FROM THE MOMENT YOU TELL ME...YES
The Tower Records at the Sherman Oaks Galleria was a fucking monkey house last night and I couldn't have been happier.
With Yes celebrating their 35th anniversary this week as one the longest rock acts writing and performing today second to perhaps The Rolling Stones or the Moody Blues (Genesis were there for a while trying their damnest to keep up - with thirty years under their belt, but Phil Collins sure put a skidding halt to that winning streak) and they wanted to party in style! Like I mentioned a couple of days ago, the new Rhino retrospective package, The Ultimate Yes has just been released (and I'm pretty disappointed that Tower charged $ 22 for the thing while both Fry's and Best Buy are currently selling it for $16 - and mostly it consists of stuff I already have on the prodigious In a Word: Yes boxset released two years ago) as well as the three hour plus DVD documentary Yesspeak.
Getting up at 3:30 in the morning to wait in line and have to chat up with likewise fans was seemingly worth it - to a certain degree. Using the remaining sicktime that I had for the remainder of my rookie year at the studio worked like a charm, but yet, the Tower Records staff said as we purchasing our stuff that everyone had to be online to get there before they closed down the door at 4 PM sharp. So yesterday, I had to rush out at work at 2 PM and take three buses to get back to my place while pausing to deposit my check in the ATM and I barely made it with ten minutes to spare. Apparently buses don't run as often as they do past 5 PM. So I secured a place in line- but nothing was happening until 7 PM when the band members finally strolled through the doors. I think Chris Squire was the late arrival - he looked as if he had been rudely awakened from a nap.
All this postering and idle warnings were totally unnecessary - I could've worked a full day yesterday, deposited my check afterwards, and still would have made it with time to spare, because it was just three hours of standing on aching feet and chain smoking Parliment lights unless someone was waxing nostalgic with me about all the Yes concerts I've been attending ever since I was fourteen years old. In the twilight hours towards the ushering of the doors being opened, I was mildly entertained by this songwriter who used to pen songs for Rod Stewart and who happens to be a acquiantance of a female friend who's husband who plays guitar for David Lee Roth (whew, what a fucking sentence). This guy broke my balls about looking me up on the internet and finding ton of shit on me- as he wants to hook me up with a artist friend of his out in San Francisco and needed credentials.
So without further ado - if you act now you can check out some of the photos of last night 's signing here: http://www.yesworld.com Click on where it says Yes at Tower Records and in the crowd shot you might be able to see me where Rick Wakeman is stationed trying to peer over some hulk wearing a burgundy shirt.
A few things I need to shout out about Yes:
Goddamn it, why does it look like guitarist Steve Howe is withering away to the sands of time to the Pharoahs? This guy is so frail looking (and not to mention three years younger than Jon Anderson, who is the oldest of the entire bunch, but yet looks young enough to race Frodo in a triathon to Moldor) that he needs to sit down in a rocking chair in order to strum away on his guitar. Someone in the crowd yelled at him to stand up and play and Steve piped back to the heckler that maybe you should try to play a acoustic guitar standing up at my age and see how it feels.
The honest truth: I'm worried about this guy. If all the members of the Yes Net groups held a death pool as of this very minute - what would the odds be in Steve's favor. It's just astounding that this is the same guy who when I saw back in '89 for the Anderson, Bruford, Wakeman, and Howe tour would be ricocheting off the top of monitor amps and shaking his long mane around during every intriciately played guitar solo - now he sits like a decrepit invalid on a tiny stool having trouble adjusting his guitar strap. But when he's ready - he still rips into it as he proved on a little acoustic number he's come up with titled "Intervention Blues" - you could almost swear that they are the three guys in the room doing those same parts. (I've been also blessed with seeing a local threesome act out here who perform entirely on acoustic guitar called The California Guitar Trio do a faithful rendition of Yes' Heart of the Sunrise) I would just hate to wake up one morning and hear on the news or read on the internet that Steve has plucked himself to the Great Beyond by NOT EATING A PROPER DIET. MAYBE EATING SOME RED MEAT MIGHT BE GOOD FOR A CHANGE! I so worry about him.
Well, going to have to wrap this up for tonight - too many of my co-workers are busting my balls about the good time I had. Which is something unheard of in these parts- but tomorrow I'll pick up with my assessment of maybe why Chris Squire was such a sour puss last night- and comments on the happy go lucky tag team of Jon and Rick.
~
Coat
The Tower Records at the Sherman Oaks Galleria was a fucking monkey house last night and I couldn't have been happier.
With Yes celebrating their 35th anniversary this week as one the longest rock acts writing and performing today second to perhaps The Rolling Stones or the Moody Blues (Genesis were there for a while trying their damnest to keep up - with thirty years under their belt, but Phil Collins sure put a skidding halt to that winning streak) and they wanted to party in style! Like I mentioned a couple of days ago, the new Rhino retrospective package, The Ultimate Yes has just been released (and I'm pretty disappointed that Tower charged $ 22 for the thing while both Fry's and Best Buy are currently selling it for $16 - and mostly it consists of stuff I already have on the prodigious In a Word: Yes boxset released two years ago) as well as the three hour plus DVD documentary Yesspeak.
Getting up at 3:30 in the morning to wait in line and have to chat up with likewise fans was seemingly worth it - to a certain degree. Using the remaining sicktime that I had for the remainder of my rookie year at the studio worked like a charm, but yet, the Tower Records staff said as we purchasing our stuff that everyone had to be online to get there before they closed down the door at 4 PM sharp. So yesterday, I had to rush out at work at 2 PM and take three buses to get back to my place while pausing to deposit my check in the ATM and I barely made it with ten minutes to spare. Apparently buses don't run as often as they do past 5 PM. So I secured a place in line- but nothing was happening until 7 PM when the band members finally strolled through the doors. I think Chris Squire was the late arrival - he looked as if he had been rudely awakened from a nap.
All this postering and idle warnings were totally unnecessary - I could've worked a full day yesterday, deposited my check afterwards, and still would have made it with time to spare, because it was just three hours of standing on aching feet and chain smoking Parliment lights unless someone was waxing nostalgic with me about all the Yes concerts I've been attending ever since I was fourteen years old. In the twilight hours towards the ushering of the doors being opened, I was mildly entertained by this songwriter who used to pen songs for Rod Stewart and who happens to be a acquiantance of a female friend who's husband who plays guitar for David Lee Roth (whew, what a fucking sentence). This guy broke my balls about looking me up on the internet and finding ton of shit on me- as he wants to hook me up with a artist friend of his out in San Francisco and needed credentials.
So without further ado - if you act now you can check out some of the photos of last night 's signing here: http://www.yesworld.com Click on where it says Yes at Tower Records and in the crowd shot you might be able to see me where Rick Wakeman is stationed trying to peer over some hulk wearing a burgundy shirt.
A few things I need to shout out about Yes:
Goddamn it, why does it look like guitarist Steve Howe is withering away to the sands of time to the Pharoahs? This guy is so frail looking (and not to mention three years younger than Jon Anderson, who is the oldest of the entire bunch, but yet looks young enough to race Frodo in a triathon to Moldor) that he needs to sit down in a rocking chair in order to strum away on his guitar. Someone in the crowd yelled at him to stand up and play and Steve piped back to the heckler that maybe you should try to play a acoustic guitar standing up at my age and see how it feels.
The honest truth: I'm worried about this guy. If all the members of the Yes Net groups held a death pool as of this very minute - what would the odds be in Steve's favor. It's just astounding that this is the same guy who when I saw back in '89 for the Anderson, Bruford, Wakeman, and Howe tour would be ricocheting off the top of monitor amps and shaking his long mane around during every intriciately played guitar solo - now he sits like a decrepit invalid on a tiny stool having trouble adjusting his guitar strap. But when he's ready - he still rips into it as he proved on a little acoustic number he's come up with titled "Intervention Blues" - you could almost swear that they are the three guys in the room doing those same parts. (I've been also blessed with seeing a local threesome act out here who perform entirely on acoustic guitar called The California Guitar Trio do a faithful rendition of Yes' Heart of the Sunrise) I would just hate to wake up one morning and hear on the news or read on the internet that Steve has plucked himself to the Great Beyond by NOT EATING A PROPER DIET. MAYBE EATING SOME RED MEAT MIGHT BE GOOD FOR A CHANGE! I so worry about him.
Well, going to have to wrap this up for tonight - too many of my co-workers are busting my balls about the good time I had. Which is something unheard of in these parts- but tomorrow I'll pick up with my assessment of maybe why Chris Squire was such a sour puss last night- and comments on the happy go lucky tag team of Jon and Rick.
~
Coat
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