. I hate this crap.

Hey, I haven't forgotten all the praise I have written here about Obama, and I still back him 100 percent. Our Republican right just seems a little dangerous and creepy right now. Maybe fellow Reverb columnist Krist Novoselic and I should run for office in 2012? We'd be kick-ass, and we could rock, too. I think this country needs tax incentives for business and lower taxes for citizens AND sweeping social programs. Let me work on that.

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2010/01/the_future_hawks_rock_and_a_mc.php

[FunkyMonkey]

^^Duff, We Don't Need More Politicians, We Need the Rock Party

By Krist Novoselic in Duff McKagan, Krist NovoselicTuesday, Feb. 2 2010 @ 2:00AM

​Dear Duff:

Thanks for including me on your political ticket. I like the idea of a McKagan /Novoselic candidacy--but I must respectfully decline. I don't believe we need more politicians--we need more people to become personally invested in the political process.

Continue here: http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2010/02/duff_we_dont_need_more_politic.php

Then from Duff:

Yes to the Rock Party!

By Duff McKagan Wednesday, Feb. 3 2010 @ 10:06AM

​Just to briefly respond to Mr. Novoselic's fine column this week: I think a Rock Party or some sort of political alliance that is community-based and not allowed to raise dough outside of itself is a great and brave idea. Too often these days, we are promised "transparency" or "change" in government, only to find these slogans as nothing more than marketing tools for an election.

Continue here: http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2010/02/yes_to_the_rock_party.php

[FunkyMonkey]

Duff McKagan: Underground Is the New Mainstream

By Duff McKagan in Duff McKaganThursday, Feb. 4 2010

Somebody asked me last week if I could open up for discussion the difference between "mainstream" success for a band or artist, and "underground" success. So here goes:
Back when I was a lad and punk rock was all the rage, the movement itself was self-supporting and eventually made its way to college FM radio, which was then a new and burgeoning way of spreading musical ideas.

In the early '80s, bands like R.E.M. and U2 were gaining speed on college radio as underground successes. They were selling records for their indie labels, and selling out shows on college campuses around the world. Of course, when you put the word "success" or "sales" up against a marketplace, nothing can really sustain its core underground-ness.

Major labels tried to capitalize on the success of the underground dollar by creating imprint indie labels. That is to say, the same major-label muscle with a new street cred name (GN'R's label, Geffen, created DGC sometime in 1986 or '87 just for this purpose. The Muffs or the Waterboys on Geffen Records would seem like a sellout to their fan base, but DGC? Well, that was fine!).

Mainstream success is basically the same deal. Artists and bands sometimes, and more commonly, want to be a mainstream success. This is where the possibility of the major dough can roll in, especially if one is unabashed by what commerce looks like to their public. Someone like Beyonce actually uses her fan base to sell perfume, clothes, makeup, and anything else. It's not a bad thing, either. She doesn't let her music suffer as a result, and can get away with it (a female audience like hers LIKES all these extras). Jay-Z, on the other hand, while achieving mainstream superstardom, stays far away from being perceived as selling out. Jay-Z WAS once a fairly underground rapper from Brooklyn. It seems that he wants at least a part of his art to still be perceived as underground and edgy.

Silversun Pickups and MGMT have an image of being underground, but both are on major labels, sell tons of records, and were up for major Grammy categories. "Alternative music" used to actually mean something. College radio WAS the alternative to, well, everything else. "Alternative" is now just another selling-tool catchphrase (kind of like "change" in politics!).

I still think that there are stalwarts in our industry who blend a good bit of mainstream and independence. Foo Fighters kind of do what they want, right? Nine Inch Nails for sure do. Alice in Chains paid for this latest record themselves, and licensed it out to a major label, enjoying the marketing that only a major label can afford.

Underground success, though, will soon be redefined, and, I am sure, become more of an indicator of overall success. Major labels are dying because of their shortsightedness, brought on when they introduced a digital format just to sell the catalogs of certain acts all over again. Little did they know in 1989 that every home would have a computer some five short years later. When Napster tried to make a deal with the majors on revenue-sharing through advertising on that site at the time (hundreds of millions of dollars in 1997), the majors buried their head in the sand and continued their lawsuit with Napster. Napster lost, and the floodgates of free content to everyone have never stopped, and never will. Artists are the smartest people when their backs are against a wall. Free music will serve as the new loss leader to bands trying to attract a larger audience.

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2010/02/duff_mckagan_underground_is_th.php

[Fingers]

I'm a terrible computer person and wont know how to do it-Duff has a moving story about the Nirvana 1992 MTV awards story if anyone can post it-in his most recent column

[CheapJon]

I'm a terrible computer person and wont know how to do it-Duff has a moving story about the Nirvana 1992 MTV awards story if anyone can post it-in his most recent column

ah, it's really simple man, just copy and paste!


All Apologies
By Duff McKagan in Duff McKagan     Thursday, Feb. 11 2010 @ 9:07AM

 I was in a recording studio the other day and had some time to kill. If I am not reading a book or writing, I will often scavenge around for a newspaper or magazine. On this day, I came across Cobain, a tribute put out by Rolling Stone some months after Kurt's death in 1994.

I can't really pinpoint the reasons, but suddenly there in that dingy studio, I was enthralled and emotional. I read this book from beginning to end, and while of course I remember this time well, I don't think the scope of the sadness came to me until this moment. A profound sadness that stirred up a lot of emotion that maybe I haven't dealt with yet. I don't know, to be honest.

I was on the same plane as Kurt on that flight up from Los Angeles a couple of days before his death. We were both fucked-up. We talked, but not in depth. I was in my hell, and he in his, and this we both seemed to understand.

When we arrived in Seattle and went to baggage claim, the thought crossed my mind to invite him over to my house then and there. I had a real sense that he was lonely and alone that night. I felt the same way. There was a mad rush of people there in public. I was in a big rock band, and he was in a big rock band. We were standing next to each other. Lots of people stopped to gawk. I lost my train of thought for a minute, and Kurt said good-bye and left to his waiting town car. His new house was right down the street from my new house. I received a call from my manager two days later that Kurt had died.

I suppose I was numb to this sort of thing at this point in my life. I had lost two of my best friends to drug overdoses. People in my own band had overdosed multiple times. My life and addiction were spinning out of control, and my body was failing in so many different ways. It is possible that I was incapable of feeling sadness, incapable of picking up the phone and calling Krist or Dave. In truth, I had such low self-esteem at that point, that I am sure I felt my call would have no impact on these fine men.

I had been really excited back in 1991 or so, when bands from my hometown of Seattle started to rise up and get recognized for magnificent music. I was proud because I knew the scene there was truly unique and self-supporting and open to new and different ideas.

A few years later, at the MTV Awards where my band and Nirvana both performed, I blew my lid when I perceived a slander toward my band from the Nirvana camp. In my drunken haze and drug-induced mania, I heard what I wanted to hear, and I went after Krist Novoselic backstage. I had no control of myself then. And Krist, I am sorry for that day.

Krist, my colleague and friend, I am so sorry for your loss, too. I am sorry I could not be your friend back then. We had so, so many things in common. We have so many things in common today.

I am sorry that I didn't have the faculties to just come up and talk to you at the MTV Awards in 1992. I was mad and insane then. My scope of dealing with any sort of conflict had narrowed down to barroom brawling. Kim "Fastback" Warnick, my mentor, called me the day after my embarrassment and scolded me for it. I felt so low. I simply did not know how to call you and apologize then. My dream of being in a band that everyone in the world believed in had come to life. The complications that came with that dream were also making themselves present. You were dealing with the same things I was. We could have had a lot to talk about together.

I am glad that you have overcome that mad season in your life. It takes a strong man to have that sort of devastation not permanently handicap you. Your band should have been one of those that kept setting new benchmarks for what a rock band is. Your career and vision was cut short. We musicians just don't talk about this kind of stuff, thinking maybe it's a little too touchy-feely. We are expected to just get over it. Why, don't we have piles of money to make ourselves feel better with? If only people knew.

I am not trying to embarrass you, Krist. Maybe I am only trying just now to come to grips and exorcise some of my own hidden monsters. I am glad that we are now friends and I hope that this part of the story will last a lifetime.

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2010/02/all_apologies.php#more

[LunsJail]

That last column was a great read. Good insight into some of the regret that stems from addiction.

[FunkyMonkey]

^^ Krist Novoselic's response to Duff:

Krist Novoselic: Kurt Cobain, Alexander McQueen, and Making Sense of It All

Friday, Feb. 12 2010

​Dear Duff,

No worries on the MTV music awards. There were all kinds of shenanigans going on. And I've been drunk and irresponsible myself too many times. That self-destructiveness can lurk in the shadows - lubricated by one substance or another.

I read your column and it brought up a lot of feelings for me and if we do look back, let's not forget the positive. I remember the time later in the 1990's when we crossed paths again at the Showbox. I said it was good to see you, and it was.

Moments after I read your column about Kurt, I read the news about Alexander McQueen and his shocking suicide. On top of that, there was another news report that the authorities found out who stole the "Arbeit Macht Frei" sign from the Auschwitz death camp. I stepped out to get some air and all this came together.

Kurt Cobain and Alexander McQueen were talented and successful individuals. They owned the world. But they obviously didn't see any value in what they had. There was something inside where things seemed futile.

Now imagine the life of those who suffered in the death camps? They were imprisoned starved, tortured, humiliated, raped - their loved ones died in front of their eyes! Yet people struggled to live. In fact, after the camps were liberated, many survivors went on to have productive lives and some are still living!

You can't be rational about suicide. It's hard to reconcile. When someone is murdered, you can get angry at the killer. This happens with suicide, but you're mad at both the victim and the perpetrator! It's the ultimate act of self-destruction.

Alexander McQueen was an excellent artist and craftsman who left us so much. His work promises to have a lasting influence on fashion in the 21st Century. In a way he lives.

They're putting the sign back on Auschwitz that we may never forget the suffering inflicted by an evil ideology - we also remember the triumph of so many individuals who pushed on in the face of the horrible atrocities of the camps. Again, when somebody take their own life, it's hard to make sense of things. It's a cruel paradox - that notorious sign that reads, "Work Sets You Free".

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2010/02/krist_novoselic_kurt_cobain_al.php

[FunkyMonkey]

Adventures in Capitalism and Greed

By Duff McKagan

 Feb. 18 2010

​"The whole labor of the world lies at their mercy--and like fierce wolves they rend and destroy, like ravening vultures they devour and tear! The whole power of mankind belongs to them, forever and beyond recall--do what it can and strive as it will, humanity lives for them and dies for them. They own not only the labor of society, they have bought the governments, and everywhere they use their raped and stolen power to entrench themselves in their privileges, to dig wider and deeper the channels through which the river of profits flows to them." --The Jungle, Upton Sinclair

Last weekend, for the first time, I finally watched Michael Moore's latest film Capitalism: A Love Story. Now to be fair, I watched this film on a plane that started its descent just as the film was getting to the poignant end--when we the people had finally spoken and elected Obama, therefore finally clamping down on the banking industry and all its villains and bad guys. Chuckle.

I'm sorry I'm so skeptical. It's just that in my view, and from what I've discovered avidly reading financial papers and textbooks, political office, lobbyists, Wall Street, and the banking industry are so interwoven and above reproach that unless Obama throws out Geithner and stages some sort of grand socialist /co-op work program on a national scale, we are just doomed to repeat the mistakes that led to our current crises. That is, if and when we get out of our current mess.

I read somewhere that as of late, banks were being called "casinos" because of the way they are gambling with people's money, but that would be unfair to casinos. Las Vegas must at least (by law) keep a specified amount IN RESERVE to cover their ass. The banking industry does not have the same regulation . . . you read me right.

Obama is not a dumb guy, and I hope he is right now studying flubs from the past to hopefully learn a thing or two about getting us all out of this crisis with the least amount of pain. I hope.

What has been happening to the global financial markets over the last 30 years or so is an almost conceited blindness to the failures of the past because of boom-time lust. What has happened recently in this credit crisis is not a product of failure. It is a product of success.

I believe Winston Churchill stated back in the late '40s that "Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all those other forms that have been tried from time to time." When General Eisenhower became president after the war, he instated a 90 percent tax against the richest of the rich here in the U.S.A. It paid for the war and built our interstate highway system, dams, and other massive infrastructure. In the 1950s, America was never so prosperous. Eisenhower was never questioned, because by God he won the fucking war! A 90 percent tax sounds a lot like what they do in Sweden and other "soft" socialist countries. [SO, IS THIS SOMETHING YOU'RE SUGGESTING WE SHOULD DO?]

Michael Moore points to a pretty poignant grand overview with his movie, though: The capitalist propaganda machine was cranked into high gear, selling it as being as American as apple pie. Maybe Obama can start cranking out propaganda that exhorts social programs and shared revenue. Are we ready to listen?

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2010/02/adventures_in_capitalism_and_g.php

[FunkyMonkey]

How a Recovering Addict Deals With Girl Scout Cookie Season

By Duff McKagan, Thursday, Feb. 25 2010

Most of you must know at this point that I have two daughters, 9 and 12. My 9-year-old has been a Brownie and a Girl Scout for the past three years. It's a really sweet endeavor that gives her some life tools that as a father I wouldn't even know how to begin to approach. It is ALL good.

Ah, but once a year, it becomes time for the Girl Scout Cookie campaign, and my darling little girl has become a crack sales-person, especially when it comes to me and all my guy friends who come over for Sunday football. Little girls just have a way of making grown men melt and do whatever the pigtailed princess wants. My daughter does very well in her fundraising campaign as a result.

For me, I always end up buying around 10 boxes of each flavor, and these days I think there are nine different flavors. Let me back up a little bit and inform you about my strict diet program that started about a week after I got sober in 1994. A diet that helped clean out my system and that I have stayed on because, well, I've just GOT to hang on to my girlish figure, don't I?

In my drinking and drug-using days, health and nutrition were completely foreign topics to me, and I was lucky if I ate a hot dog or Fritos once every two or three days. My view from that deep, addicted hole did not allow for much thought on cholesterol levels or bad carbs vs. good carbs. Clean food and vitamins were for those who planned to live past age 30, and there was no way, I thought, that I would be in that category.

Yeah. But I got my wake-up call in 1994, and suddenly I realized that maybe I was going to be one of those few guys who were going to live (the list of those like me was becoming too rarefied at that juncture). I've written here before about bits and pieces of my recovery, but a huge part of it was my diet. After putting so many harmful things into my body for so long, I needed to purge my system and begin to learn the process of nutrition and fueling my blood, organs, and muscle tissue to help me regain my health and reverse some of the damage done. I was also about 50 pounds heavier that I am now, and the weight I was carrying was NOT muscle. All the sugar from the tons of alcohol had left me with a spare tire of fat and bloat. NOT sexy.

A friend of mine turned me on to a diet that was being used for people with cancer and other diseases, who were showing a marked improvement by adhering to it. It consisted of watery fruits in the morning, greens with fish for lunch (no snacking!), greens with fish or free-range chicken for early dinner (no late-night food!), and LOTS of exercise!

This taught me how to eat three meals a day, and it really started to make me feel better. I could actually feel the nutrients as they entered my blood system. With the exercise and no carbs, my weight just started to drop off, and I could see muscle tone returning. This was all a huge victory for me, and I started to feel GREAT all the time.

Flash forward a few years, and my wife and I have small kids at home. New foods start to pile up in our pantry. Potato chips. Cookies. Ice cream in the freezer, chocolate around Halloween and Christmas. When you quit alcohol, there is still a huge craving for all the sugar you've just cut out, and for me it's a constant battle. Plenty of times I have downed a whole family-sized Hershey's chocolate bar with almonds in less than 10 minutes, much as I used to down a gallon of vodka. I always feel like absolute shit after these episodes, so I really make an effort to just not have chocolate or cookies in the house. If my wife or kids have the stuff, I literally ask them to hide it from me and not even let me know about it at all. Oh, but I just ordered 90 boxes of Thin Mints and chocolate macaroon cookies from my sweet little daughter, didn't I? They arrived two days ago. Fuuuuuuck!

That first night, I ate two whole boxes. I felt like that guy with melted chocolate all over his face and hands, crying uncontrollably, watching a sappy soap while listening to Celine Dion. Yesterday, I gave the cookies away, sheepishly, to some friends. The things a father will do. The things my head will do to me in the throes of chocolate mania.

P.S. My daughter got her Girl Scout badge to go along with my badge of shame that must have been outwardly visible to those friends I gave the cookies to.

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2010/02/how_a_recovering_addict_deals.php