Duff McKagan's Column In Seattle Weekly

[FunkyMonkey]

The Soul of a Man

By Duff McKagan, Thursday, Apr. 15 2010

​My wife and I watched a pay-per-view showing of the Robert De Niro movie Everybody's Fine the other night. It's a bittersweet portrayal of an aging widower's somewhat broken and fractured relationship with his four grown children. If you have a living father whom you maybe haven't called for a while, this movie would probably do the trick in prompting one to do it now, sooner rather than later.

I saw a feature on Headline News this morning about how the art of "manliness" is perhaps making somewhat of a comeback. Apparently the metrosexual phase in our society has given women a lower outlook on us men. They are thinking we are all just a bunch of wimps, fellas.

My relationship with my father was strained when Pop left us when I was about 7 or so. I was the last of eight kids, and the way I figured things as a boy was that I must have had something to do with it. That is what we do when we aren't old enough to see the bigger picture. The truth of the matter was that my parents' relationship was probably strained for years, and the perfect and idealistic stage in their marriage had probably ended sometime back in the 1940s. I didn't speak with my dad again, really, until I was about 14. Our relationship was on-again/off-again until my wife Susan and I started to have kids of our own. Susan pushed me to start calling my dad then, and I am glad of it. He died a couple of years back, and at least we had made our peace for the last few years of his life and had some good times and many laughs. He was a great grandpa to our girls.

I have the honorable duty now of being a strong male figure to my own daughters. In this life, we don't get to pick and choose what we are going to be like. As a dad, what I thought would be innate and common-sense stuff raising girls has turned into a daily learning process where I really have no idea what is in store for me next. I must be a "man's man" at times; at other moments, I must be sensitive and soft. I think that is the true essence of what being a man is. Well, at least that is what I have learned thus far.

I don't have this shit figured out at all yet, really. In my teens and 20s, I surmised that masculinity was gauged by how tough you were in a threatening situation. As I got deeper and deeper into martial arts in my 30s, I came to understand that a tough "front" was nothing more than fear masked by bravado. As guys, we are not really given the tools to deal with all this stuff. We just trudge through this life, and are lucky when some enlightenment comes our way.

My biggest challenge, and another massive feature that I see as part of true manliness, is being honest with myself and others and being forthright and true in my actions and dealings with my family, friends, and business associates. This is a huge deal. Do as you say. Say what you mean. Walk it like you talk it.

Do Robert Mitchum and Clint Eastwood toe as straight a line in real life as they do in their portrayals of the macho and rock-hard figures in their movies? Probably not. I am finding out just now in my 40s that the true measure of being a man is being a caring husband and father to girls, an ass-kicking rock guy, a scholarly reader, a fucking dork in the hipster club, and a top-notch crossworder.

But I still have to wait 'til after dark to walk our little pug dog.

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2010/04/the_soul_of_a_man.php

[Ignacio]

Nice column this last one. Thanks for posting Funky.

[scans n' copies]

I sure do enjoy reading these columns!  Thanks for posting 'em Funky.

[MeanBone]

Duff never ceases to amaze. what a wonderful human being

[FunkyMonkey]

If Only Rockwell Were Here to Paint This

By Duff McKagan, Thursday, Apr. 22 2010

As a father of girls, I really have no idea what I am doing most of the time. I suppose I have this idealized Norman Rockwell-like picture of how it should all look in my mind's-eye. Ah, but things seldom happen according to plan when you have kids. My hopes of my girls being diehard Mariners fans or back-country hiking enthusiasts have long passed. No, they do things when THEY are ready for them, and I am slowly getting that this is the way it is. But I get pleasantly surprised all the time these days.

As I write this, my dog Buckley is doing his usual daytime thing--sleeping. This little dude snores SO loudly that it often breaks my concentration. Our house down here in L.A. is an old Spanish-style adobe home with 14-inch thick brick walls. As a result, the wi-fi for our laptops has a limited range, and we all have to sit in one particular room if we want to get online.

Yesterday, I had a very important Skype business conference call with some serious lawyers and financial types in London. I set myself up in our computer room for the pre-specified time for the call. My dog Buckley likes to be where I am, all the time. As my call progressed and the conversation got more detailed and serious, Buckley started to snore louder and louder. I think the sound of my voice makes him feel secure and comfortable. I try to turn him and whatnot to keep him from snoring too loudly, but it seems this only makes him sleep more soundly. At some point in my call, one of my UK colleagues stopped the conversation and asked what all the noise was. "It sounds like there is a big dog snoring." Uh, yeah, sorry. That is MY dog. He is not big at all. He is one foot long . . . but he has the "snore" of a Labrador. I had to excuse myself and pick this dog up and take him to my bedroom so that I could carry on my call unmolested.

So, back to my children and the point of things coming at me at unexpected times. My wife and I took the girls to see Taylor Swift last Friday. Before any of you chastise me for my taste in music or whatever, let me just tell you that I actually completely back my girls being into Taylor Swift. Raising kids in a semi-safe environment can be hard enough in itself--if my kids are into an artist with a sweet and innocent message, well, more power to it.

I have tried to teach my daughters the guitar over the years. It seems like the likely thing, right? I am a musician and my girls should take after their "old dad," right? Wrong! The reality is that they think I am kind of a dork, and that all the things I do are somewhat dorkish. Including playing in a rock band! OK, I get it. So my girls will never start a new Runaways or Girlschool. Fine. I let that dream fade a few years ago, and have accepted the fact that my girls have their own path. But wait . . .

The day after the Taylor Swift concert, my wife asked me if I could show her a few chords on the acoustic guitar. "Yeah. Sure." I muttered that I was a crappy teacher, but that I would do my best. To my surprise, my wife Susan locked right into it, and played the chords I showed her for the rest of the day.

The next morning, my daughter Grace asked me if I could show HER a few chords on the guitar, and if I could teach her a MGMT song. "Uh . . . SURE!" Grace and Susan ended up playing all that day. On both Monday and Tuesday, when Grace got home from school, she went straight to the guitar. Susan has stuck with it too. And last night, Mae, my youngest, came into the living room and asked if she too could learn a few chords . . . "I want to play with my sister," she said plainly. Really sweet stuff!

So there I was, sitting in our living room--where I have the Direct TV MLB package so that I can watch my Mariners when I am down here in L.A. The game is on. I am trying to watch what is happening because the M's are starting to get exciting. I have all three of my girls asking me guitar questions. They are all playing different chords at the same time. Buckley is snoring something fierce. Ken Griffey Jr. is at the plate, and we have a chance to go up by two in the eighth inning. Grace is asking me why I have "such an old guitar," and why don't I have something newer? (That acoustic is an old Sears-made "Buck Owens American" that I treasure and which is somewhat valuable.) I start to get flustered until I suddenly realize that, right here and right now, I have everything that I always wanted. A family that needs me. Kids who are excited about something I can actually help them with. Two dumb dogs who are finally semi-house trained . . . and my baseball team on the TV. If only Norman Rockwell were here to paint this scene right now . . .

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2010/04/if_only_rockwell_were_here_to.php

[Lady Ashba]

That is sooo damn sweet! Duff is a total dad now, who would have guessed that 15 years ago!

[lynn1961]

If Women Are From Mars, I Better Learn to Speak Martian
By Duff McKagan, Thursday, Apr. 29 2010 @ 1:23PM

​Last Sunday, I was fortunate enough to be invited to a sort of men-only seminar, where the sole topic was . . . WOMEN! I know that readers here have borne witness to some of my many stumbles as the only male in a house full of girls. But seriously, I can use all the help I can get. This seminar was geared toward understanding the messages and perceptions that men are always trying to decipher from their female counterparts.

My sensei, Benny "The Jet" Urquidez, is a six-time world-champion kickboxer, and a legend in the martial-arts and boxing community around the globe. But it's what Benny has done out of the ring that has qualified him for this new role. Benny's been asked countless times to speak with women's groups--many times, groups for battered women. He is also the father of a girl, and has been married for 37 years. If you were to see Benny and his wife Sara in a grocery store or on the street somewhere, you would swear that they were a couple who had JUST fallen in love.

After years of learning from the women in classes and in his house, Benny decided he'd share a few of the lessons in the form of this seminar. Some of this may seem like low-hanging fruit, but seriously, every guy should have an afternoon dedicated to thinking seriously about this stuff. It will come in handy, and perhaps avoid a "misunderstanding" or two in the future.

At any rate, here are my thoughts on a few of the points Benny and the class went over:

No, We Can't Fix It

We fellas, in a general sense, have always been taught to show little or no emotion and fear. To add to this, our dads would often have us go fix something when we got into trouble. ("Go paint the fence!" or "Go wash the car!"). I have found myself all too often in a situation with my ladies where I want to "fix" a problem when perhaps all they really want from me is to listen. We fellas, though, will put in all the work to "fix" something, only to find our women even more upset. This leads to US getting mad because of the un-appreciated work we have just put in.

Yes, You're Pretty, But You're Also Smart

Too many girls, on the other hand--and this again a generalization--have been raised to sort of just shut up and look pretty; kind of seen but not heard. I'm not sure if this stuff stemmed from the Puritan backbone of this country, or if it goes back to caveman stuff, but by the time our ladies get up and out of their parents' house, they want to be heard. Understandable. This generalization is not meant from me to offend anyone reading this--this is just a basic and elementary overview for use in illustration here.

It's Not Supposed to Be Easy

By the time we heterosexual couples get together in our late teens or 20s, we have a LOT of cards stacked against us when it comes to communicating and understanding each other. Men want to feel appreciated and needed. Women want to feel safe and appreciated. But "safe" to a woman may not mean the same thing as it does to us dudes. Safe, for a woman, may simply mean having a man who will listen and not react when they need it. I don't know, really. Yet.

This first men's meeting with Benny and the brave gentlemen that showed up was an illuminating and useful first step for me. Indeed, men are from Mars and women are from Venus, but what are you gonna do about it now?

For me, I am going through a very interesting phase with my oldest daughter, who is right at 13 years of age. I've been warned about this stage--you know the one--where daughters start very suddenly to depart emotionally from their fathers. I know it is just a phase, but there is indeed a profound sense of loss for me right now. As a guy, I want to "fix" the situation, but that only makes my daughter think I'm even dorkier and invariably less cool than I was yesterday. I must figure out a way to be at peace with the situation for now. I know for a fact that she means no harm and that she loves me.

I hope that more men's groups like this one my Sensei started begin to grow and flourish. A world with men who are at least making an effort to understand themselves and their women can be nothing but better, if you ask me.

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2010/04/if_women_are_from_mars_i_bette.php

[FunkyMonkey]

Thanks another good column by Duff.  It looks like he is no longer writing his column in Playboy so I hope he continues with these Seattle Weekly spots.

[lynn1961]

Yeah, me too.  I enjoy reading his weekly columns!  Now, we have a book to look forward to, as well! 

[FunkyMonkey]

Read It Or Repeat It

By Duff McKagan, Thursday, May. 6 2010

The more books about history I read, the more I see history repeating itself. I have been reading fiction as of late, but it's when I read good historical nonfiction that I get completely lost in the story. Fact is, to me, always much more engrossing than fiction. The truly bizarre and heinous just can't be made up:

--Big lessons, like how "inside" Wall Street is, and how greed has made the common investor just a pawn in the game--starting about 125 YEARS ago (yes, it's not just a recent phenomenon).

--War and the displacement of indigenous peoples too. Just 40 years ago in Vietnam, by moving whole villages out of their ancient homelands, the invading U.S. Army bumbled and stumbled and created an enemy out of the friendly and, before then, helpful South Vietnamese. Heck, go back even further, and you'll see that Ho Chi Minh modeled his Declaration of Independence after ours, and that the U.S. backed Vietnam's struggle for independence in the late 1940s. How did we create such an ardent enemy within the following 20 years or so?

I received an e-mail from my best friend Andy yesterday. He and I are big "war buffs," and we sometimes trade tips on what books to read. He is an armchair historian like me. Neither of us are, however, military geniuses--just common, regular guys who try to figure stuff out as we go. Andy's e-mail was rather poignant and to-the-point, though. It DOES have something to do with books and reading too, so it should bring me back to my reading list:

"I did read Three Cups of Tea; it explains a lot about the area of North Pakistan. I've been looking into that area for the last year or so. Pakistan and the Afghan area is a really fucked-up place. If we spent half the money we spend to bomb the shit out of them, we could "win." It's a lesson we learned in Vietnam, but it looks like they (our "leaders") forgot. It's like when we moved all of those little tribes in the way-out areas to new "camps." If we could have just helped them to live a better life somehow, they would not have worked with the VC; but instead, we moved them from a place that they had lived for thousands of years. If we could just get those Wahidis out of there (Pakistan and Afghanistan), and build new schools that somehow taught them not to hate us and make a better life, they would and could thrive."
I'm not trying to get political here at all. It's just that with all the reading I do--and reading from all different viewpoints (not just an "Anglo" one), I just start to bang my head against a wall sometimes!

--Three Cups of Tea (Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin): I think I was first attracted to this book because I had heard it was a story of a K2 mountain-climber who had gotten lost on the hike out of that area. While, yes, this is indeed how the story got its start, Three Cups is a heartwarming story of humanity, ancient tribal ways, fundamental-religious rule, and perseverance in the mountains above Pakistan and Afghanistan. If you haven't read this book yet, put it on top of your list.

--The Forever War (Dexter Filkins): Yes, I think I have written about this book here before, but it seems to become everyone's favorite read after I suggest it to them. Iraq and Afghanistan are two big cluster-fucks that have put so many people's lives on the line. We should all be as well-informed as we can, I think, and The Forever War gives a view with some scope and honesty.

--The Things They Carried (Tim O'Brien): This is an epic and poetic first-hand account of the brutality and humanity of the Vietnam War. If you were to read this book before Three Cups and The Forever War, you would surely scratch your head and wonder if our Western leaders can add two and two.

--The Moneychangers (Upton Sinclair): I'm not sure what the difference is between Goldman Sachs selling financial vehicles that are built to fail, and Sinclair's 1910 "Northern Mississippi Railroad" stock being sold to a public who had no idea of the bad intentions of its chairmen. In The Jungle, Sinclair did much to change child-labor laws and food-inspection laws; I wonder why Wall Street wasn't put on a tighter leash after it was exposed by Moneychangers? This 100-year-old book is suddenly very topical and relevant.

Again, I know I have previously covered a few of these books, but there are new readers here all the time, and these reads are just too important and good. Anyone want to chime in?

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2010/05/read_it_or_repeat_it.php

[FunkyMonkey]

Just Like You, I Put My Custom-Tailored Jeans On One Leg at a Time

By Duff McKagan, Thursday, May. 13 2010

​If you've seen me at any rock shows over the past few years, you will notice that I wear the same jeans at every gig. As a matter of fact, I wear those pants everywhere: to the grocery store, on the plane, to the kids' school . . . and to weddings. I had them custom-made. Not because I'm the kind of guy who needs to be the only one on his block with his pair of jeans. For the life of me, I cannot find a pair of pants in the store that will fit. Trust me, I've tried.

I am somewhere in between average and big-and-tall, I suppose. Nothing at either store seems to fit. It makes me feel all alone sometimes when I go to a clothing store only to find nothing in my pant size. I mean, when was the last time you saw a pair of 32/36s hanging on the racks? This, my friends, is the problem with being tall.

I'm not sure what the average adult height is, but I am most positive that it is much shorter than my 6'3". Why am I so sure of this? Well, because for most of my life I have had to stoop to grab something off of a countertop, desktop, or grocery check-out counter. Things that are meant for an average height have been much too low for me for many years now. I must constantly strengthen my back and keep it limber.

Now I am not one to complain about my lot in life. I'm well aware that things could most certainly be a whole hell of a lot worse. I have all my arms and legs and fingers and toes. My intellect and sanity are mostly intact and in working order. I have two children, so obviously all that stuff works, too. No, I am not complaining. I just have a few items that I want to throw out there:

I'm not looking down on you, I swear. Eye contact is polite, and I am a firm believer in it. But over the years my neck has started to ache from looking down most of the time. My work predestines that I must stand most of the time and "rock out" with my other band members. Over the years, only Jeff Rouse and Mike Squires of LOADED have been near tall enough for me to look straight in the eye onstage. About 12 years ago, Mark Lanegan, Ben Sheppard, Mike Johnson, and I were going to form a band together for the simple fact that we were all tall. It sounds funny now, but we were serious about it then. If you are the only tall guy in a band, you run the risk of looking goofy if you're hunched over all the time.

I'm not trying to kick the back of your seat, I swear. I am THAT guy you will see on those Alaska Airlines flights from Los Angeles to Seattle. You know, the guy in seat 9C who looks miserable as they are serving snacks. Miserable because the tray is too low to lay out flat when it is fully pulled out of its vestibule! I am also that grumpy guy whose knees are completely bruised after the person in front of him decides to recline their seat. I always wonder what the guys in the NBA do when they fly? What does Krist Novoselic do? He is a good 4 inches taller than me!

I really am not a slouch. I know we have all seen those tall people out there whose postures have become perma-hunches (for some of the reasons that I have just named). So I have been faced with the quandary of standing tall without seeming like I am sticking out like a sore thumb. How do tall people keep their heads up when making conversation in public? How will I "bend at the knees" for all that I do now, when my legs get too weak in my 80s and 90s? I want to stand tall for sure, but I still want to fit in.

Officer, if you weren't a short unhappy fellow, you'd be speeding, too. My legs are fucking long, but my arms are not proportionate. I must play an ongoing game of seat and wheel adjustment so that my back doesn't get too sore from stooping forward so that my hands can rest at the 10 and 2 positions, or so my legs don't get too cramped when I bring the seat forward to save my back. If I had to be a truck driver for a living and do long hauls, I'd be a cripple in no time for sure.

I married up! My wife is 5'11" and our daughters are very tall for their ages. At least in my home, we can all fit in together. My wife modeled for a living for a long time, and it is only in that career (and some sports) that you can actually make a living because of your height. When she picked me up at Burbank Airport for our first blind date, it was marvelous to be able to look her in the eyes without craning my neck. It still is!

I'm not sure why we have such small dogs, though. That is a study for a whole other column. I'm going to take some Advil now ...

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2010/05/just_like_you_i_put_my_custom-.php

[metallex78]

As a average height, or shorter person myself, it's kinda good to hear that tall people have their share of problems. I always get stuck behind some "tall person" whenever I go to a gig or show, and it bugs the shit outta me!

[FunkyMonkey]

This Summer's Playlist Would Not Be Complete Without a Little Dio

By Duff McKagan, Monday, May. 17 2010

Dio, "The Last In Line," Last In Line, 1984: My part in this "summer music playlist" it is going to be a touch bittersweet as it turns out. Last weekend, Ronnie James Dio succumbed to his battle with stomach cancer. From what I understand, Ronnie fought like a warrior to the end.

I was supposed to pick a new-ish song for this list, but when it comes to rocking out in the summertime, sometimes you just got to go a little bit old-damn-school. "Last In Line" is an ass-kicker right up there with anything, punk, rock, and/or metal, and us rockers owe a bit of reverence to this great man. R.I.P., RJD!

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2010/05/this_summers_playlist_would_no.php

[CheapJon]

Learning the Old Jane's Addiction Jams

By Duff McKagan, Thursday, May. 20 2010

Never before have I been in a situation where I had to play bass lines written by someone else for a whole set. It is a challenge for sure, and an eye-opening experience as far as pushing my style in a different direction.

On June 9 and 11, I will be playing two European shows with Jane's Addiction. These gigs come at a time when we have been writing new songs for a while, and it's a chance to get outside the studio and sort of shake off the dust. But first I had to learn some of their old catalogue.

In all the bands I've been in, we have always done covers of other artists. GNR did Dylan's "Knockin' on Heaven's Door" and "Mama Kin" by Aerosmith. Neurotic Outsiders did "New Rose" by the Damned; VR did "Surrender" by Cheap Trick and "Wish You Were Here" by Pink Floyd. And Loaded has done everything from "TNT" by AC/DC to "Purple Rain" by Prince. But all these covers were played by bands I had already been playing with for some time. They were simply our interpretations of these songs . . . good or bad.

A couple of weeks ago, as I was in the Jane's rehearsal room going through a set of JA classics, I found myself feeling really uncomfortable and unsettled. I couldn't figure it out. Was my bass rig not sounding right? Could I not hear Steven Perkins' bass drum well enough? Was I playing in the right groove and at the right volume? These are not things one should be thinking while playing. You should be in the moment and let things flow. And suddenly it dawned on me: I was playing bass parts for a whole set of songs that were written by someone else WITH the band that had recorded them. Oh . . . this is new!

JA's founding bassist, Eric Avery, was always a guy whom I very much respected as a bass player. Back in the mid-'80s club days in L.A., I remember going to see JA just to watch Avery and Perkins. The way they interwove rhythm was ridiculous, and a bit groundbreaking. For some reason over the years, he and I never actually met. This added to his mystique for me. So now as I am playing some of those bass lines, I feel the pressure that I perceive is probably out there. You know: Everyone will be looking at ME to see how I play those beloved bass lines, an integral part of the JA sound.

Really good bass players are a very rare thing in rock music. James Jamerson and Donald "Duck" Dunn from the Motown and Stax Records days set a high-water mark that has only been just touched upon since then.

John Paul Jones of Led Zeppelin borrowed heavily from those two, but then added a lot of his own mojo and passed it forward for anyone else to try and improve on. Eric Avery and Robert DeLeo (from Stone Temple Pilots) have probably been the closest as far as carrying on JPJ's lineage, and this is meant as a huge compliment.

Paul Simonon from the Clash set the tone for me, as far as modern-day bass players go. He has such a killer sense of pocket and style. Randy Rampage from DOA and Simonon were for sure the two bassists who I chose to follow and mimic when I decided to switch from guitar to the four-strings in 1984.

Some of the great bass players from the post-'70s punk and noise era introduced more of a mood, almost a sense of color, to stereos around the world. Raven from Killing Joke is a good example of where the actual playing is not the thing that gets you; it's the attitude in which it's played that makes you want to break shit.

Krist Novoselic is a monster player too. Guys who I know and play with realize what a huge part he had in Nirvana's makeup. Without Krist being the aggressive and melodic player that he is and was, those records would have been oh-so-much different. You can actually hear his style develop and mature from Bleach to Nevermind to In Utero. I like it when I can hear and recognize a player getting better. I feel like I am somehow a part of it.

OK. So here I am, playing older Jane's songs and trying to be true to those bass lines while trying to infuse some of my own thing (whatever THAT is!). We are writing new songs, and I can only hope to leave my mark somehow and not do any damage to this great legacy.

At the end of the day, I still love what I do and am lucky to make a living at a thing that is also my passion.

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2010/05/janes_addiction_duff_mckagan.php

[Albert S Miller]

Girls, Girls, Girls By Duff McKagan, Thursday, May. 27 2010 @ 8:55AM
 
Duff McKagan's column runs every Thursday on Reverb. He writes about what music is circulating through his space every Monday.
​Last week, I had the pleasure of being home alone with my two daughters. My wife Susan, at long last, made the trip that her mom, aunt, sister, and herself were planning, down to Mexico. This left me some good quality time with my 9 and 12-year-old bundles of girly joy . . . and hormones.

At this point in my fatherdom, I certainly know where I can be of service to my girls. I also know it when I am completely lost and flummoxed by the quandaries that perplex only females. I am still under the assumption that a hike and maybe some "catch" with a baseball in the backyard can fix any and all problems with my girls.

Twelve-year-olds want nothing more than to be grown-up. Right now! Grace cannot wait to drive, and have an apartment and a job and be in college and not be walked to school in the morning by her mom and/or dad (how embarrassing!). When I tell Grace that she should sort of "enjoy youth" and not rush everything she does, she gives me a look like I am the oldest and nerdiest coot that ever walked the face of the earth. I don't feel like a coot. I guess maybe I DO look like a coot sometimes . . . but still, I am only just trying to pass on some shining pearls of wisdom.

Nine-year-olds who have older sisters want to be just exactly LIKE them, and this can often be a tough row to hoe. Mae is going to be a tough chick one day, as she now has to deal with a fair amount of rebuffment and push-back from her older sibling. This is part and parcel of being the youngest--I should know, as I was the youngest of eight kids.

I was really kind of excited for the girls' mom to be gone. I really thought that this would give me a chance to have some serious "Dad time" with my girls, and that they would somehow respond to my soothsayer-like genius in all things that deal with life in general. In my mind's eye, I would sort of be just waiting patiently--in my easy chair or cross-legged in a yoga position--as my girls clamored to be the first to spill all their life questions and problems to me. On Day 1 after school . . . they both went to their rooms with only a cursory "Hi, Dad." Day 2 was the same. Day 3, too.

That's OK. I know that the girls' school is finishing soon and that they have a lot of tests and such to study for. But a kid can't live on schoolbooks alone. I decided to take my daughters on a hike after school last Friday, and they were . . . delighted. Actually, they both groaned. "C'mon!", I said. I thought that surely a little fresh air and exercise would loosen their tongues, and that finally they could talk to me about life and ask for my insight and knowledge.

Sometimes I just have to put up the flag of surrender. I realize that--more often than not these days--I just don't understand girl stuff. I'm just absolutely lost sometimes. I have become enlightened to the fact that I must let the mini-dramas pass me by, not unlike letting the eye of a hurricane pass. In the past, I would meet these problems head-on and try to solve it all . . . or scold when certain behavior traits didn't seem right to me. While I am fair for sure, I AM still a disciplinarian of sorts. Actually, it is really my "dad- disappointment" that does the most toward any type of scolding. It is sweet, really, that my girls don't want to disappoint me. They seem to know it even before I am aware of it myself.

So here we go! Off on our hike on a fire road in a conservancy that is conveniently in my neighborhood down here in Los Angeles. But first I had to convince my girls to put on tennis shoes in place of their fancy sandals. They both gave me a look of "Oh, my God! What if a BOY sees us?!" As we were climbing the first hill, I noticed that Grace had her purse with her. As a male, I just don't get the reason why a young girl will have a purse. When I asked Grace why she had brought it along on a wooded and not-so-easy hike, she replied, "Lip gloss! Duh!!" Duh indeed. Sometimes I just got to keep my mouth shut and trudge on forward.

In the meantime, Buckley and I have a game to watch

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/duff_mckagan/

[CheapJon]

When I asked Grace why she had brought it along on a wooded and not-so-easy hike, she replied, "Lip gloss! Duh!!" Duh indeed. Sometimes I just got to keep my mouth shut and trudge on forward.

"duh indeed"

 thanks for postin

[Albert S Miller]

I can so related to Duff, I raised two girls also, and sure my husband can vouch for the some of these same situations. It is hard to be the only male in the house surrounded by hormones.  At least Buckley is male, in our case even Evanca is a girl lol...  Poor Scott

[FunkyMonkey]

Summer Movie Rentals: War Is Hell

By Duff McKagan, Thursday, Jun. 3 2010


​I often give and get book suggestions here, but I'm not sure if I have yet to devote a whole piece to just movies. Last Monday was Memorial Day, and I got a good movie list by just looking at the GUIDE feature on my Direct TV menu.

When forced to rank my top all-time films, I always lean toward older movies, Alfred Hitchcock and Frank Capra movies especially. I am also a huge history geek, especially when it comes to war. War has always fascinated me. It's such a brutal thing. I do love a good war movie, and so goes this list.

Crossfire, starring Robert Mitchum: This movie is almost film noir, and serves the little-exposed subjects of anti-Semitism in America and the directionlessness of some of our servicemen after World War II. Made in 1947, it sort of flew in the face of the mostly uplifting film fare that was happening then. The director was probably a damn commie!

The Enemy Below, Robert Mitchum: WAY before Das Boot, this movie highlighted the claustrophobia of submarine warfare.

To Hell and Back, Audie Murphy: This film is excellent for the fact that it's about the most decorated U.S. soldier of WWII, STARRING the most decorated U.S. soldier of WWII as himself. Audie Murphy went on to a lot of Westerns after this, too. A real man's man, indeed!

The Big Red One, directed by Samuel Fuller: Fuller was known during the '50s for his subversive film subjects. The Big Red One, released in 1980, uses a tone of excellent imagery to show the brutality and senselessness of warfare.

Hamburger Hill, Don Cheadle: One of my brothers who was in Vietnam told me once that Hamburger Hill was the most realistic of all the 'Nam movies. Hamburger Hill shows a Marine unit fight and die and fight and die some more just to take a hill, a hill that they vacate after they capture it. Futile . . . pointless . . . dumb . . . ridiculous.

Where Eagles Dare, Clint Eastwood: Eastwood, Nazis, and stolen gold. Need I say more!?

Kelly's Heroes, Clint Eastwood, Telly Savalas, Don Rickles: If you have to ask, then you are lame.

Wake Island (1942): This film is extraordinary in that filming started just days after the attack on Pearl Harbor, and it serves as the very first of countless movies that would follow about WWII.

Saving Private Ryan, Tom Hanks: Probably the most vivid gore-showing and nerve-shattering flick about WWII. Tom Hanks is awesome.

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2010/06/summer_movie_rentals_war_is_he.php

[FunkyMonkey]

On the Road With Jane's Addiction, Reminded of Some of Mankind's Troubling Detours

By Duff McKagan, Thursday, Jun. 10 2010

I've been on a brief two-show European run with Jane's Addiction that started with a gig in Amsterdam. It certainly is interesting, the things that life will throw your way. If you had told me six months ago that I'd be playing with JA, you would have certainly received a sideways look back from me.

I have been extremely blessed as far as how long my career in music has lasted; this shit just isn't the norm. I love music, though, and my passion for what I do has yet to wane. As a matter of fact, my lust for this thing I do has grown.

The guys in Jane's are really great too. Stephen Perkins has a huge heart. Perry is a true "artist" and an original with no equal in his form. Dave Navarro is a virtuoso. Me? I just hope that I don't fuck up! That part in the song "Stop" where it's just bass chords and Perry's vocal has got me a bit wigged out. I just keep saying to myself, "Don't fuck it up, Duff." Those words have become my silent and constant mantra, as it were.

Jeff Rouse (bassist in Loaded) is out here with me as my bass tech. Luckily for me, he could do these shows. If nothing else, knowing that he is there on stage left will keep me from getting too inside of my head. Jeff and I have traveled the world together in Loaded, and share the same insane sense of dumb humor ("What do you call a donkey with three legs? A wonkey!").

When we got to town, Jeff and I went out on the streets of Amsterdam with his little Flip video recorder to make a new "Loaded/Jane's Addiction version" webisode. We of course drank too much coffee and tried to make a semblance of cohesive conversation with wary tourists. I get why people are scared of us--two tall tattooed guys with a camera, jabbering and asking questions like idiots. In our eyes, we are just being friendly and curious. To them, I am sure we appear as some sort of grievous threat.

Our hotel happens to be right next door to the Anne Frank house, a sobering thing for sure. Anne was the age of my own daughter, Grace, when she wrote her heartbreaking, brave, and hopeful diary as the Nazis closed in on her hideout some 65 years ago. That is not that long ago, is it? I am glad all that shit is over with . . . or is it? Back in my hotel room, the first story that came on BBC was of a growing and very visible Nazi party in Lithuania. Really?!!

While I was waiting in the lobby the other day, a very nice gentleman who works at the hotel approached me. He asked how I was enjoying my stay in Amsterdam. I assured him that things were as great as ever. I have been to this city probably a dozen times and have always enjoyed the liberalness and feeling of safety, not to mention the beauty of the architecture and the quaintness of the many canals and the bicycle traffic constantly whizzing past. My new friend's name is Landers.

Landers and I got into a lengthy conversation about society and government (it's not uncommon here to have detailed conversations with strangers). Now we all know that pot and prostitution are legal here . . . and taxed. AIDS and teenage pregnancy are also extremely low because of the amount of sex education in the schools here. Gay marriage is legal. Euthanasia is also legal to those too sick to go on in dignity or in too much pain. All of these things make so much plain and logical sense to me.

I've heard about the hilarious notion of a new country being formed whose southern border would be San Francisco and northern border Vancouver B.C. (I think the name bandied about is something like Cascadia). I'm sure the laws in this new Eden would mirror Holland's, and our natural and tech resources would be huge. Can you imagine that?

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2010/06/on_the_road_with_janes_addicti.php

[FunkyMonkey]

The Jane's Addiction Ride Continues: Two More Live Shows and Maybe a Few New Recordings

By Duff McKagan, Thursday, Jun. 17 2010

Man! Am I ever lucky to be doing what I do! My tenure in Jane's Addiction recently took me to Europe for two shows with Rage Against the Machine in Arnhem, Holland, and Madrid, Spain. This was to be a real trial by fire for me with JA. Don't for a second think that I wasn't a little scared.

I generally have confidence in myself. Confidence to me doesn't mean anything else other than self-assurance. You have to be a little bit cocky to go onstage in front of a lot of screaming motherfuckers. I do put in the work, though, to at last gain the confidence . . . sort of like studying hard and being ready for a tough exam at school, or reading What to Expect When You're Expecting right before having a baby. Still, you can indeed be as prepared as possible, but still experience many and varied outliers than no amount of preparation can steel you for.

As the house lights went out before we took the stage on that first show, my heart started to speed up and my breathing became shallow and hurried. I couldn't think straight and my hands we shaking just a bit. I've experienced this before, and because of my lifelong affliction with panic disorder, I know now that when my "fight or flight" mechanisms shift into high gear, at least I am not going to die. But I was freaked the FUCK out.

A couple of the guys from RATM came to my side of the stage just then and gave me big smiles. I do believe that they too wanted to see what Jane's would sound like with me playing bass. These guys somehow gave me a sudden boost of confidence, and I was back to my normal self and breathing easy.

Arnhem is right on the German border, and from my past experience with German rock fans, they like their rock hard and heavy without frills or decoration. They loved GN'R. Velvet Revolver, on the other hand, never quite took hold there. Actually, I have never quite figured out what the German audience is into. A few years ago, VR played a huge hard-rock festival there with Slipknot and Korn, and believe it or not, Good Charlotte was the headliner. They fucking LOVE Good Charlotte, for whatever reason. The first JA show there last week was met with a sort of lukewarmish politeness with many quizzical stares--like they had no idea who we were. You can't win them all.

On to Madrid and the Rock in Rio festival. RIR stopped being held in Rio some five or six years ago, and instead goes now to either Portugal or Spain (whichever promoter can offer the most money to the folks who own the RIR rights). I had a feeling about this show, a premonition of sorts. Jeff Rouse from Loaded was out on these gigs with me, and he seemed to sense it too. This show would be different. This show would be good for JA.

Maybe it was the downing of a full Red Bull before I hit the stage (something I didn't do in Holland), but the roar of the huge crowd was deafening and glorious. We chose "Requiem" by Killing Joke as the intro music, and our sound guy just absolutely cranked it. If you know this song, then perhaps you can imagine the chills that were running down my spine (or was that the Red Bull rush? Truth be told, I drank TWO). The stage deck was massive and multi-tiered. Before I knew what was happening, I had run the 50-yard length of that stage several times back and forth, and we were only a few bars into the opening "Mountain Song."

Perry Farrell was in top form, conjuring his voodoo weirdness and owning the stage. He is a fucking true original, and many frontmen who came after him simply aped his thing. Dave Navarro is really a virtuoso, gifted with an enormous and effortless talent (fucker!). Stephen Perkins has the oddest style that has always seemed tailor-made for JA, and in my opinion, the band gained their sense of rhythmic trance because of him; no other drummer could have brought what he did (and still brings).

Sen Dog and B-Real from Cypress Hill were on my side of the stage. Either they really liked the band that night--or they were just insanely high on the high-test weed they had been hitting all day--but they both seemed caught up in the whole majesty of the JA thing. It was just as fun for me to watch Perry as the dudes from Cypress, OR the crowd!

These are the gigs that as a performer keep you coming back and trying harder to be good at your craft. Yes, my life kicks ass. We just recorded an undisclosed number of new Jane's Addiction songs that are really fucking good and hark back to some of the old magic. (Editor's note: These songs may or may not have names yet. But that's a good question/) I will be making a new record with the ever-genius Loaded this summer, too . . . it looks like my dance-card will be full to the brim this year. Bring it!!!

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2010/06/the_janes_addiction_ride_conti.php