Duff McKagan's Column In Seattle Weekly

[FunkyMonkey]

Tell Him/Her/Them About It While You Can

By Duff McKagan, Thu., Jan. 27 2011

​Many of you already know that I have been writing a book over the past year or more. Well, this week I got back a first and very rough edit, and I have, for the first time, sat down and read the whole thing.

Here's the deal: In writing so much about my own life, I have found so many places where for so long I have placed blame on others for this failure or that shortcoming. It's not like I haven't worked on resentment in my sober life, because I really have. Or so I thought.

Both of my parents passed away within the past 10 years. My mom was a saint in my eyes, and raised us eight McKagan kids with the courage of the whole Allied Forces in WWII. I think she knew how much I loved her and appreciated all her lessons shared, but did I tell her all this when she was still alive? Surely not like I would now.

It is common for all human beings to experience a traumatizing childhood event. I think when we are kids we have these idealized models of what life should be like and what grown-ups should adhere to. In my case, my own father didn't live up to my idealized "father-figure" model, and I ended up resenting him for the rest of his life.

To sort of throw my dad under the bus now that he isn't here to defend himself is not my intent. There were many things he did in my life that were amazing and righteous. We just didn't have a real knack for communicating, especially when I witnessed first-hand my parents' marriage falling apart. When they divorced, I placed the blame squarely on my dad's shoulders and never looked back.

After I got sober, my wife Susan sort of forced me into having a relationship with my dad again. We had a new daughter, and Susan asked me to try and forgive my Pop so that Grace (and then Mae) could have a grandpa around in Seattle. I'm glad that Susan did this.

I didn't go all the way, though, with my dad. I didn't have the guts or fortitude to address with him alone the things I address in my writing and forgive him for wholeheartedly. Sadly, it's just too damn late.

If any of you have the inclination, or are battling old resentments, may I suggest you write them down and then write about your part in these events that have caused said resentment. It may just do a whole lot of healing. Do this before it's too late.

May I also suggest saying to those you hold near and dear how much they may have changed your life for the better. For those people who may have caused you harm, the only healthy solution there may be just to examine your part in these events. Try to be honest with yourself to a fault. We hate to see in ourselves the things that we judge to be poor character traits in others. So when self-honesty starts to hurt and become really, really uncomfortable, that is when you know you are being thorough.

I feel like I am having a meeting at a sober place right now, so I will stop with this line of thought. I'm just trying to pass on some things I have learned over the past year. Some of you have paid forward with sage words to me in the comments section, and I am only trying to return the favor.

In being a parent myself now for a 10- and 13 year-old, I can sort of see through their eyes their vision of some of my own shortcomings. I get it. I was there once.

But these days, I open my mouth and say how I feel. I tell my girls that they are safe with me, or that they make being a dad an easy thing. They think this stuff is all way too damn corny and question why I am saying these things. I just tell them to store those things away and save them for a day when my goofy words may mean something.

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2011/01/tell_himherthem_about_it_befor.php

[scans n' copies]

I've always thought Duff was one of the coolest guys on the planet.  Every time I read his columns, that concepts just grows and grows.  As a guy who lost his dad before I could say a lot of that same stuff to him, I too go overboard with telling my kids the corny stuff they roll their eyes at!

[m_rated96]

hmmmmmmmmmm.....
I've been thinking about this a bit. Duff is extremely articulate and poetic with his writing. Yet if you watch him in interviews, hes basically like a retarded drunk with slurry words.

Even slash seems to have a far bigger vocabulary than him.. so I am beginning to suspect these columns may be partially ghost written... its a well known tactic with celebrity columnists, and actually happens almost universally.

[sleeper]

hmmmmmmmmmm.....
I've been thinking about this a bit. Duff is extremely articulate and poetic with his writing. Yet if you watch him in interviews, hes basically like a retarded drunk with slurry words.

Even slash seems to have a far bigger vocabulary than him.. so I am beginning to suspect these columns may be partially ghost written... its a well known tactic with celebrity columnists, and actually happens almost universally.

I never thought about it but I hope you are wrong because he is writting his book without help according to his wife. I cannot listen to him in an interview very long because he rambles and cannot seem get his thoughts together.

[AxlReznor]

hmmmmmmmmmm.....
I've been thinking about this a bit. Duff is extremely articulate and poetic with his writing. Yet if you watch him in interviews, hes basically like a retarded drunk with slurry words.

Even slash seems to have a far bigger vocabulary than him.. so I am beginning to suspect these columns may be partially ghost written... its a well known tactic with celebrity columnists, and actually happens almost universally.

He hasn't spoken like that since when he was a retarded drunk.

[lynn1961]

hmmmmmmmmmm.....
I've been thinking about this a bit. Duff is extremely articulate and poetic with his writing. Yet if you watch him in interviews, hes basically like a retarded drunk with slurry words.

Even slash seems to have a far bigger vocabulary than him.. so I am beginning to suspect these columns may be partially ghost written... its a well known tactic with celebrity columnists, and actually happens almost universally.

Talking and writing are two totally different things though.

[zihuatenajo]

hmmmmmmmmmm.....
I've been thinking about this a bit. Duff is extremely articulate and poetic with his writing. Yet if you watch him in interviews, hes basically like a retarded drunk with slurry words.

Even slash seems to have a far bigger vocabulary than him.. so I am beginning to suspect these columns may be partially ghost written... its a well known tactic with celebrity columnists, and actually happens almost universally.

Talking and writing are two totally different things though.

Yes , indeed!! A person who is mute can grow an amazing vocab. and be an excellent writer , even though they don't speak. And as the person above stated : two completely different aspects of language.

[14 Yrs Of Silence]

hmmmmmmmmmm.....
I've been thinking about this a bit. Duff is extremely articulate and poetic with his writing. Yet if you watch him in interviews, hes basically like a retarded drunk with slurry words.

Even slash seems to have a far bigger vocabulary than him.. so I am beginning to suspect these columns may be partially ghost written... its a well known tactic with celebrity columnists, and actually happens almost universally.

He hasn't spoken like that since when he was a retarded drunk.

Yeah, I agree.  Last time I saw Duff do a tv interview was on That Metal Show and he was well spoken, nothing like the old GNR days.

[FunkyMonkey]

This Week in Loaded: Three New Songs, One New Movie, and Plenty of Flirting With Lemmy, ZZ Top, and Sean Kinney

By Duff McKagan, Thu., Feb. 3 2011

Last week, we touched on some heavy issues concerning life, loss, and the general hurdles that life puts in front of all of us. Speaking for myself, it was good to get it out of my system. I hope it was for all of you who commented, too. It's time now to move on. It is Loaded time, after all.
After a sort of long downtime of not much public activity with my band Loaded, things are finally starting to go public.

On Tuesday, three of our new songs and the cover-art from our upcoming record, The Taking, were leaked on BLABBERMOUTH. A few years ago, digital streams as leaks spelled doom for a band's future record sales; now they are looked at as almost a good thing, something that can get a prospective audience pumped and talking about the upcoming release of the full-length. It is almost like it is free advertising, like "Here, check out some of THIS. It is so good and precious, that someone figured out how to hack into the label's mainframe computer and unleash this new kick-ass music." Hey, for me, and everything that I have seen over the years in this business, who cares? As long as people are talking.

I'm on a flight right now back up to Seattle where we are going to do a few more segments of "RADIO LOADED" on KISW. Sean Kinney will be joining in again . . . and who knows? Maybe he and I will actually one day have a radio hour of our own--an everyday thing. But that would be way off in the future.

Loaded is making a movie, too. What? A film? Some people who know about it think that perhaps somehow we have suddenly become "actors," and hence, the film will be a shoddy attempt at scripted dialogue. Really, it is nothing like that.

I tried acting one time back in the late '90s. I got a call from a show called Sliders starring Jerry O'Connell on the Sci-Fi Channel. They needed a punk-rock vampire who could play drums (I sort of do that), who could go around killing people, and generally be a badass. Roger Daltrey had been the guest star the week before, so I thought, "Fuck it! Why not?" I was newly sober and open to try anything new at least once for the life-experience factor. I was trying to face fears. There were a bunch of speaking lines, and, long story short, I sucked (pun intended).

No, the Loaded movie will be more in line with a very twisted A Hard Day's Night, a movie where the songs on the record did all the "talking," and the band was just trying to make its way through a bunch of insane circumstances to get from point A to point B. If you like male prostitution, killing a child predator, ferries, motorcycles, hang-gliders, bi-planes, and Mary Kay Letourneau, this Loaded flick may just be for you.

Filmmaker and general visionary Jamie Chamberlin is helming this project, and I must say he may be West Seattle's best kept secret, artist-wise.

While Motorhead is in town this Friday at the Showbox, the great Lemmy Kilmister has agreed to play a cameo role in the movie, which I am psyched about.

It is very likely too, that we may be playing some surprise and unannounced acoustic shows around town for the filming: "Flash gigs," if you will.

Rumor has it that we may be recording a song for an upcoming ZZ Top tribute record this weekend too. If it doesn't happen this week, it will happen soon, I am told. Other acts include Queens of the Stone Age, Mastodon, Wolfmother, Stone Sour, and more. Either way, the record should be pretty interesting.

Next week, the band starts gearing up the press machine. Interview after interview after interview. It is actually one of the most rigorous things that I have to do in my professional life. It can get exhausting answering the same question over and over, without seeming like a jerk. I do realize, after all this time, that the interviewer you are talking to currently did not in fact know the questions the last guy asked me. None of them are trying to be repetitive.

All this stuff comes at the exact right time for me personally, as I just got done writing and doing a first full edit of my book. It was 14 months of huge ups and downs for me, to a level I did not expect. I can see why people get ghostwriters. I can get real, real painful and uneasy digging up skeletons and re-examining the whole sludge and effluvia of your wreckage.

So onward and forward we trudge: The fine gentlemen of The Loaded Group. Taking no names and no prisoners. Hide your daughters (and sons?), and sharpen up on your Scrabble game, because ready or not, here we come.

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2011/02/this_week_in_loaded_3_new_song.php

[FunkyMonkey]

6 Sure-Fire Signs That You're a Seattle Hipster

By Duff McKagan, Thu., Feb. 17 2011

​There seems to be a premium these days on a certain avenue and chic-ness of cool, to those young city folk who may very well be the leaders of art and culture. And then of course there are the outwardly visible hipsters who would like to think they are the ones who are really the driving force in art and culture.
Historically speaking, most of those musicians and visual artists who have inspired the rest of us with their original ideas lived the large part of their careers in dark obscurity. The legion of Velvet Underground fans didn't come into form, for example, until David Bowie and his ilk pimped them out. And while Jackson Pollock did enjoy some commercial success while he was still an active artist, it wasn't until the New York art-scene explosion of the 1970s that he become somewhat of a household name. Van Gogh too. Hell, Joy Division weren't widely known until much after even OMD.

I'm gonna go out on a limb and suggest the possibility that your garden-variety hipster could, in the hopes of keeping the cool shtick up, be a little closed-minded to what is actually happening beyond the local record and thrift-clothing store.

OK, but right now, all of you reading this think that when I say "hipster" that I must talking about someone else. Not so fast . . .

You may not like it, but you are, in fact, dangerously close to hipster territory if any of the following apply to you:

1. You say things like "I'm a geek."
2. Your band has more than six members and none of them play a horn.
3. There is an animal in your band name.
4. You follow @JohnRoderick on Twitter.
5. You hang out at Big Mario's five nights a week while loudly proclaiming: "I hate this place."
6. You wear leg warmers in the summer.

Look, I get it. At one point in my youth, I too shunned TV and commercialism, drank tea at coffeehouses, and wore a French beret (the predecessor of the long black beanie worn today). I was so damn cool and left-wing. To be fair, the right wing back then was Reaganism. Not my type of "ism."

In Seattle, obviously, Capitol Hill is central to the area's hipster culture. Down in L.A., the equivalent is an area called Silver Lake. I remember in the mid-'90s that living in Hollywood was seen as pass? and uncool. Silver Lake and Hollywood butt up against each other, and I would overhear back then people claiming they lived in "east" Hollywood (the eastern edge of Hollywood is nearest to Silver Lake). There IS a West Hollywood, but not until the mid-'90s was there ever an "east."

It has been a long, long time since I have been considered a hipster, and with the success of my "rock" band Guns N' Roses, those days would never return in the eyes of those who hold the keys to "Club Hip," but that was and is OK. I had kind of outgrown that need to be outwardly "anti." Besides, I had started to like going to movies, as well as going to the "cinema" to see a "film." I also started to outwardly cheer for my sports teams, as opposed to being anti-jock, wearing black socks with my low-top Converses while wearing shorts, and pretending that I couldn't jump. I'm a sellout.

Anyway, about a year ago I went to see a band at the ultra-hipster Silver Lake Lounge. I like seeing good music and I also like talking to people. (Those of you may have encountered me anywhere probably already know that particular fact about me. I'm not afraid to ask people questions about themselves.) But at the SLL this night, I was kind of left alone. No one wanted to be seen, perhaps, talking to some "rock guy," particularly one not wearing the standard-issue hipster uniform (I should've changed before I went, damn it!). No, I would be alone on this night--left to watch the music without conversation between bands. Oh, well.

But a funny thing happened as I went outside to go to my fancy and non-hipster car: A few of the people who were inside came outside to stop me. They asked if they could take a picture with me . . . but they wanted to do it quick, before any of their other hipster friends could come out and very likely shun them from the aforementioned "Club Hip."

The good news is that there is a surefire way to be broken of the hipster yoke: procreation. Yeah, even most of you who think having kids is never going to happen for you, your time is coming, and your days of being anti-commercialism and not owning a TV may very well be numbered. There is just nothing better that going to Gap Kids, you may find. Also, Dora the Explorer is pretty damn necessary, as well as all of those kid DVDs (if you want to do anything like go to the bathroom or talk on the phone to a friend, you will find the TV of paramount importance). Gnomeo and Juliet is guaranteed to get you teary-eyed. Face it: Baby Bjorns will get in the way of continuing your further development into hipsterism.

There is the issue of the aging hipster, but that's a completely different story.

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2011/02/6_sure-fire_signs_that_youre_a.php

[FunkyMonkey]

Questions for Duff: Tell Us About Your Dog

By Duff McKagan, Tue., Feb. 22 2011

Q: Hi Duff, I would like to know what your pug's name is. I saw her on Susan's show and she is darling! We have a little Pug named Petunia, and she's so much fun and so sweet!

 Thanks,
 Suzanna Dwyer


A: Yeah, well, I feel kind of goofy answering a question about my dog. Truthfully, if it was a big dog, like the ones I used to have, I would probably feel less chick-like in my answer. But OK, here goes....
Our pug's name is Twirlz. When our girls each turned 9, they got a dog for Christmas. Mae wanted a pug. She was so scared of that whirling dervish of a dog for the first few months that--yeah, you guessed it--Susan and I ended up being the feeders, cuddlers, and walkers of Twirlz. On those walks that I did on my own (but of course, in public), I called her . . . Chopper. I couldn't have anyone hearing me say "Go potty, Twirlz" in public, now, could I?

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2011/02/questions_for_duff.php

Questions for Duff: What Was Your First Time Playing Onstage Completely Sober Like?

By Duff McKagan, Thu., Feb. 24 2011

Q: What was your first time playing onstage completely sober like for you? Were you nervous? What did you do to prepare and keep yourself focused?
Thank you, CJ Gunn, Cleveland, Ohio

P.S.: I am now 21 months sober myself and you are a big reason and influence why, thank you.

A: I was so completely terrified of playing sober, that I actually for a time thought my career was over. Luckily for me, though, the Neurotic Outsiders formed and played a bunch of shows at the Viper. All those guys were sober, and they eased me into it. I was so totally stunned by how much easier and natural it was without the hindrance of an inebriant. I could tap into my animalistic self much better.

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2011/02/questions_for_duff_what_was_yo.php

[lynn1961]

This week's column is all about AxlReznor!!  That's great!


A Meeting of the Minds

By Duff McKagan
Fri, Mar 4 2011 @ 10:15 AM

                                                           
Many of you readers of this column are also quite active in the comment area. If you are one of those people, then no doubt you are probably keenly aware of a gentleman who posts under the screen name "AxlReznor."

AxlRexnor can at times post difficult retorts that either fly in the face of an article's stated point, or stun you with a certain stark wise-assiness. But for sure, he always posts with thought and intense intelligence. It can be intimidating.

I remember the first time I became aware of this guy. It was on a Velvet Revolver fan forum, at the very beginning of the band's formation. I had never before this gone to any forums, and was caught unawares of the ridicule and insanity that an anonymous public can pile onto a rock band. AxlReznor was there then . . . and his screen name alone intrigued me. His critical posts back then always seemed to hit the mark--whether I liked it or not.

I have since met this dude. Sometime in 2004 or 2005, I was talking with some fans after a show somewhere in England, when a tall fella came up to me and suddenly claimed that he was AxlReznor. I flinched a bit. Judging from all his posts, I wasn't sure if he was quite sane or not. Was he going to pull a knife? Was he going to start slagging me off in public? No. He was just a nice guy--who just happens to like questioning things . . . in general. Not just rock bands, but EVERYTHING.

I am in Birmingham, England, this weekend, and as it happens I am sitting right now having a coffee with one Anthony Hillman (AxlReznor), his fiancee Katy (she posts as "Katy(just me)"), and Sophia (she posts as "Sophia Shaikh"). I have my computer. I thought it would be kind of cool for him and I to try to write this column together. In a way, just "riff" back and forth. So here it goes.

AR: It seems that Duff had the same thoughts as I did when we first met each other in person. After so many years of posting on the Velvet Revolver, sometimes being less than complimentary, I was wondering how my introducing myself would go down. Would he want to kick my ass for some of the things that I'd said?

The first clue that my impressions were completely off was when I had to wait in the queue for far longer than I liked, because Duff was actually taking time to chat with everybody. "What is this?" I was thinking, "he's not supposed to take an interest! He's a rock star! He's supposed to sign whatever is put in front of him and all, but tell them to fuck off and move onto the next person in the conveyor belt!" But no, he genuinely took an interest in chatting with and finding out about his fans. And, I quickly discovered, was more than willing to put up with whatever criticisms that I had thrown his way over the years . . . even the ones where in retrospect I feel I have gone too far.

Over the years since, we have met on various other occasions whenever he was in town with his band Loaded, and have struck up a friendship that seemed completely unlikely a few short years ago. In a shocking twist, I would like to take this opportunity to thank Duff (and everybody else from Guns N' Roses and Velvet Revolver), because without this music I would have never met the woman who is now my future wife . . . our first contact was arguing with each other on the Velvet Revolver forum, funnily enough.

Duff: OK, now the niceties have been served here, I am going to ask a few pointed questions . . . just to maybe highlight how different our tastes are:

Top 5 movies:

AR's choices--
The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King
The Matrix
The Dark Knight
Gladiator
Star Wars

Duff's choices--
The Godfather
Citizen Kane
The Wrong Man (Hitchcock)
No Country for Old Men
Scarface

Books:

AR--
Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman
American Gods by Neil Gaiman
The Fifth Elephant by Terry Pratchett
The Twilight Watch by Sergei Lukyanenko
Watchmen by Alan Moore (it's a comic, but it was in Time's list of the top novels of the 20th century . . . if they say it counts, so do I).

Duff--
The Road, Cormac McCarthy
Blood Meridian, Cormac McCarthy
From Beirut to Jerusalem, Thomas Friedman
The Sun Also Rises, Hemingway
The Jungle, Upton Sinclair

Musical Artists:

AR--
Guns N' Roses
Nine Inch Nails (now we've got the obvious out of the way)
Tool
Pearl Jam
The Dresden Dolls (this will change, but I've been listening to them so much lately I have to mention them).

Duff (at the moment)--
Black Flag
Queen
Prince
Germs
Zeppelin

Top things that bother you:

AR--
Crowds (I often have to duck into a coffee shop in busy shopping centres to stop myself having a panic attack)
People who only listen to rock, and believe anything else is not really music
People who only like music that isn't popular/in the charts (different extremes of the same thing)
Having to not say what I think when a customer is being an unreasonable little bitch
My favourite songs in commercials (yes, I went there)

Duff--
People asking me if VR has a new singer.
People asking me when "GNR is getting back together."
People not knowing to take off their belts and shoes at airport security (shit, my DAUGHTERS know to do that!)
Politicians
Corporate greed

The thing you missed out on, the year you were born:

AR--
I missed the Jackson 5/Michael Jackson Victory Tour.

Duff--
I missed the Bay of Pigs conflict.( by a year)

I forgot to mention, that Anthony is 26, and I, 20 years his senior.

I am a young older-guy.

He? A grumpy, young older-guy!



http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2 ? s.php#more

[Smoking Guns]

That was fantastic!  Way to go Axl Reznor!

[FunkyMonkey]

Writing a Great Song Is No Longer Enough

By Duff McKagan, Thu., Mar. 17 2011

As I write this, I'm sitting in the exit-row seat of a Southwest Airlines flight from Los Angeles to Austin, Texas. Thursday afternoon I will be speaking about the business of music to musicians and perhaps some industry types who are maybe interested in what I have to say, and the angle in which I shall try to deliver it all.
 
But the real reason for my trip is that I will be playing my first public gig with my band Loaded since December 19, 2009.

The South-by-Southwest Music Festival (SXSW) started in 1987, and used to be primarily ALL about unsigned bands making their way to Austin in hopes of securing a record deal with the many labels who would also flock to that city hoping to catch a rising star. That made a bunch of sense for the music-business model that was in place at the time.

These days, the whole scope and breadth of the commercial side of music has observed a radical sea change. SXSW has changed along with it, and now the focus down there seems to be on news frontiers in digital music, film, and all things Information Age. The subject that I will be speaking on is the ever-changing field which a touring and recording band must adapt to. Most of the younger bands I know about have become mini-geniuses at things like inventory control, Tune-Core, and the price of gasoline in different regions of the country. You have to be smart and have the ability to adapt quickly these days, as WELL as write a great song.

Back in the 1980s, when I got my first major-label deal, I simply couldn't have cared less about how everything worked in a business sense. It all seemed so massive and beyond my scope of knowledge that I just sort of shut down intellectually and turned a blind eye to some really important things. I didn't realize that, as a principal business owner in GNR Inc., I was paying everyone who worked for us, and that they should have provided me with sober and clear-cut reportage of our growing empire. Luckily--and it was only by the fact that we sort of ruled by fear--no one really ripped us off. Sure, we overspent and were not that smart about our personal dough--but in the end, no one who worked for us blatantly stole. They could have.

Our Loaded gig Friday at the Austin Music Hall is a perfect example of how things are changing in my industry. Partnerships with outside sources are now just a personally agreeable way to make touring affordable. Monster Energy Drink is sponsoring the gig, and also sponsoring a bunch of our tour. It was mutually agreeable to me because Monster just wants to be associated with certain rock bands. They don't want you to overtly advertise or publicly pimp their product. It is just more of a word-of-mouth thing that seems to work.

Monster is by no means the only company doing this sort of thing. Chevy and Ford support a lot of country acts. Toyota and Coca-Cola are behind a ton of the larger rock and pop artists. Clothing companies are in on this thing too, and as long as it doesn't rub the fan in some sort of cheesy sales pitch, I certainly don't see the harm for a number of reasons:

1. Artists aren't making the money from records any more. Period.

2. Fans have less money to spend on T-shirts and such these days (hence, artists are not able to use that income to help offset tour costs).

3. I drink the SHIT out of energy drinks, so what the hell. Monster is a PERFECT partner for my band.

AxlReznor (a constant, if not sometimes cynical, commenter to this column) and I got into a fairly lengthy conversation about this stuff when he and I met in the UK a couple of weeks back. He was dead-set against this sort of tour-sponsorship thing. When I started to explain to him how much it costs to tour, and the dwindling revenue streams, he suddenly rose in his seat and partially saw the light. Even the most ardent "anti-corporation" fan like him understands the economics, and suddenly things just seem less offensive and crass. It's not as if I or my band is out there suddenly hawking condoms or jeans.

These are indeed changing times in my industry, and everywhere for that matter. I love to tour and play music live. There are people who still love to see live music as much as they can. More and more, there will be new ways for different industries to marry and help each other. The ultimate winner, I believe, will be the fan.

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2011/03/duff_mckagan_sxsw.php

[FunkyMonkey]

Try, a Short Story By Duff McKagan

By Duff McKagan, Thu., Mar. 24 2011

I have yet to write a fictional short story for Seattle Weekly. But in my quest for new and interesting ways to engage readers, I thought it would be sort of different to start a story, and see where it leads. I never know ahead of time what might come out when I write from week-to-week, and my editor, Chris Kornelis, encouraged this latest idea. If some of you want to take a stab at trying to add to this piece, please do.
* * * * *
She sensed that this was the point . . . the very stark moment that she had lost him. He hadn't come home for three days. The sheriff had stopped coming by to check for news.

His drunken yet cheerful voice gone--a drunk who was dampening down his intellect from the outside world--James was too smart for this place and its noise.

James had crossed the river bridge to the other side of town, a crossing he made to escape into a seedier life. It was a place where few would inquire about his intentions in this life, where no one cared what he was going to do with all of his credentials and intellect. No, the people on this side of the tracks would leave him be with his drink; unquestioned and intoxicated.

He would bring extra bottles over that river bridge, and sometimes buy folks at the bar a shot of their poison. He had no interest in making friends. But he knew this was the kind of favor that kept a mouth from wagging. The locals obliged, and the sight of James passed out in the gutter, or in the corner of the last watering hole of his evening, was met without even a whisper.

His liver would not work so well anymore, and his kidneys rebelled--causing his back to ache when he pissed. When the chance came to puke, and there was scant booze around, James would drink back up the fleeing fluid from his belly. He convinced himself that made sense.

Melanie wanted James to change his ways. To redirect his downward spiral into an abyss that would surely end with an early grave. Melanie knew James long before the problem had grown this bad. Sure, he drank then too--but not with the bad intention that it now had. He loved her, there was no doubt of that. But he couldn't say the same about himself. All that everyone else had expected of him was never attained. And he never wanted it. Ever. Any of it.

James was once a good-looking man, and he and Melanie were a couple whom others envied. They had the world in their back pocket, and youth was rarely better served. Melanie kept her beauty, but lines now appeared prematurely on her face, and her neck was habitually arched forward from worry and stress and heartache. James hated himself even more for this fact.

He had tried to quit many times. The shakes and panic would come in waves when he tried. His bowels would loosen and his skin would crawl as if a fire lay just beneath the surface. He had no one to go to for help. By now all of his friends had either died from the sickness or moved far, far away. Melanie and James had no family that they knew of. They were alone. He was alone. She was alone. They never thought that it would get this far. Those who had expected so much of James early on had long since abandoned all hope and fellowship.

They tried everything. In those days, a doctor would simply suggest sending James to an institution for the mentally infirm. James would not. Melanie too tried with the traveling salesmen of potions and medicinal elixirs. They, in their one-horse-drawn buggy, with gaudy signs telling of "cure-alls" and opium for "frontier boredom" and sunburn.

Melanie was a good customer, and salesmen sought her out. They kept coming well after James had given up on their snake oil.

The footbridge across the river was new. On one side lay the fertile fruit-crop fields fed by melted snow from the mountains 20 miles west. But on the east side of the river, the desert crept all the way to its edge, choking all hope of a crop or shade. It was a good place to put all of the saloons that were recently banned by the civic community in the west-side town of Natachee. The saloons were the perfect place for James to push back on his gift. He was too smart for this life, his mind and soul were just too aware of the dark things that man was capable of. He felt he could no longer do anything to protect Melanie from the evils.

Melanie slept with another man just after she and James were married; just after she lost her baby in its second term; just after they had to cut her inside, to save her life, but ending her ability to ever give one again herself.

James didn't give up. He said there were plenty of babies that they could give a home to, babies whose parents had perished in a mountain pass crossing, perhaps, or the unmentionable, a baby whose mother had become pregnant out of wedlock. Shame was too oppressive back then.

But Melanie couldn't bring herself to think of not having a baby of her own. And by the time the idea did start to come around to her, James was too far gone.

James kept thinking of the story his mother used to tell him as a child about a frog who lived at the bottom of a well. The frog was so very happy with life, what with plenty of water, just enough bugs, and a little bit of sunlight each day. A few times a day, a bucket would come down, but other than that, life was divine for this frog. But one day he was scooped up by this bucket. When he got to the top, the frog was dumped out gently onto the ground. "Oh, my!" said the frog. He did not realize that up here there was sunshine ALL the day long, and more bugs than he could ever want, and other frogs to talk with.

James crossed the river again to the east.

She would mutter to herself until she was hoarse: "Try, James. Try. Try. Just try," until she cried herself to sleep.

A frog croaked out in the moonlight. Tomorrow there could be sun. If it is not too late.

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2011/03/try_a_short_story_by_duff_mcka.php#more

[FunkyMonkey]

The Seattle Sound(s)

By Duff McKagan, Thu., Apr. 7 2011

Leading up to next week's release of The Taking, the new record from my band, Loaded, I've been put once more through the endless gauntlet of music-press and rock-radio interviews. I'm not complaining. I suppose there would be a need for a modicum of worry if the interview requests suddenly waned.
Next week also brings to public display a new installment at the Experience Music Project here in Seattle, Nirvana: Taking Punk to the Masses. My editor here at the Weekly asked me if I could somehow tie these two things together in one single column (Nirvana/EMP, and Loaded/The Taking). I actually think I can. It goes like this:

In doing all of this press for my new record, one constant theme has arisen from almost every interviewer: "This new Loaded record sounds very Seattle." The interviewers then go on to ask me if, by my living back in Seattle, this has given the new Loaded song-making process a Northwest slant. "Uh, no," I answer. I've lived back in Seattle since '93.

One thing that has struck me as obvious ever since I started listening to the early punk-rock singles and records that were coming from places outside of Seattle is that it was totally evident that our wet and cold environs here in the Northwest totally influenced the sound of its rock bands. We play in cold basements with jackets and hats on. The strings are damp. The guitar and drums are made of wood, which is also damp. The paper-speakers in the amp-cabinets are damp. We are playing music with LAYERS on! This makes the actual act of playing much more uncomfortable and a lot less fluid. The "Seattle Sound" is a by-product of our environment. Literally.

When I moved to L.A in 1984, I noticed gear just plain sounded different. I'm not kidding.

Another big difference that I noticed outside of Seattle was a real sense of competition between bands that were playing on the same bill or in the same "scene." In Seattle, there was just really none of that. Bands would loan each other gear and the use of a rehearsal basement and van or pickup for getting to gigs. Musical ideas up here were thought to be a thing to share, not to closet. This really led to a identifiable "sound" of sorts.

I'm not quite sure just why Nirvana has become arguably the most beloved band from this era that made the "Seattle Sound" famous. Alice In Chains were among the first of that era, and have withstood the test of time (and . . . death). Soundgarden pushed the edges of musicianship to the edges of genius, and are seemingly back. Pearl Jam have been the clarion-steady thing--always selling out arenas everywhere they go (no matter if there is a current "radio song" or not). The Melvins? Mudhoney?

This Loaded effort can also be associated with the Seattle sound and some of the aforementioned bands in that it was produced by a fella by the name of Terry Date. Terry produced or recorded a whole slew of these early demos and records, and he produced our new Loaded record. The studio is the same, too (Studio X nee Bad Animals). The way he mikes-up drums and guitar cabinets is the same. The way he pushes a vocal through on his mixes is the same. Dry and hard and tough, and without bluster or shine. Just brutal. In other words: the same old Terry Date. He sorta rules.

So what does the "Seattle Sound" mean today? If you are over, say, 35 years old, well then you probably equate it to these bands above. But one of the great things that happens up here is a change of identity, a constant evolution. Today the "Seattle Sound" is being defined by alt-folks, the likes of Fleet Foxes and The Head and the Heart. And what about bands like Death Cab? They sort of scrubbed the "old guard" rock out of this town. Not in a bad way either. DCFC are fuckin' genius!

I know that I am bouncing around a bit here, and that's just the point. This town has really done a fine job of providing a variety of musical identities. And yes, I didn't even get to the Sonics, Hendrix, Heart, or Queensryche! . . . heh, heh . . or The Fartz.

The Nirvana exhibit is a fitting time capsule of one of the sounds that has defined Seattle. But there have been many sounds that have defined this great musical city.

Loaded will be playing two upcoming gigs in Seattle. At Easy Street Records on Mercer on National Record Store Day (April 16), and a record-release party at Neumos on April 23. The gig on the 23rd will include an auction of rock and sports and fishing items of greatness, to benefit the VA Puget Sound Health Care System.

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2011/04/the_seattle_sounds.php

[FunkyMonkey]

Duff McKagan
A Walk Back Home

By Duff McKagan, Thu., Apr. 21 2011

Going back in time is just not a thing I spend a lot of time doing. Nor is keeping "current" with everything around me something that I strive for. I have kids, so that naturally keeps a parent's headspace in the here and now. I have had "new" rock bands over the last 15 years, too, and this keeps my striving for a current musical "voice" somewhat relevant, I hope. Or is that it?
Last Friday, I was invited to the opening of the new Nirvana exhibit at the EMP here in Seattle. I am a fan of the band, and understand and totally respect the sheer weight that the band had (duh). But I am one of those guys who has never been into seeing a guitar or drum kit or item of clothing that some historical rock artist played or wore. That kind of stuff just doesn't have much parity to the live rock experience for me. So in saying that, I wasn't quite sure just why in fact I found myself in my car driving down to the EMP during rush hour last week.

Seeing a band live has always been the "thing" for me. When I was young, and music was either on the 12" or 7" vinyl format, finding a new band at the record store was just too damn exciting. Punk rock had a young and small-but-mighty little scene in Seattle. Flyers on telephone poles around town announced whenever and wherever there were gigs. Often times, I would buy a single by some band, and I would see them play a show downtown somewhere within the same month or two. There was no Internet. There were no cell phones. It was all word-of-mouth and what you might read in some rare but hard-won fanzine like Maximum Rock 'n' Roll or Punk or Sniffin' Glue.

I kind of forget about this time. Well, I mean, that era still does everything for me in the most base way. I think of that energy then, and it still pushes me on to this day. In playing live shows, writing songs, being a dad, being a husband. "Punk Rock" to me is just truly about being honest, upstanding, and virtuous. Period.

So I walk in the EMP. In front of me is a stage where various dignitaries and financial backers are speaking about the exhibit. They are about to unveil it at any moment. I'm just kind of standing there, and I suddenly notice that the whole walk-through Nirvana exhibit is to my left. Empty. No one has gone through yet. I make my way over as I feel an odd pull.

On the wall is a display of records that Kurt or Krist or Dave all probably listened to in the early 80s: Black Flag's My War and the Germs' GI, among others. The same records that I listened to. Seeing those record covers on the wall brought back amazing memories.

On another wall was a sort of tapestry made from all of those local punk-rock flyers that I also have in a box somewhere in my attic. If those records were the soundtrack of my youth, then those flyers were the artwork that informed my young visual journey. An absolutely stunning moment there, suddenly, and out of nowhere there at the EMP, I was transported back in time.

I feel so damn fortunate to be playing gigs to this day. Those experiences in my youth still inform my whole being. Every time I get on a stage, I suddenly and instantly turn into a seething and drooling punker. I'm the luckiest man in the world to have had those early imprints that filled my cupeth to overflow.

I came out of that exhibit, and there was Ben Sheppard and Kim Thayil. Two friends that I know share a lot of the same experiences from our youth. Those dudes are still as real as it gets because of it. I was glad to see some guys right then and there who could somehow bring me back to the present . . . without talking about the past.

Have you ever just had one of those days, where you are just plain glad it happened? That was my day last Friday. Punk rock is alive and well on the insides of your author. Long live!

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2011/04/a_walk_back_home.php

[FunkyMonkey]

Cinema Verite and Debunking the Myth of American Innocence

By Duff McKagan, Thu., Apr. 28 2011

I am a product of the '70s. To this day, a lot of how I think and act out on different scenarios are informed by the barrage of childhood imprints that happened during that decade. FM radio. The Vietnam War. Punk rock. The Nixon impeachment. PBS television.

Television, for me as a kid, was not at all the babysitter it is now; there just weren't that many good shows and only five channels back then: CBS, NBC, ABC, PBS, and a local channel that played reruns of older shows. Going outside was just a funner and better option then.

Daytime network TV was filled with soap operas, much as it is now. But there were some forward-thinking exceptions in the day, like the weirder-than-weird Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman. Nighttime network TV was just then experimenting with the "mini-series" concept--great events like Roots, Rich Man, Poor Man, and The Thorn Birds came to form in this arena.

But PBS was always the sort of go-to place if you wanted something different. I guess it kind of still is, but there are just so many channels now that PBS just kind of gets thrown into the drone and hum of it all. But in the 1970s, Monty Python, Benny Hill, and The Saint were all very exotic TV shows. A chance to really escape to places with a different humor, or simply a different accent than our American one.

Just this month, HBO has released a new full-length movie called Cinema Verite, starring Diane Lane and Tim Robbins. The producers of HBO have decided to sort of re-examine a 10-part documentary that PBS released in 1973 called An American Family. The original documentary planted a camera crew inside the home of a rich, seemingly decaying, Santa Barbara, California family. It was supposed to expose the viewer to the REAL America "behind closed doors." The first reality show, one could say.

I remember the TV event being something of shock to the American system back then. But at the age of 9 or so, I was obviously too young to really be able to understand the documentary and its multilayered complexities. From the outside, Bill and Patricia Loud and their kids (aged 16 to 21) seemed like a West Coast counterpart to the Kennedy's Camelot: rich, good looking, and seemingly very happy. In reality, Bill was having numerous affairs, Pat was drinking herself into a dark and lonely corner, and the oldest son Lance was celebrating his homosexuality on camera, as his parents put on blinders to it all. Really quite fascinating.

The late 1960s and early '70s was a time in America when the innocence of the smiling and tanned superpower nation finally woke up and smelled the napalm which it was socially mired in. If you weren't around yet to understand the transformation of the '70s, catch HBO's Cinema Verite for a peek inside.

The interesting inside view that Cinema Verite shows is how the lead producer of An American Family probably manipulated the situation with the Loud family to get as much drama as possible.

You must understand that this documentary was meant to be observation in its purest form, and the camera crew and producers were supposed to be an invisible element inside the home and in the Loud family in general. The producer may have done things like push Pat to ask Bill for a divorce on camera, and perhaps even pushed Lance to act as gay as possible when the cameras were rolling.

We all know these days that "reality shows" are often far from "real," but back when An American Family began to air, the Loud family went into complete shock at what they saw.

I don't usually give movie reviews here in this space, but this HBO film really got me thinking, and gave me some scope and history to real situations being filmed on TV these days.

Enjoy!

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2011/04/duff_mckagan_cinema_verite.php#more

[FunkyMonkey]

Can We Now Get Back to Being Human?

By Duff McKagan, Thu., May 5 2011

By now there is scant little that I could possibly add to the actual detail of the capture and killing of Osama bin Laden. Well, nothing at least, that hasn't been said or printed hundreds of times by now.

This column of mine started a couple of years ago with me writing from a more personal slant. I write about things like mountain climbing, rock tours, being a dad, and flexing the fact that I am a bad-ass (in spite of the fact that my wife always wants me to get a gallon of milk on my way home--even though I may very well be on my damn Harley-Davidson Road King motorcycle).

I've been getting away from some of these personal stories in the last few months. Sometimes it is because I have been too busy. Other times, because I just don't feel that I have anything of substance to offer that particular week.

I received an email on my Blackberry Sunday night from a friend, who insisted that I urgently turn on CNN. I did. When the screen flashed a message stating that 'OSAMA BIN LADEN IS DEAD' I was completely awestruck and silenced. My wife and two daughters gathered around me, and together, we witnessed this story unfold. As a family. My now 10 and 13 year-old girls, will never really know of the dire concerns I had about their safety and future 9 and a half years ago when 9/11 happened.

I woke up at 7 a.m. PST on the morning of September 11, 2001. I was looking forward to starting a new semester at Seattle University the following week, and with two babies at home, I was probably one of the happiest and most content men on this planet. Things were just plain good for me.

Like every morning before and since, I have either CNN on the TV, or BBC News on the radio. This particular morning, CNN's Headline News was on as I was making coffee.

The news usually is just a way to start the day somewhat informed for me, but that morning, there was a strange story on about a small plane that crashed into one of New York's Twin Towers. What? Well, they WERE very tall, and aviation accidents DO happen. But THIS? Right in the middle of Manhattan?! I sat down to watch.

The next thing that we all saw on TV was the horrible sight of a massive passenger plane slamming into the second tower. With no previous experience of this kind of thing happening before in history, the newscasters were left stunned and speechless, and my brain just could not comprehend what the hell was going on. I sat there in my living room, silently locked on to the television.

The following reports of the Pentagon attack and the plane going down in a field in Pennsylvania quickly illuminated the facts that the U.S. was under a terrorist attack. For what act? And, by whom?

All I could think of was to get my family safe.

As all of the facts about Osama Bin Laden and al Queda started to get dispersed to all of the news agents, and all of the facts about people jumping from the higher floors of the towers, and then the Twin Towers imploding to the ground with all of the innocent people inside, and the Fire Fighters trying to rescue them....I sat and tried to figure some of this shit out. 10 years later, I am still trying to figure this shit out.

In the 2 weeks that followed, I started into a sort of downward spiral that I believe all of America experienced as a collective. WE as a people, we realized, were not our government's foreign policy. WE as a people, had no interest in 'empire building' or even the Middle East. I, like most other people around the world, just wanted my family safe, and to work hard so that their life could be better than mine. That is just a HUMAN thing, isn't it?

My neighbors, and family, and friends all came together then. I hugged complete strangers in the street. Everything was cancelled. Major League Baseball. Commercial airline travel. Schools. The streets and skies of America were silent and empty. It was scary and profoundly eerie.

But there was a strange sense of unification through all of this. Those of you reading right now, who may not have been old enough then to remember, missed out on a poignant and beautiful time of collective mourning and healing. I had never cried so much before then, or since. It seems corny to some of you I am sure. But that was a time in my life that will just forever stay static and precious.

I immersed myself into educating myself on all things present and past pertaining to tribes and countries in the Middle East. I studied Islam. I read about the Koran, and had previously read a few books of poems and ruminations by the prolific and profoundly sensitive Muslim poet Rumi.

It was my previous experience with Rumi, that actually had me convinced from the get-go of the 9/11 terror attacks, that this was not at all a 'Islam-versus-the-world' Jihad. No, the killing of innocents was nowhere in any doctrine that I could find. These were just fundamentalist assholes like the ones we can find in any state or province in any country around the world...at any time.

I hope now, with this particular fundamentalist gone, we can as humankind get back to being human...and kind to all...all of us, together.

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2011/05/can_we_now_get_back_to_being_h.php#more

[FunkyMonkey]

Duff McKagan: The Top 10 Rock Band Dos and Don'ts

By Duff McKagan, Thu., May 12 2011

It dawned on me the other day that at this point in my life, I have been in one rock band or another for more than 30 years. This rarefied status should definitely give me a point from which to reflect a bit, and maybe even dispel some hard-won knowledge, the things that work and do not work within the makeup of a rock band. No?

With no further ado, then, here is a quick cheat-sheet on some of my wise(assy)ness.

1. Find a good and solid drummer first. Without a great backbeat, your band will simply never get out of the starting gate.

2. After that first solid drummer becomes too much of a pain in the ass--jettison said drummer, and repeat step #1. This process could very well end up consuming the rest of your career!

3. I'm kind of kidding about #1 and #2.

4. Get a singer that has what we call L.S.D.--Lead Singers' Disease. That person has to have the ability to stand in front on a stage, and usually with no guitar to stand behind--and absolutely OWN the whole stage and venue.

Yes, it takes an odd sort to feel comfortable in this odd situation. It usually takes a person who has very high thoughts about his or her own personage. It WILL get old after a while to the other band members. But hell, by the time the band is sick of the singer's antics, the sychophantic managers will already have found a way to wedge the original band guys out of the group.

5. The use of high levels of alcohol and drugs usually play cozy bed-partners to all persons who are in the later stages of #4.

6. Get a bass player who has a good sense of humor, because inevitably the "bass player jokes" will start to chip away at that poor sucker.

(There was a scientist visiting a lost tribe in the jungles of Africa. He was there to document the village life. On the day that the scientist gets to the village, the tribal drummer is playing for hours without a break, and everyone in the tribe seems happy and tranquil. The moment the drums stop, though, the villagers take off screaming through the jungle, away from the village. Then the scientist stops the chief of the tribe before he takes off, and asks why everyone is so scared and fleeing in such an abrupt fashion. The chief looks at the scientist in a panic and says, "Oh, now comes the bass solo.")

7. Guitarists are always cool from the outside. Their appearance onstage is always the envy of all of the "cool people" in the audience. If your kid wants to play an instrument, steer them to this instrument.

8. Everyone in the band should end up helping carry the gear to and from gigs. One thing that the band guys will have to look forward to, though, is the fact that their fitness will eventually be the best. Yeah, singers never DO end up helping in the endless schlepping of gear.

9. If you think I am only speaking of one particular band that I have been in here in this column, you are sorely mistaken. These steps are commonplace with most all rock bands that I have either been in or witnessed.

10. I have played all the above instruments in one band or another, so yes, I have indeed fallen in the trap of every above scenario!

11. Yes, I DID state that this is a "Top 10" list, but we musicians aren't the best at numbers . . . and letters . . . and names . . . and geography . . . and book-learnin'.

12. Have a GOOD sense of humor. If you take all this stuff (like this column) too seriously, then indeed you are not in on the joke--and hence will miss all the "good times" that being in a band will bring you.

13. And once you find yourself in a band, and you feel that the chemistry is perfect and the music is the best thing you can ever be a part of--just enjoy that time. All the other personal crap that you may have to endure, is just that . . . crap.

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/reverb/2011/05/duff_mckagan_the_top_10_rock_b.php