Commentary

As I face my 31st birthday this coming Saturday, I can’t help but reflect back on the last three decades. The events, the people, and the music that helped shaped my life. I also dyed my hair and got new shoes. Airwalks with little skulls on them. I’m 31 and I have skulls on my shoes. Does that make me hip or sad? With the above factors all weighing heavily it was no surprise that my instant answer was, “Yes” when asked if I was going to go see some bands at the local bar that is the hub for the metal scene around here, The Pine Street. Yes kids, I live in a place where there is still an active heavy metal scene.

It’s not the same thriving scene that was booming in the late eighties and early nineties the first time I dyed my hair and got shoes with skulls on them. Back then metal clubs still thrived in San Francisco, but all those places closed years ago (The Omni, The One Step, etc.). But I digress. About once or twice a year I venture out to see the old school bands play at the Pine Street in good old Livermore. This past Saturday was one of those rare occasions. Three bands were playing; all whose members include people I’ve known since I was 12 and 13 years old, a million years ago.

As I walked in, the bar was full of the usual suspects. Just not quite as many as I’d hoped. You see, it’s been so many years since I was a part of the scene that people who were infants when I started headbanging were now hanging out with the band. Kids. Just like I was once. The familiar faces were fewer and far between, and the unfamiliar were more than I’d expected. In all honesty, I began to long for the warmth of my couch and TV. But then the music began. The first band, From the Fog is about as old school serious metal as it gets. As they began to play, I stood in the back of the bar leaning against a railing (being up front is something I stopped doing years ago).

As I watched from my spot in the back, I could see the wave of long and short hair begin to bang. I watched fists rise up in the hair, and a sea of metal heads get lost in the groove. I felt an excitement in the pit of my stomach, and in an instant I felt 15 again. The warmth, the friendship, the shared love of music, all came back to me, and it was good. I think the art of metal is lost on many people, but it is art. It’s passion and dedication and it’s alive and well in Livermore, CA.

Also playing Saturday night was Starch, a Bay Area favorite from long ago that “reunited” just for this show. Once one of the hardest working bands in the East Bay metal scene, some of Starch’s former members hooked up for this rare performance (although, certain founding members were not present, causing the term “reunited” to be used quite loosely).

And one of the most popular metal bands on the local scene today, Pop Murder, hit the stage last. I suggest, metal fan or nor, you visit their MySpace page and give them a listen. These guys take the most famous pop songs from the eighties (and some nineties) and rearrange them into insane metal versions. It is fun and hilarious. If you’ve ever wondered what the New Kids would have sounded like if they had been a speed metal band, wonder no more.

In full disclosure I have to say I did not make it through the night. Though, for a moment the music made me feel 15, the reality of my 30 going on 31 mother of two energy level came crashing down earlier than I’d care to admit. But I guess that’s the whole point of music in the first place, to make you feel young again, even if it’s just for a moment. Music helps remind you where you’ve been, where you are, and where you’re going. So after my big night out, it was a strange twist of fate that I heard Bob Seger’s “Rock ‘n Roll Never Forgets.” on my way home: “If you need a fix/Come back baby/Rock and roll never forgets/Oh the bands still playing it loud and lean/Listen to the guitar player making it scream.”

Yeah, I guess rock and roll doesn’t forget. God knows, I haven’t.

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