Ya know, 2020 can just go suck the big one at this point. As if you needed any other reason to be bummed out for a bit, comes the heartbreaking news that Ron Heathman, guitar virtuoso from the Supersuckers who had morphed into a certified coffee brew master extraordinaire, has passed away. The Loud Pipes played a shitload of gigs with the Supersuckers back in the days (the gig at the Boston in '04 is the stuff of Legend), both bands had sponsorship from Zinky Guitars, and I was more than fortunate to be a fly on the wall when Ron and Jesse would hold court and talk gear and BS every time they ran into each other. When I first met Ron I made the obvious joke of asking him where the cocaine was (Ron's Got The Cocaine) and he started reaching into his front shirt pocket, setting the room into fits of laughter. He was a cool dude, and watching him rip through all those classic Supersuckers songs was truly a blessing. I've lost all the pictures I've taken of the band over the years, but that doesn't make the memories of all those fun filled, alcohol fueled, debaucherous times any less vivid or grin inducing. I'm proud to have known him, proud to say he was someone I met, and even prouder to say I saw him play. He was definitely one of the truest most Rock and Roll dudes I've ever met in my life, and he will be missed that's for damn sure. Condolences to his family and friends. Let's pour ourselves a strong drink of your choice and spend some time listening to some Supersuckers at a ridiculously loud volume like I currently am, and raise your glass and give a toast to a guy who was truly one of the good ones, the legendary Ron "Rontrose" Heathman. The world is just a little bit darker today because of his passing, and that fucking sucks. RIP Ron. Go easy. Step lightly. Stay Free. Salud!
There are literally years and years of stuff lost from this website, and by lost I mean it was once there and now it's not. Show reviews, loads and loads of Idle Gossip, videos, flyers, music reviews and the most painful of all the losses, the Pictures. Oh the Pictures. 💔 There's many reasons why stuff gets lost, but I don't wanna get into it. Whenever I find a snippet of anything that's not on here, from wherever I find it at, old CD's and DVD's mostly, I immediately post it before I forget about it. Now either for Throwback Thursday or Flashback Friday, depending on what day you're reading this, I wanna tell you about 2 Show Reviews I found recently, one from 2003, the other from 2004, and both equally funny for very different reasons.
The first one from 2003 is a write up of a Local night at the Double Clown that saw 1/2 Ast, The Dirty Babies, The Needles and Bobrocks co-mingling with the Hell’s Angels as the night ended with a bottle throwing melee started by Roy from The Black Jetts. Aaaaaahhh, the good ol' days 🤣🤣🤣 Click here if you're interested. The second Show Review is from 2004 and it's about when Agent Orange, D.I., Guilty By Association and Sloka played The Boston, the "new" Boston on Flamingo / Maryland, not the one that used to be on D.I. / Jones. That one is funny because of me slagging off GBA and also not remembering the stealing beers part of the evening... heh. Click here if you wanna check that out. I tell people I used to be fun and do fun and interesting things all the time. Unfortunately this is a testament to how stupid I used to be, and how interesting the Las Vegas used to be 15+ years ago...
Look, I'm not gonna sit here and try to bullshit you about what a great friendship Brookelyn and I had, because in the end we didn't have one. In the beginning sure but at the end? Fuck no. Truth be told she had me banned and blocked on Facebook and for the life of me I can't remember why. Doesn't matter really. Our relationship ended ugly, bigly ugly, HUGELY ugly, to put it politely, and the last time I saw her in person, downtown in the hedges, is the stuff of legend. I tell everyone the story but I won't share it here... heh heh I had no idea what she was up to as of late, and only knew of the little bit that I did know about her from hearsay and idle gossip from mutual friends. She moved back to Virginia to get away from the Vegas disease and everything that comes with it I heard. She opened an art gallery. She sold real estate. She left it all behind. She grew up. She moved on. I was kind of happy for her. And while I held no aspirations of a Suite 666 reunion with her, as I was rather embarrassed that she carried on with the band once George and I left, as I always am when bands try to replace me with other drummers, but I always wished we could of stayed friends or at lease personable. I did love her, as we all did, because she just had that endearing quality about her that just made you want to know her better, to befriend her and be a part of her world, no matter how big or small that part was. She truly was Art personified though, living it, breathing it, living for it, and living to create it with anyone and everyone. She loved jamming and playing and carried on writing poetry doing her art thing and raising hell in the local music scene with various musicians and drug addicts who were calling themselves musicians, and even in the midst of all the turmoil her sparkling eyes and that cheesy, mischievous smile on her pretty face would stand out. She truly was a piece of work, one of a kind, unforgettable, so when Jeff IM'd me a few days ago asking me if I had heard that Brookelyn had died, I was flabbergasted and a bit shell shocked. You could of told me that a million other people had passed away, and I would've believed you, but you wanna tell me that Brookelyn had died? Hell no. Hell fucking no. That can't be true. No way. She was too tough, too wild, too strong, right? It had to be a mistake or misunderstanding of sorts, right? Right?
But alas it's true. Brookelyn moved on and left us behind a few days ago. I'm not sure what the cause was and in the long run it really doesn't matter because she's gone and that's all there is to it. I'm sure if we weren't all under quarantine someone would of announced a memorial service of sorts for her at ye olde Double Clowne, but maybe not. The Las Vegas music scene is a fickle cunt sometimes, but truth be told there's not a lot of us still around much less still living here who would remember her fondly or even bother to care to get off their couch to go somewhere for her remembrance. If there was one though it would involve lots of cheap tequila, dollar store Viagra, and fetish costumes of some sort, where we would sit around and do shots and get shit faced and loud and carry on and tell crazy Brookelyn stories - lord knows I got a million of them! And I'm sure if you were lucky enough to spend any amount of time in Brookelyn's presence that you do too. That's just the type of girl she was.
When you ride around with someone for hours at a time, seeing the world pass you by from the comfort of the bench seating inside a cargo van, playing music together, writing songs, being in a band with them and with all the vices and self destructive behavior that comes along with it, all the shared highs, the lows, the booze, drugs, sweat, and blood, a bond is formed, for better or worse, and Brookelyn and I definitely had that bond. She had the ear for a good hook, and her lyrics were disturbing demonic poetry, and I feel honored and privileged to have played the small part that I did in bringing her musical aspirations to life. I'm sad that she's gone, sad that I'll never hear her ask me to check out this riff she's been working on again, sad that I'll never hear her drunkenly yelling my name across a packed bar calling me over to do a shot of tequila with her ever again. She was truly one of God's unique little creations, and her time on this planet was much too short to appreciate it all. If there's anyone who deserves to find peace in the afterlife it's Brookelyn. I hope that she did, and I hope that she's happy and smiling forever and ever. Through her music she will always be a presence in my life, and no one truly dies unless they're forgotten about, and Brookelyn will never be forgotten about by me, that's for damn sure!! ❤ I hope she forgives me, I hope I get to see her again, and most of all, I hope she finds the peace she was always looking for down here with the rest of us. I'm gonna miss her. A lot.
Go easy... step lightly... stay free. Salud!
When I woke up the other day and read the announcement from The Jagoffs on social media that they were calling it a day, I can't say it was a shock. It's a bit of a bummer for sure but it's not a shock. Nope. It wasn't that they weren't a good band, because they were, mining a fundamental Punk Rock sound that they mixed with some subtle Metal sensibilities for all it's worth, but it was more like because I saw them get sucked into that never ending vortex of playing the same shitty bars over and over again, opening up for every touring band that played here on a Thursday night, and if you're in a shitty band that only cares about drinking beers in the parking lot on the downlow, then that's great but if you're a band that actually wants to do more than that, like tour and record and support the scene, well then that vicious circle is gonna lead to burnout and frustration. Not saying that's what happened here, but I bet that I'm close to what the story is.
I caught an early Jagoffs gig at the Dive, saw some potential in the band, took a few pictures of them playing and left it at that, figuring that I'd see them play again somewhere down the line but I never did. Oops. They put something out, a release they called Smear Campaign, and promised to get me a copy of said release but never did, and by the time I had found out they put out a 2nd release called Class War and then gave it a review a month later (read it here) they announced they were broke up. Ugh. The bands posting listed a pseudo version of creative differences among other things as the reason for breaking up but I'm sure that even if the Gage father and son duo who make up the bass and vocals of The Jagoffs weren't moving away the band would still be finished. Vegas is a small town and the pool of musical talent here is more like a puddle. Very slim pickings indeed. Listening to the recordings of The Jagoffs shows a good band that cared about putting quality stuff out there and contributing to the scene whenever possible, which is exactly why they floundered here. The Vegas scene doesn't like those type of bands. We don't support them. Vegas doesn't want good bands that play good music, they want cool bands that are cool to be seen with and to say that you know, and if you don't know the difference I feel sorry for you. Yeah, The Jagoffs had their moment in the sun while they were here, opening up for some good bands in the process and ultimately falling victim to the Vegas curse of band burnout and it's a shame they're finito. Either that or the losers curse of the shitty places they played here in Vegas rubbed off on them like King Tut's curse did to those who discovered it. Le sigh. As they themselves said in that Facebook posting, it's not the end of the story but just another chapter and unfortunately for us, The Jagoffs Las Vegas chapter is now officially closed, and we're the worse off because of it. Good luck guys with whatever you chose to do, wherever you choose to do it. Salud!
I'd feel remiss if I didn't say something about someone from The Misfits passing away, what with the name of the website and all that, plus a fellow drummer, one who played on 2 of the most famous, most distinctive, seminal, mind melting releases ever committed to vinyl, the Horror Business and Night Of The Living Dead 7", the gentleman known professionally as Joey Image, and to his friends as Joey Poole. Never met the man, pretty sure I never saw him play with the Misfits, and I couldn't pick him out of a police lineup if my life depended on it but still, his contributions to the bands legacy cannot be overlooked or ignored. Can you imagine being the drummer for the Misfits in 1978 and playing all those classic early songs live? My heart skips a beat just thinking about it!! I mean, those songs still give me goosebumps 40 something years later, and I still don't know or care what they mean! PSYCHO 78!! 😎 The only thing certain in Life is Death, and this mortality thing is creeping up on me with the quickness, but I've always figured I was living on borrowed time anyways, so I'm always ready to go. Anywho, raise your Misfits shot glass with your officially sanctioned Misfits studded leather fingerless glove, while wearing your licensed to Hot Topic Misfits tee shirt, and put on Disc 3 of the super legit Misfits box set with the far more fun recordings and play that shit LOUD and have a drink for a strong guy who fought the good fight for as long as he could and hopefully, did it with no regrets. Mr. Joey Image R.I.P. He wasn't no gawd dam son of a bitch, that's for sure. 😉 Salud!!