There was a Riot in Tahoe, Tell Me, Where Were You?

The names and identities of the characters in this story have not been changed for their protection, truthfully they really don't give a shit.

Being friends with bands definitely has its perks, one of them being transportation to out of town shows. On this hot, sticky, Sacramento summer day Rob, the bass player for The Left Hand picked me up from my apartment. Our destination was Tahoe.

It was the weekend before school started and seemed the perfect opportunity for an end of the summer blow out. Crammed in the back seat was my wheelchair, part of the drum kit and eventually this guy Doc, whom we picked up in Placerville on the ride up the hill.

We had made this trek before and already knew the drill. We met up with the rest of the band and other friends at the hotel room across the street from the Whiskey Dicks Saloon were the band would be playing later in the evening. Vic (lead singer) and his lady Vanessa were taking a nap and were trying to shake the pre-show jitters after getting into a confrontation with other hotel patrons.




An unsavory Irish man asked Vic if it was OK if Vanessa came and took a nap with him. Of course Vic said no, that was definitely not OK. This set the stage for events which would unfold later on in the night and into the wee hours of the morning.

The show went off with out a hitch, it was great. Pruno, rockabily punk rock band kicked off the festivities with style and high energy. Next we were graced with the musical talents of Pintlifter who traveled all the way from Chico, California. Pintlifter played songs that got the audience involved; they had a captivating way of performing stories. They even sang a song about Pabst Blue Ribbon; fitting because Pabst was the beer of choice that night, enjoyed by all. Then The Left Hand rocked the house, friends, new and old dance the night away. Vic still is undefeated in his notorious on stage beer drinking contest; I pizza cutted peoples toes with my wheelchair in the mosh pit; the floor was sticky with beer and sweat.

In summary the night went just as most nights go in a life of musical misfits, that is until we returned to the hotel rooms with all the bands and all the fans and totally Motley Crue'd that place.

Remember that unsavory Irish man from earlier? Well, he had friends. Six loud, obnoxious, drunken Irish men with heavy accents joined our party filled with tattoo'd punk rockers from Sacramento. Lets just say there was a bit of a cultural gap.

Interesting piece of information: people in Ireland don't burp, at least not in public. One obnoxious Irishman was disgusted, appalled, even astounded when a girl at the party left out a satisfying belch. He explained to us that in his culture people, especially women, wait until they are in private to release the after effects of over carbonation. He was no doubt calling us drunken obnoxious Americans in his head.

Personally, I spent much of the night trying to get as far away from Irishmen as I could. There was something about them that just didn't sit right. Every time I attempted to carry on a conversation with one of them they got two inches from my face. Even when they were at a comfortable speaking distance, their accent was so deep it was hard making out what they were trying to say.

Sure, things went well for a while. Irish guy #1 even shook Vic's hand and apologized for his rude comment about his girlfriend, an attempt to settle the air. Twenty five people hung out, talked music and were generally having fun...that is until someone dared someone else to round house kick the lamp in the hotel room. A little advice, don't ever dare someone who has been drinking to do something, because chances are they are going to do it.

Needless to say we got kicked out of that hotel room, and somehow ended up back at the Irish guys hotel room. That lasted for about a whole five minutes until they got mad because someone put a beer in the microwave. Not a smart idea.

I left the room as soon as the yelling started and the testosterone started seeping, I went around the corner, as I did I heard glass shattering. Soon after it was a free for all. All of the sudden the hotel just started spewing out people. Some were fighting, others were just running to get out of there. It is certain not one person knew exactly what was going on. A friend even said they were just trying to make sure none of our friends were getting beat up, he was just going around pulling obnoxious drunk Irish guys off people.





From this point on it was hard to calculate a direct sequence of events. There was so much going on from so many different angles. A couple of fights broke out right in front of the hotel room. Another mob of people took off across Highway 50 back towards The Whiskey Dicks. That guy Doc called the police and a cab; he went home to Placerville that night, well by this point morning.

The police must have already been notified because upon inspection the back of the hotel a couple of people were being questioned by the cops. I hid behind a mini van for a while until my friends wife called and I had to explain to her why her husband was being questioned and possibly arrested.

By this time it was 4 a.m. and in front of the hotel were six cop cars, two ambulances and a fire truck.

No one got to sleep until after 6 a.m. Of course everyone had to recount the event over and over again, in detail. Everyone had their side of the story and what they saw.

As I lie there laughing to myself about the randomness that I witnessed that night, trying to figure out how I could recap the event on paper, I could still hear six obnoxious drunken Irishmen with heavy accents downstairs partying. But I couldn't understand a word they were saying.

Then I let out a little good night burp.

There was a Riot in Tahoe, Tell Me, Where Were You?

The names and identities of the characters in this story have not been changed for their protection, truthfully they really don't give a shit.

Being friends with bands definitely has its perks, one of them being transportation to out of town shows. On this hot, sticky, Sacramento summer day Rob, the bass player for The Left Hand picked me up from my apartment. Our destination was Tahoe.

It was the weekend before school started and seemed the perfect opportunity for an end of the summer blow out. Crammed in the back seat was my wheelchair, part of the drum kit and eventually this guy Doc, whom we picked up in Placerville on the ride up the hill.

We had made this trek before and already knew the drill. We met up with the rest of the band and other friends at the hotel room across the street from the Whiskey Dicks Saloon were the band would be playing later in the evening. Vic (lead singer) and his lady Vanessa were taking a nap and were trying to shake the pre-show jitters after getting into a confrontation with other hotel patrons.




Apparently, an unsavory Irish man asked Vic if it was OK with him if his girlfriend came and took a nap with him. Obviously Vic said no, that was definitely not OK. This set the stage to events that would unfold later on in the night and into the wee hours of the morning.

The show went off with out a hitch, it was great. Pruno, rockabily punk rock band kicked off the festivities with style and high energy. Next we were graced with the musical talents of Pintlifter who traveled all the way from Chico, California. Pintlifter played songs that got the audience involved; they had a captivating way of telling stories through song. They even sang a song about Pabst Blue Ribbon, which was fitting because that was the beer of choice that night, enjoyed by all. Then The Left Hand rocked the house, friends, new and old dance the night away. Vic still is undefeated in his notorious on stage beer drinking contest, I pizza cutted peoples toes with my wheelchair in the mosh pit, and the floor was sticky with beer and sweat.

In summary the night went just as most nights go in a life of musical misfits, that is until we returned to the hotel rooms with all the bands and all the fans and totally Motley Crue'd that place.

Remember that unsavory Irish man from earlier? Well, he had friends. Six loud, obnoxious, drunken Irish men with heavy accents joined our party filled with tattoo'd punk rockers from Sacramento. Lets just say there was a bit of a cultural gap. Interesting piece of information: people in Ireland don't burp, at least not in public.

Sure, things went well for a while. Irish guy #1 even shook Vic's hand and apologized for his rude comment about his girlfriend, an attempt to settle the air. Twenty five people hung out, talked music and were generally having fun...that is until someone dared someone else to round house kick the lamp in the hotel room. A little advice, don't ever dare someone who has been drinking to do something, because chances are they are going to do it.

Needless to say we got kicked out of that hotel room, and somehow ended up back at the Irish guys hotel room. That lasted for about a whole five minutes until they got mad because someone put a beer in the microwave. Not a smart idea.

I left the room as soon as the yelling started and the testosterone started seeping, I went around the corner and as I did I hear glass shattering. Right after that it was a free for all. All of the sudden the hotel just started spewing out people. Some were fighting, others were just running to get out of there. I really don't think anyone knew exactly what was going on. One person even said they were just trying to make sure none of our friends were getting beat up, he was just going around pulling obnoxious Irish guys off people.







I went up to the front of the hotel to try and figure out why a mob of people went running across the highway chasing someone when I caught that guy Doc calling the police. He ended up taking a cab home all the way back to Placerville that night. The police must have already been notified because upon reaching the back of the hotel I witnessed a couple of people being questioned by the cops. I hid behind a mini van for a while until my friends wife called and I had to explain to her why her husband was being questioned and possibly arrested.

Thats when I went back to the original scene where the drama unfolded and I saw the stretcher. My heart sank. Apparently Vic caught the brunt of the beating and was knocked out. He went to the emergency room for observation. By this time it was 4 a.m. and in front of the hotel were six cop cars, two ambulences and a fire truck.

No one got to sleep until after 6 a.m. and Vic returned safely from the hospital. Of course everyone had to recount the event over and over again, in detail. Everyone had their side of the story and what they saw.

As I lie there laughing to myself about the randomness that I witnessed that night, trying to figure out how I could recap the event on paper I could still hear six obnoxious drunken Irishmen with heavy accents downstairs partying. But I couldn't understand a word they were saying.

Then I let out a little good night burp.

A Day in the Life of a Musical Misfit

Friday night started out just like any other Friday in recent memory. Woke up, prepared for school and sent the child out the door for another day in her educational career.

Although this wasn't just another day, in fact it was the eight year anniversary of Sept. 11. Respectively, this wasn't a day for mourning, this was a day to celebrate life and to celebrate being alive. Which is something I do everyday.

Four years ago I was involved in a serious car accident that resulted in the amputation of both my legs, a fractured hip, and a fractured elbow. Most are shocked when they hear this and it is hard for many to be able to fathom enjoying life after such a tragedy. The fact of the matter is the accident was actually a blessing, and music is something that has improved my quality of life. When I was in the hospital I was taken over by an overwhelming feeling of lose. I lost almost everything, my jobs, my house, my cat, my boyfriend...I could go on and on but it would sound like a country song that you would hate.

The fact of the matter is music was the one thing that could take away this feeling of helplessness. It gave me strength to face everyday, and to face it well. This is the reason why I spend much of my time blanketing myself in the local music scene in Sacramento, CA and this was exactly what I was doing on Sept. 11, 2009.

The venue was Ugly's Tequila Bar in Citrus Heights. The genre, metal.

The first band worth mentioning are Seeds Of Hate, hailing from Santa Rosa, CA. Although it seemed it took a few songs for the band members get into their zone, once they did they were on fire. Stand out song "Art of Combat" is powerfully composed. It was refreshing to be able to differentiate the different notes and melody, especially between the guitars. The music was in a sense, brutally neat. When Seeds of Hate performed Sepultura's "Refuse/Resist" (opening song from their album "Chaos A.D.") the crowd not only went wild, but the band played it well. It was just what everyone needed to get them prepared for what was about to come.

Headlining the show was Trial by Combat, pure Sacto metal from hell. Trial by Combat are a talented quartet who are no doubt on their way to spotlight main stream music. Jesse Grossman, lead singer and vocalist, holds the helm of the band with his strong stance; his voice pointed to the sky as if he were shouting at someone not of this world. Holding down port and aft are guitarists Aaron Duddley and Jesse Palmer who trade off tantalizing solo segments and erotic faces that show they love playing music just as much as the crowd loves watching them play it. Last but not least, and perhaps the power behind the band altogether, is Sam Keegan. He plays the drums like a powerful engine pushing the music at the speed he wants it to go. In the words of famous Joe Strummer, "A band is only as strong as their drummer." Some of the songs that highlighted their set were "Novice Orden," and signature song "Baptized in Battle."

So, in short, it is nights like these and music like this that help me return to a feeling of comfort. The loud, crunchy, comanding music which comes from these bands and this particular genre of music not only enduces the feeling of survival, but gives you the sheer will and determination to take over the world.

For more information on these bands and for upcoming shows visit their websites.

www.myspace.com/seedsofhatenb

www.myspace.com/trialbycombattheband

Save Education at the Cost of Public Safety

Students, teachers, and administrators gathered at Sacramento State University to protest the rise of fees and cuts in education. People proudly chanted and sang songs. Participators held up signs which read "Save My Education," and "They Cut You." The purpose of the rally was to bring to the public attention that fees have increased 32 percent in this semester alone. In the past seven years fees have risen a total of 182 percent.



The budget crisis is no secret. Neither is the fact that students have to pay more for education. After all, students are the ones paying the fees. It was understood what the rally was meant to accomplish; although, it did not hit home for many. In fact it was apparent many of the speakers did not realize the implications of what they suggested.



A young lady voiced her opinion and she felt it unfair that the state funds prisons but student fees are going up. Although many do not realize it but funding prisoner education actually lowers recidivism and contributes to public safety. Educating our prisoners gives them the tools they need in order to contribute to society, reduce their chances of returning to prison and in turn lower the cost of running prisons and then saving money in the states over all budget. Currently California has a recidivism rate of 70 percent! That means seven out of ten prisoners will return to prison for non violent offences.



Furthermore, it was disturbing that not once during the rally did anyone mention the cuts that California's children are facing. Sacramento State students receive a bus pass included with their tuition but children are being forced to walk to school through busy intersections because school buses have been cut. Also community colleges receive funding from the same pool of money that is used to fund elementary and high schools. This means that no instructors at community colleges are being forced to furlough.

Perhaps equally as disturbing was when people began chanting, "Invest in people, tax oil not students." If it's not one thing, it's another. Sure go ahead and tax the oil and then complain about gas prices because students can't afford to drive to school.

No one is happy about the state of our union. Citizens are loosing jobs, becoming homeless, committing more crimes and overcrowding our prisons. Children are missing out on important subjects, like art and music, because we can't afford to pay the teachers. Voters don't want a rise in their taxes, but they also don't want to see their programs affected by budget cuts. There is not an easy answer when it comes to solving this financial crisis but people should stop and think about what they are asking before they ask it. The money needs to come from somewhere and it all has to go some place. Everybody wants their piece of the pie.