ChopperHead at The Revolver Golden Gods Awards

Posted on 09. Apr, 2010 by admin.

Alright Muthafuckers! Yours truly went and did my duty as a plug whore today. I worked the Black Carpet at the VH1 Revolver Golden Gods of Metal Awards show; specifically to get Rock Stars to plug the magazine on the mini flip camera I carry around with me. I have to say that Revolver Magazine did a great job of getting the A-list of metal superstars to attend this event. I immediately made friends with Angel Orozco from the American Forces Network Radio and merged my flip camera video skills with his radio plugs. The result is a lot of AFN plugs and a few ChopperHead Magazine Plugs. Over the course of the next few days will get all of these plugs loaded onto the CHTV player, so stay tuned. Now the Awards show itself was like most awards show, very entertaining and boring in some spots. The live performances were great except when there was some technical difficulty and you had to watch the same performance over again, which lead to dead time in between takes so they could fix the problems. But hey that’s life and cluster fucks come often and free of charge in this world.

The crowd actually makes this Awards show cool. You get all these die hard Metal heads who love the music and the artists with a Jesus Freak zeal that can only make you want to say “Fuck Yeah”! It was of course great to see a lot of short skirts that barley covered the ass cheeks, and bras busting cleavage from all the sexy vagina owners on hand as well. All in all it was a great time and I look forward to seeing how this all looks edited and packaged for television May 22nd, 2010 on VH1.

Metal Rules Muthafuckers!

Timothy Stephens

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The Van Vomited Alongside The Freeway

Posted on 17. Feb, 2010 by Weldon.

I recently accompanied The Stone Foxes on a mini-tour of five shows in four days through central Cali. The night prior, we’d crashed at a guest-house in Los Osos, a beatific place on Morro Bay. Holding a cup of coffee and looking out over the water at sunrise, I found this place nearly impossible to leave. Of course only a few hours of sleep didn’t help, but the Pacific has this effect on me regardless.

The Stone Foxes’ van, which is affectionately called The White Whale, apparently agreed and wanted to stay. About a half hour into that morning’s drive to Santa Barbara for a noontime UCSB show, we’d pulled over for gas and the van decided to expel its coolant as soon as we stopped.

Yes, a burgeoning band with a broken down van is a rite of passage in rock and roll. However, with the tight schedule- a show at noon, another at 11p in Ojai, and another at 11a the next day at UC Cal Poly- we stood to possibly miss three shows in 24 hrs, completely killing any hope of breaking even on this trip. Plus the cost of repairs.

We bought a couple gallons of coolant, and guitarist Spence filled the radiator with water from a pump, checked for leaks, and found none. It had stopped. Maybe it was the water pump? If we waited for AAA, we’d surely miss the first show. If we could at least make it to UCSB, we’d have a few hours afterward to have the van checked out. We’d still be on time, so we tried again.

Flash forward to us predictably alongside the freeway next to a smoking, steaming van with its hood up. It didn’t need to be fixed, just not completely melted down before getting to Santa Barbara. We used the coolant. The van, like a rock star who had already had a gallon on whiskey, returned the fluid to the ground.

After waiting for it to cool for a few minutes in the mild ocean breeze, we managed some more miles. Used the second gallon of coolant and made it a bit farther before we had to pull over yet again. We could smell rubber burning. If we continued, we may melt belts or gaskets.

Guitarist/bassist Aaron found half of a snickers bar in the van (yes, you’d be surprised what turns up in there) and set it on the over-heated hood where it quickly melted into its scatological lookalike. I took that as confidence that regardless of our situation, we wouldn’t miss lunch.

I called the University and warned that even though we were merely minutes away, we were out of coolant and out of time and may not make it.

But then we found an old bottle of water in the back, which when added to the radiator, hotter than it had ever been, rocketed steam several feet above the line of the roof. Old faithful. Fuck off. But, it turned out to cool the engine just enough to get us to the show, 15 minutes late, but in one piece.

Now, the gear-heads out there may cringe at the way we were pushing this van. But these are musicians. They’d weep if they saw how you treated that acoustic guitar under the pile of clothes in your closet, the one with only five rusted strings and a broken tuning key.

In Storke Plaza at UCSB, during a new song tentatively titled “Patience,” Aaron sang “White Whale, I want to kick you in the face!” A few weeks ago that line had been “Jay Leno, I want to kick you in the face!” But that’s another story. Piss off The Stone Foxes and next time it’ll be you.

Aaron then proceeded to climb a tree during “Under the Gun,” so I suppose if he had fallen, we know whom he would name-check next show.

We then took the van to a shop, rented a Suburban for the next couple shows, and things seemed somewhat normal.

Aaron name-checked a broken down bathroom in the venue at the Ojai show, threatening to kick it in its face, as well. Daniel Ash, of Bauhaus and Love and Rockets fame, was our sound guy and DJ’d after our set. An honor.

At Cal Poly Aaron was sealed in under the stage by a stagehand who hadn’t seen him crawl through the skirt during a song. The guy had seen the curtain a little off and literally pinned it back together. I wonder if that, too, is considered a rite of passage.

By the way, that candy bar on the hood- it was still there after the tour, baked to a fine burnt crust.

I wonder what the mechanics had thought of that.

Rob Weldon(right)

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New Virgins on the Old Scene

Posted on 15. Feb, 2010 by Melanie.

“It’s all the same, only the names will change, everyday it seems we’re wasting away…”  -Bon Jovi  “Wanted Dead or Alive.”

Monday nights at midnight on the Sunset Strip… Steel Panther:  http://www.myspace.com/steelpantherkicksass Decadence of a decade?  I started watching this band when they were called Metal Shop at the Viper Room.  The small club was bursting at the seams trying to contain the rapidly growing fans so the band moved to The Roxy under the new name of Metal Skool.  Many crazy fun nights of debauchery live on in my memory from 2004.  My boyfriend at the time, who lived in Huntington Beach, and I wouldn’t miss a single week, just like all the other familiar faces.  He had a killer chopper and we’d ride to Sunset Blvd. from my place in Santa Monica.  Or there were many nights where he’d rent a party bus http://www.partylounge.net with all his friends coming up from Huntington Beach and the excitement was too much to handle!  Music on board could be Metal Skool’s album “Hole Patrol” with everyone singing along.  It was so much fun to dress like a rocker slut while having a bodyguard.  My boyfriend was such a fan it was as if he wanted to be a groupie for the band!  He got his pilot license and would even fly to Vegas to see them.  There’s no way I would get in a plane with him the way he was partying with his friends.  Flying high!  Wild and raucous nights ensued, bringing the onslaught of the relationship’s demise, ending in a physical altercation, his arrest and a restraining order.  That’s Hollywood!  Once again, the growth moved Metal Skool to the Key Club. They hold the undisputed record of “selling out” every Monday night at midnight.  The experience was a quasi-cult following lovingly nicknamed “church.”  The congregation was like a newfangled religion with fanatical, dedicated worshipers.  Celebrities would come to see them!  An extensive list of big names got on stage with them.  One could expect “nothing but a good time” –Poison, when attending the congregation.  I guess you could say I’ve had my fill and haven’t been on the scene in a while.   I ventured out this past Monday night because their new venue is at the House of Blues, which I love.  I haven’t seen the band since their name change and wanted to check in.  Watching the crowd for the 3 songs that I stayed to watch, they were older and loving it, singing along and laughing, but in a tourist kind of way.  Not the same faces of the die-hard fan base I knew a few years ago although I didn’t stay long enough to find out.  When the curtain fell, Steel Panther opened with vivacious energy playing “Mr. Brownstone” –GNR .  The wardrobe has improved and the guys looked genuinely excited and I can’t blame them.  Their success has grown incredibly.  They have weekly gigs in Vegas and are now even playing in Europe?!  Word on the street is that these guys are making bank!  The next song was “Cherry Pie” –Warrant (yawn) and then (gasp) an “original” song called “Fuck All Night, Party All Day” to the tune of “Living on a Prayer” –Bon Jovi , while using the title structure of “Up All Night, Sleep All Day.” –Slaughter.  When the song was over they started the routine search for chics to come on stage to flash their tits and make out.  Just “new virgin(s) on the old scene” –Aerosmith “Ragdoll.”

I asked my friend Tim, founder of http://www.chopperheadmagazine.com if he would mind missing out on that high school teenage type humor.  The club was cold.  The back doors were open and I think the air conditioner was on!  I’d rather complain that I was overheating to the point of passing out because that’s what rock n roll is about.  Feeling the energy of the crowd as one, it’s a release to sweat it out!  I was actually freezing so I didn’t take off my leather jacket and rock out with my tits out like I wanted to.  I chose to hang out upstairs in the ever so mystical and magical Foundation Room and enjoy the scene up there.  I absolutely love the décor of the Foundation Room.  The intricate detail of all the unique and authentic artwork is overwhelming.  The DJ was great; I was happy to be enjoying the expansive view of the City of (fallen) Angels listening to 80’s rock.  I started jamming out to Bullet Boys, “Smooth Up in Ya.”  I haven’t heard that song in a while and it stayed in my mind for days.  It brought back Jersey memories of 1988.  Marq Torien of Bullet Boys, noticed I put the song on my myspace profile and wrote me telling me he’d put me on the guest list for the Whisky A Go Go on March 20.  Thanks Marq!  See you there!  I just love music!  I was an MTV addict since day one in 1981 at 6 years old.  One of my favorite bands and albums was and still is Van Halen’s “1984” album at 9 years old.   What is happening with the music of today that the best thing going on is reliving the past?   No matter, it’s all fun!  ROCK ON!!

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“Once a cheater…” by Leah G.

Posted on 09. Feb, 2010 by Leah G.

Today I experienced something I had never experienced. I had always heard about it, even read about it in books but never experienced it, really.  I got dumped today for another woman.  Plain as day, no mistake, he wanted her, not me.  Since I’m sitting here writing about it I’m not gonna say it didn’t affect me, because it sure as hell did, but in an odd, almost serene and calming way.  It was as if I had accepted the fucked up situation and all that came along with it with a rather womanly and poised demeanor.  And I was proud of myself.  I really was.  Okay, here it was: so I go over to my boyfriends.  “She” is there, with some other friends and the roommate hanging out.  I alienate myself in his room until I can no longer stand it.  I finally tell him to bring her in.  I meet her, start to like her in spite of myself, and begin feeling a sort of relief as if she had relieved me of some household duty I had been putting off.  I told him I was happy for him (the whole while in my head I’m thinking “what are you saying!!”).  But those were the words coming out of my mouth, and (I hope) out of my heart.  Gracefully, I left though I had showed up prepared to stay overnight.  And since I’ve been home I have been zombied out on the computer, with that tugging, nagging feeling that bothers me….as if I have unfinished business.  But the mature woman in me knows that I feel restless because of my lack of aggression, my lack of anger, my lack of passion and tears.  Sadly, it is what is expected of me.  Today however…today….i think I can say  that it WAS what WAS expected of me.  No more.  Besides, the guy wasn’t that great anyway.  Why waste my time and breath fighting over him or any man for that matter? And as he low key thanked me for my way of handling it ten times in a row, and looked amazed when I just smiled when he asked if I was gonna kill him, I felt…..whats the word?…..mature….proud….almost fucking holy for gods sake.  By me not freaking out, we all got a piece of the cake and ate it too.  We all got to make the bed and lie in it (im sure he would have enjoyed that ).  He got the get outta jail free card….i got rid of a cheating loser….and the girl got, well, she got a guy she thinks is wonderful for the time being, at least.  So we all win.  Because of me.  Because I handled the situation like a woman.  Because I accepted that I had put a year into that relationship for this small yet valuable lesson and nothing else more.  And now I can move onto the next relationship. Or the next lesson.  Or both.

My question to you this issue:  You’ve heard “once a cheater always a cheater.”  Do you believe that to be true and why?

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How Gonzo fueled the creation of Outlaw Kulture: A Strange and Terrible Saga

Posted on 07. Feb, 2010 by Coyote.

Hunter S. Thompson’s Hells Angels: A Strange and Terrible Saga is an American classic.  It, at the same time, launched the aggressive, experience based form of journalism that would come to be known as Gonzo, and helped further fuel America’s obsession with the last of the western outlaw’s…Bike gang’s.   During the writing of Thompson’s novel, the American Government was doing their own investigation into our two-wheeled hoards that roamed California in a lust for freedom.  Tales of horror at the the sight of the gangs and their frequent rides had small resort town fathers locking up daughter’s and boarding up windows.  The liquor store better have enough beer or you could bet your ass it was gonna get rolled under.  The gangs number’s were almost always highly overestimated as well as the effect of their passing through…We as Outlaws, became in a sense, caricatures of ourselves.

Thompson describes us…”like Genghis Khan on an iron horse, a monster steed with a fiery anus, flat out through the eye of a beer can and up your daughter’s leg with no quarter asked and none given; show the squares some class, give em a whiff of some kicks they’ll never know.”

This novel immortalized the early bikers and they in turn became the mold for what today has become our sub-culture and its industries.  The symbols which we use to define us as Outlaws, living and operating under our own fucking rules, just trying to get one last sip of the nectar of freedom before its been sucked dry.

This book is a must read for any body who is interested in Outlaw Kulture, filled with embellished stories of Outlaw glory and the timeless prose of one of our nation’s best writers.  I give it an enthusiastic Fuck Yeah!!!!  buy it on Amazon for $10 and give it to your kid.

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Paper Zoo: A Rock and Roll Carnival on Acid

Posted on 06. Feb, 2010 by Weldon.

“Join us, we are the Paper Zoo,” sang the band in their triumphant final song.

The Viper Room was packed on a Thursday January night when it seemed most of the rest of the Strip was empty.

And what I heard was a rock carnival on acid, performed by anachronistic teenagers seemingly delivered here straight from the 70’s. They were, in fact, Paper Zoo.

Imagine The Who, Black Sabbath, and Pink Floyd writing the follow up to St. Pepper and you’ll begin to understand what I mean. And these were kids that normally wouldn’t be allowed in the club, much less throwing down like the greats.

Talking to the guys outside after the show, I found them eager without being delusional, and seasoned without being jaded (and yes, I’ve met my share of jaded teenagers).

Singer and lead guitarist Allister is the odd guy in the band because he’s, well, odd. Most bands have one, the recluse, the guy who needn’t take drugs but he’ll be accused of it anyway. No disrespect intended; he was cordial, even if his mind was elsewhere.

Speaking with bass player and sometimes vocalist, William, I looked down and noticed a couple of their cases were marked “Bigelf,” another bad-ass band throwing down heavy 70s riffage.

“Yeah,” said William. “Damon from Bigelf hooked us up with some of their gear. He’s been awesome!”

I saw Bigelf last year at SXSW and they were LOUD. Using their equipment must be something else, as well as filling some pretty um, big shoes.

But honestly, the awe may be as much from the other side, as well. During Paper Zoo’s set, Damon bounced around the club like a proud papa, taking photos of the band from all different angles, including close-ups of Allister’s fingerwork. He seemed a proud Big-bro. Or, they were Little-elf. Pun intended.

But not totally. Paper Zoo are no Bigelf wannabes. They mix as many Beatles circus tricks in as guitar hero riffs. Their debut EP begins with “Paper Zoo,” which they used to close the show. Another stand out track is “Laughing Legba,” which gives keyboardist Martin a bit of prominence.

Like any good EP, it’s too short. Five songs. Their live set consisted of those, plus two, which means they’re up to seven. Drummer Monte told me they plan to demo forty songs, as they break from playing shows. A full-length album will thusly be forthcoming.

I look forward to playing it loud.

written by Rob Weldon(photo right)

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