as written for Synthesis

Sammy Hagar. The Red Rocker. Cabo Wabo Man. Jesus Christ Himself, or whatever.

I don’t even know where to begin this rant, but I’ll start here: Sammy Hagar has a brand spanking new autobiography on the shelves entitled Red: My Uncensored Life In Rock, and it is currently topping the New York Times bestseller list. Within the pages of this book, readers are privy to the full Monty of Big Red’s tall tales, or, as redrocker.com would put it, “the drugs, groupies, and excesses of fame, the outrageous stadium tours, and the thrill of musical innovation.” All that and more in this “treasure trove of rock ‘n’ roll war stories” that is, among other things, “life-changing.”

That any rock ‘n’ roll autobiography would debut at #1 on the charts is baffling in its own right, but Sammy Hagar? Honestly. Sammy Hagar? Before attempting to tackle the absurdity of Red’s content, let’s be clear on one thing: Sammy Hagar has always sucked. Always. It’s not even debatable. Have a gander at his qualifications.

Montrose: Probably the worst hard rock band of the 1970s. Or look at it this way: In 1973 all the cool kids were listening to Raw Power. The young adults that would someday make Quiet Riot a national sensation? Montrose.

Solo: Hagar’s singly venture from ‘76-‘85 yielded gems like “There’s Only One Way To Rock” and “I Can’t Drive 55,” the latter being one of most mocked songs in the history of rock music, typifying a genre we now dubiously refer to as “classic.”

Van Halen: Hagar ruined this band, and part of my childhood. “Smells Like Teen Spirit” never made more sense than it did in following “Right Now” on MTV’s Top 20.

The Waboritas, Chickenfoot, etc: I don’t really need to say anything here, other than Chad Smith from the Chili Peppers has lost his mind.

So Red expunges the nitty-gritty of this super-suck resume. And if 256 pages of self-promotion and Eddie Van Halen rips isn’t enough to turn your crank, don’t forget that within Red, you have the once-coveted reality of reading up on the Red Rocker’s short ‘n’ curlies. Yes, yes, you can read about Sammy being blown by studio receptionists, his sex tent orgy exploits, and much, much more, because say hey! “That’s part of the deal. When you’re young and rich and the lead singer of the biggest band in the world, sex is thrown at you…don’t you wish you would’ve been there?”

That from a 63-year-old man with bleached hair and a Cabo Wabo t-shirt. Surely best selling material. Who wouldn’t love it, to spend $15 on an auto-hagiographical biography full of worthless stories?

The real question is that if Sammy Hagar, a man devoid of all relevant cultural value, can spin his tales of ribaldry to the tune of a national best seller, who can’t? I suppose the answer would be anyone rich that likes to get wasted. Hell, I’m calling right now for a redraft of 1991’s Ice By Ice: The Vanilla Ice Story In His Own Words, along with a new Tommy Lee fore and after in Motley Crue: The Dirt, which hopefully will discuss moreover his atavistic gangbangs and general misogyny.

The continued success of egomaniacal rock star idiots like Sammy Hagar is one of those things that sometimes make me think the Romans are coming, that the doomsday device is just behind the curtain. There’s nothing we can do about it, except not buy the damned book. So fuck it. And fuck him. The Red Rocker? Sweet nickname, bro.

Of notable San Franciscan dive bar fame, Thee Parkside played host Friday night to a shoulder-to-shoulder southern metal show that probably should have booked someplace else.  Not because of inadequate staffing or sub-par sound, but rather the fact that it was over-sold. If you’d included those turned away (which were many, as half the line stretching down Wisconsin was told to go home shortly after 9 PM), this bill could have easily filled the Great American or any other mid-sized club in the city.

I’d come to see Zoroaster. But despite having been caught in their wake since the release of Voice of Saturn in March of 2009, not to mention digging on Matador the past year, I’d yet to see the trio live. I was informed prior to the set, however, that they were touring without bass player/founding member Brent Anderson, temporarily replacing him with Whores drummer Travis Owen, and that it was “a little different” when compared with the norm. “Different,” though, did not equate to a negative—Zoroaster was solid, ripping through Matador and choice Saturn cuts with the zeal you would expect from the rising metal sloth. “D.N.R.” emphasized Zoroaster’s stone-psych aspect, while “Ancient Ones” spoke to fans of High On Fire, enabling bottled aggravation from the black-clad horde. Owen passed the test on four-string with flying colors, though his bass-pumping rock antics, while not contrived, certainly stood in contrast to Anderson’s much-lauded ethereality. And they missed Anderson on backing vocals—“Spirit Molecule,” for one, just didn’t have the same cathartic resolve without his Gregorian-like mysticism to close things out.

And then up walks Weedeater, a band I’d shamefully heard lots about but knew almost nothing of, a classic case of “Oh yeah I was gonna but…” Procrastination, though, proved beneficial, as it allowed for that rare opportunity to have my doors blown completely off.

Weedeater, inked to Southern Lord, showed up and dropped a dump truck load of stony doom atop the Parkside, stacks hissing with enough down-tuned fuzz to bleed your eardrums before putting you to sleep, and it was fantastic. I mean it was that good a first impression, and I was sold from the opening riff of “Hammerhandle.” They hit the audience with new material off Jason…The Dragon, including the devastating title track (“Abandon ship, and burn that fucking flag!“), but weren’t above taking a couple steps back , a la “Dummy,” off their 2003 release God Luck and Good Speed. But part of the true beauty I found in Weedeater, as they lumbered like a coked-out dinosaur, was a certain down-to-earth emanation wafting off stage. Perhaps it was offbeat southern hospitality, or the fact that “Dixie” Dave Collins looked like a cross-eyed hillbilly sick on whiskey while Dave Shepard could have been pumping gas and Keith Kirkum appeared plucked outta the Haight. Or I don’t know what. Maybe it was just that Weedeater was tight as a snare drum, each member owning their respective deed like a feudal boyar.

Whichever the case, I wound up understanding in full why the Parkside was over-sold, and I didn’t blame them for doing so. I’d want Weedeater to play at my fuckin’ bar, too.

March 15–Albuquerque, NM–Launchpad
March 18–Austin, TX–SXSW
March 19–San Antonio, TX–Korova
March 20–New Orleans, LA–Siberia
March 22–Tampa, FL–Orpheum
March 23–Orlando, FL–Backbooth
March 24–Atlanta, GA–The Earl
March 25–Spartanburg, SC–Ground Zero
March 26–Savannah, GA–The Jinx

Alive and kicking with southern-fried Brit pop chops, the Booze are back for another sweaty go-round with the March release of At Maximum Volume, the Atlanta-based quintet’s fourth LP. Released by Underrated Recordings, Maximum Volume, on the whole,  taps deeper into mid-’70s Stones than previous works like Straight, No Chaser, which hearkened more towards the Zombies’ side of the British spectrum, though little is lost in believability. Back on the road come March 12th, the Booze will head west and everywhere in between:

Mar. 12 – Atlanta, GA – The Star Bar (release show)
Mar. 16 – New Orleans, LA – Siberia*
Mar. 17 – Houston, TX – Rudyards*
Mar. 19 – Austin, TX – The Parlor (SXSW)*
Mar. 20 – San Angelo, TX – The Deadhorse
Mar. 21 – El Paso, TX – M’s Lips Lounge*
Mar. 22 – Tempe, AZ – Yucca Tap Room*
Mar. 23 – San Diego, CA – Eleven*
Mar. 24 – Los Angeles, CA – Redwood Bar*
Mar. 25 – Fullerton, CA – Slidebar*
Mar. 26 – San Francisco, CA – Thee Parkside*
Mar. 27 – Sacramento, CA – The Hub*
Mar. 30 – San Jose, CA – Blank Club*
Mar. 31 – Reno, NV – Lincoln Lounge
Apr. 01 – Portland, OR – East End*
Apr. 02 – Seattle, WA – The Comet Tavern*
Apr. 03 – Boise, ID – Gustos*
Apr. 04 – Salt Lake City, UT – Burt’s Tiki Lounge*
Apr. 05 – Fort Collins, CO – Surfside 7*
Apr. 06 – Denver, CO – 3 Kings Tavern*
Apr. 07 – Colorado Springs, CO – Triple Nickel Tavern*
Apr. 08 – Omaha, NE – Slowdown*
Apr. 09 – St Louis, MO – Cicero’s*
Apr. 10 – Memphis, TN – Murphy’s*
May 19 – Indianapolis, IN – Rock Lobster*
May 20 – Milwaukee, WI – Quarter’s Rock N Roll Palace*
May 21 – Chicago, IL – Beat Kitchen*
May 22 – Cleveland, OH – Now That’s Class*

(*with the Biters)

Now dig this MP3: “Kick Me Where It Hurts”