Heart & Joan Jett: Some bad-ass rockers

Ann Wilson, lead singer and songwriter for Heart, getting into the music.

Wow! Make that double wow!

Got a chance to see two Rock and Roll Hall of Fame acts at one concert and they were g-r-r-r-eat!

Imagine Joan Jett & the Blackhearts opening for Heart, led by sisters Ann and Nancy Wilson.

Tuesday night was four hours of rock music, featuring bad-ass frontwomen and talented band members happy to take a back seat to the ladies, who’ve been performing since the ’70s.

The venue: Sunlight Supply Ampitheatre in Ridgefield, Washington, about a 30-minute drive north of Portland under normal circumstances. (More on that later.) It’s an outdoor venue that seats 18,000 and a place that draws some pretty fine artists. I’ve seen Steely Dan and Michael McDonald, the Dixie Chicks and Lady Antebellum at previous shows.

Joan Jett came on 8 pm sharp and performed for an hour. At 60, she appeared and sounded just as you would expect: dressed in black from head to toe, layered jet-black hair, wailing on a wine-colored Gibson guitar, and belting out her vocals with a growl.

She had a lot of the crowd on their feet as she ripped through “Cherry Bomb,” “Bad Reputation,” “I Hate Myself For Loving You,” and the anthem “I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll.”

She did covers of “Crimson and Clover” and “Everyday People” and genuinely seemed to be having fun.

Joan and her band were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2015 — and for good reason. A founding member of the all-teenage girl band The Runaways, she is often called the Queen of Rock ‘n’ Roll and the Godmother of Punk.

She set the mood beautifully for Heart, who followed up with a 90-minute set.

The Wilson sisters are flat-out amazing. The two are military brats whose family settled in the Seattle suburb of Bellevue, so Tuesday’s concert was a Pacific Northwest homecoming on their national tour.

Ann, who just turned 69, is the heart and soul of the band (pun intended) as lead vocalist and songwriter. Nancy, at 65, is a virtuoso on guitar and lends a nice change of pace when she’s the featured singer.

While the Blackhearts pounded away at nothing but hard rock, Heart displayed more versatility. Sure, they ran through a pile of hits: “Magic Man,” “Even It Up,” “What About Love” and “Little Queen.”

But they also did a cool version of Marvin Gaye’s “I Heard Through The Grapevine” that segued into “Straight On.” They harmonized beautifully on Simon & Garfunkel’s “The Boxer” and followed up with “These Dreams” and “Dog and Butterfly.”

They ended their set with “Crazy On You” then came back with a three-song encore: Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven,” the ballad “Alone” and the kick-ass “Barracuda.”

Heart was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2013, nearly 40 years after they hit it big with the 1975 album “Dreamboat Annie.”

I’d been wanting to see Heart for a long time. What a bonus to catch Joan Jett at the same time.

***

If you’re thinking of attending a concert at Sunlight Supply Amphitheatre, be forewarned. Although the parking lot has space for 7,000 vehicles, they strongly encourage using the park-and-ride lot in Vancouver and a shuttle bus to and from the venue.

I did just that, but rush hour traffic meant a one-hour drive to the parking lot shuttle and leisurely arrival that was too late to catch the warmup act at 7 pm. No biggie. I was there for the headliners.

But…after the concert ended at 11, it took nearly an hour and a half to get home. Had to wait in line with throngs of tired, cranky people to catch one of the shuttles and get back to the park-and-ride lot just before midnight. I got home about 12:30 am. Hardly ideal.

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Please print! And don’t recycle.

By Melissa Jones

It was a big decision and a giant purchase for my friend Wendy and me: “Pit” tickets near the stage to see The Rolling Stones at Century Link Field in Seattle.

It’s the most money I’ve ever spent on a concert, dwarfing the $175 I spent for Prince and his all-girl band at the Roseland.

Wendy and I would drive from Portland to Seattle the day of the show, staying at the cheapest hotel we could find. The morning after the show, Wendy would get me to Sea-Tac at 4 a.m. for the earliest flight back to Portland, in time to make a 9 a.m. Portland flight with my son for a long-planned vacation that I couldn’t reschedule.

The planning was nerve-wracking.

So when Wendy told me she was having our tickets mailed to her house, I was confused.

Why would anyone get physical tickets mailed when she could download a ticket to her phone? It’s one less thing to carry. One less thing to remember. No shipping costs.

I’m an avid user of the “wallet” on my phone that allows me to save tickets and quickly access them in the airport security line or in the Moda Center bag check.

But this summer – before Janet Jackson in Las Vegas –  I started having doubts.

These doubts began during this summer’s Women’s World Cup soccer matches. No, I didn’t go see them in France.

But 20 years ago, I was present for the momentous game at the Pasadena Rose Bowl when the U.S. women beat China’s team.  It was another big event that took a lot of planning to attend. I drove to LA from Phoenix to go with my former UCLA roommate, Anita. I stayed at her apartment, and she drove us to the stadium; I remember hearing “La Vida Loca” in her truck on the way.

During this year’s matches in France, everyone harkened back on the team of 1999. The players were back on TV and sportscasters reminisced about Brandi Chastain ripping off her shirt at the end and triumphantly falling to her knees in her sports bra. (I was there!)

My friend Anita and I played lacrosse together at UCLA and we traded texts during this year’s soccer matches; she asked me where we sat at the Rose Bowl.

While I remember hearing Ricky Martin on the radio and seeing J. Lo perform the halftime show, I don’t remember where we sat. And I don’t have any photos. In 1999, if you wanted a picture of something, you had to bring a camera, and I guess I didn’t.

I told Anita that I’d look through my ticket stubs, kept in a box in my basement with my yearbooks, my Olivia Newton-John program (first concert!) and my Go-Go’s bandana (first concert without my mom!)

Going through the envelope is like looking at a lifelong yearbook of live music. Ben Harper at Edgefield. Susana Baca at the Aladdin. Manu Chao at the Crystal Ballroom, where I talked to other women who were there by themselves.

There are sporting events too, like UCLA basketball in the Final Four in Indianapolis, when I happened to be living there. Cubs spring training in Phoenix just before I got married. Lots of Blazers and Timbers. I’m not sure why I saved my ticket to “Slumdog Millionaire.”

The earliest concert stubs bring back the most memories. Oingo Boingo at the Arizona State Fair with my high school friend Donna. The glittery text on the ticket for The Thompson Twins at Mesa Amphitheatre. Big Audio Dynamite when I was a student in London, drinking hard cider at age 19 and stage diving after hugging Mick Jones.

The most confusing ticket stubs are of things I don’t remember.

I saw Marjane Satrapi at the Schnitz? I have no recollection of that.

Maya Angelou? Wow. I saw her?

Jane Goodall at Arizona State? I’ve never had a great memory, but how does an anthropology major forget seeing Jane Goodall?

I couldn’t find a ticket stub of the World Cup game from 1999. It was probably lost somewhere in the many states and many moves I’ve made since then.

There are other shows I remember that have no record in my phone, inbox or basement, like Def Leppard in Phoenix at Compton Terrace, a venue long gone. And U2’s Unforgettable Fire tour at Compton Terrace. Did I also see Lollapalooza there?

I don’t remember.

But I will remember when, where and how much I paid to see The Rolling Stones in Seattle. Cuz I have the ticket stub.

Melissa Jones is a former staff writer for The Oregonian who was recruited by George Rede! She’s an Arizona native who now lives in NE Portland with her husband and son. She teaches journalism at Clackamas Community College, and her next show is Cher at the Moda Center. 

Editor’s note: Former staff writer at The Oregonian? Lives in NE Portland? Teaches college journalism? That could be me. Where Melissa and I diverge is Cher. But I’ve got my ticket to see Heart on September 3rd!

Spacey Kacey in Portland

On Monday night, I was among the lucky fans who filled the Schnitz to see the remarkable Kacey Musgraves.

When tickets for Kacey Musgraves’ Portland show went on sale last fall, I wasted no time getting mine. I’d missed her on a couple of previous visits to the city, and I didn’t want it to happen a third time.

Well, talk about great timing. Monday night’s sold-out show at the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall brought Kacey to town riding high on her Grammy Award-winning laurels of the previous weekend: Album of the Year, Best Country Album, Best Country Song, Best Country Solo Performance.

During a 90-minute set, she drew heavily from “Golden Hour,” her third and most accomplished album yet. She was great, almost effortlessly so.

I’ve been a fan of Kacey since she burst onto the scene in 2013 with “Same Trailer Different Park,” the debut album that earned her Best Country Album along with Best Country Song (Merry Go ‘Round) at the 2014 Grammys. It was a track from that same album, “Follow Your Arrow,” that I especially liked — a song that’s as un-country as you can imagine, with references to marijuana and a girl-on-girl kiss.

Kacey hails from a small town in Texas, and her voice is unmistakably country. Yet she continues to evolve as a songwriter with a sound that ranges from classic country to pop to ethereal to disco — yes, disco.

On Monday, I found myself appreciating several songs with lush melodies built on layers of instrumentation.

During mid-show introductions of her excellent band members, there were the usual ones on guitar, drums and bass, but also on banjo, pedal steel guitar, cello and keyboards.

Kacey says of her music: “Undeniably, I’m a country singer; I’m a country songwriter. But I feel like I make country music for people who like country music and for people who don’t.”

If you’ve never heard Kacey Musgraves, give a listen to the videos below, recorded live in Los Angeles, London and New York. All are from the new album. “Wonder Woman” is mid-tempo. “Golden Hour” is mellow. “High Horse” is a throwback to the days of disco. It’s the song she saved for last Monday night, the one that got everyone out of their seats.



From my seat in the upper balcony, I could hold my thumb and forefinger an inch apart and squint toward the stage, where I could see Kacey: a distant, slender figure in a shimmery outfit, with long dark hair and a relaxed stage presence that invited everyone to enjoy a golden hour and a half of wonderful music.

There she is. A tiny figure as seen from Section 1, Row V, Seat 1.

She calls herself @spaceykacey on Instagram, but she came across as pretty down-to-earth to me, relaxed and relatable.

At just 30 years old (yikes, one year younger than our youngest child), Kacey Musgraves has already collected six Grammys and won a worldwide following. I don’t know what she’ll do to top “Golden Hour,” but I’m pretty sure she’ll find a way.

A date with my daughter

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With my wonderful daughter Simone.

Not to be all Grinchy about it, but I prefer to take holiday music in small doses — and the closer to Christmas Day the better.

But I made an exception this year, and for good reason. My daughter and I went out a week ago today to see LeAnn Rimes in concert at a casino north of Portland. I’ve always liked LeAnn from the first time I heard her as a teenager sounding like a young Patsy Cline.

I knew she was scheduled to perform at the Ilani Resort casino in Ridgefield, Washington. But I also knew Lori wouldn’t go with me on a Sunday night (she’s gotta get up really early to teach a Monday group fitness class). And, truth be told, I had my own hesitation because LeAnn was going to perform a set of Christmas-themed songs.

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Ilani Resort, located off Interstate 5, is owned by the Cowlitz Tribe of SW Washington in partnership with the Mohegan Tribe of Connecticut.

But when Simone — out of the blue and much to my delight — asked if I wanted to go to the concert, I jumped at the opportunity. First and foremost, spending time with my grown-up girl is always a delight. Secondly, I’d never been to the casino in the nearly two years since it opened 25 miles north of Portland. And, thirdly, I’d get my chance to see a favorite artist in concert, even if it wasn’t exactly how I’d imagined it.

Turns out I hit the jackpot on all three counts.

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Dad and daughter at home, with our pink pencil Christmas tree.

***

The evening began with a scrumptious dinner at Longhouse, one of 10 restaurants on site at the casino. Ilani made a decision to break from the norm by not offering the all-you-can-eat buffet that is standard at other casinos. As a result, you can pick from several restaurants ranging from budget to fancy, offering steaks, seafood, Asian, Italian or Northwest cuisine, all situated on the perimeter of the gambling floor.

We chose Longhouse, a sleek place that provided us with two seats at the counter where we could watch the chef fill steaming bowls and tantalizing dishes of Japanese food. We opted for hoisin wings, shrimp shumai, a rainbow sushi roll, and a sunomono salad. All of it was so good.

The concert was fun. We joined hundreds of others in a huge ballroom where chairs were arranged in rows just as if you were attending a conference. No risers, no V.I.P. section, no balcony. Just rows from front to back, filled with people who looked like they’d turned out for an AARP gathering. Not kidding, but the median age appeared to be 70.

Guess I shouldn’t have been surprised, given that casinos draw an older crowd. And with this being a Sunday night, anyone who had to get up early for work the next day would have had to take that into account.

We were about 20 rows from the stage with a good view of LeAnn, trim and dressed in white, and her three-piece band. They rocked it for more than an hour, mostly performing holiday songs as advertised. Imagine electrified versions of  “Rocking Around the Christmas Tree”  and “Angels We Have Heard on High” among others. But she also delivered a few of her hits, too, transitioning from “Blue Christmas” to “Blue,” the title track of her debut album, while the stage lights were cleverly turned to blue.

She also worked in “Can’t Fight The Moonlight” and “How Do I Live” and “One Way Ticket.” If I had my way, she would have done a couple of Patsy Cline covers, too — “Crazy” and “I Fall To Pieces.”

Now 36, LeAnn still has the same powerful voice that caught my ear in the late ’90s and a comfortable stage presence that reflects years of performing since she was a child. When she invited the crowd to join her in singing a verse or two of one song, I was happy to see Simone jump right in. One of my fond memories as a father is seeing her perform with choral groups in middle school, high school and college, as well as with a couple of mixed-age community groups based in the Portland area.

***

After the concert,  we headed to the slot machines. A surreal experience, for sure, with gaudy artificial lights, rows upon rows of machines, and lots of wishful thinkers chasing their dreams of a big payout.

I took out four one-dollar bills and we lost. I took out two five-dollar bills and we lost.  Never seen $14 vanish that quickly — well, not all of it.

Simone cashed in her winnings — 45 cents — and we called it a night. I pocketed my take — two nickels — and as we drove back home to Portland, I was a happy man. Had a great meal, got a chance to gamble, saw a talented singer and, best of all, spent time with my daughter.

Holiday music never sounded so good.

 

 

 

 

James Taylor in Portland

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James Taylor delighted fans by playing more than two dozen songs during a two-hour show in Portland on June 5.

For my generation, there is perhaps no singer-songwriter with a more recognizable voice and style of guitar playing than James Taylor.

From the time he released his self-titled debut album in 1968 to the present, Taylor has cranked out an amazing body of work, including 17 studio albums, 6 compilation albums and 5 live albums. In the early ’70s, his music was like a soundtrack to my life with four stellar albums released during my college years alone.

JT turned 70 earlier this year and he’s still touring. Lucky for me.

I was among the thousands who filled the Moda Center Tuesday night for a two-hour show by Taylor and his All-Star Band. Believe me, it was great. His voice still sounds smooth after all these years, and he hasn’t lost a thing in producing beautiful melodies from his acoustic guitar.

With a songbook full of hits spanning six decades, Taylor had no shortage of material — and he chose wisely.

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Sprinkled among his greatest hits, James Taylor provided little surprises, like his version of  Wilson Pickett’s “In The Midnight Hour.”

He opened the concert with “Carolina On My Mind” (one of my favorites) and “Country Road” and then weaved all over, selecting lesser-known songs of his own about a dog and a pig (“Sunny Skies” and “Mona”) and familiar covers of songs made popular in the ’50s and ’60s (“(I’m A) Road Runner,” “Up On The Roof,” “How Sweet It Is,” “Handy Man”).

The set list, consisting of about 26 songs, included ballads like “Don’t Let Me Lonely Tonight” and a version of the bluesy “Nothing Like a Hundred Miles,” a collaboration by Ray Charles and B.B. King.

Taylor closed his first set with the upbeat “Mexico,” then spent the entire 20-minute intermission just off the stage, signing autographs and posing for selfies with fans. I got the feeling that he really does appreciate his fans, and that he’s probably a pretty chill dude when he’s not on the road.

JT began the second set with “Something In The Way She Moves” (such a lovely song) and went on to perform his biggest hits. “Sweet Baby James” (written for his brother’s newborn son) and “Fire and Rain” came back to back. “Shower The People” (another of my favorites) blew me away, with the fabulous background vocalist Arnold McCuller stepping up to own the last stanza (“Shower the people you love with love, show them the way that you feel.”).

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James Taylor and His All-Star Band perform “Shower The People.”

His three-song encore was amazing: “Shed A Little Light” (with its inspiring reference to Martin Luther King), a cover of Wilson Pickett’s “In The Midnight Hour” and, what else, Carole King’s “You’ve Got A Friend.”

***

A handful of odds ‘n’ ends:

— This was the second time I’d seen James Taylor, but it sure seemed like the first because I have no recollection of the earlier one.

In the days leading up to this concert, Lori insisted that we’d seen Taylor way back in the days before we became parents. We’d seen him at the Oregon State Fairgrounds when we lived in Salem, she said,  adding that we even went with our longtime friends, Tom and Elsa Guiney. I couldn’t believe I wouldn’t remember seeing JT live, but last weekend Tom confirmed that it was true. So, yeah, I was wrong — and I still can’t explain the memory lapse.

— Tuesday’s concert originally was going to feature Bonnie Raitt, too, but she canceled plans to tour with Taylor because of an unspecified health issue. Early into the first set, Taylor asked the audience to stand for a “get well” photo that he promised would be texted to her. Would have loved to see Bonnie again.

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A view looking out toward the Moda Center crowd, with a photo (at left) of James Taylor with Bonnie Raitt.

— En route to the concert, I was struck by the sight of so many older people on the city sidewalks — graying, bald and many moving slowly — all headed in the same direction.  Looked like they were headed to an AARP convention. That’s when I realized I was looking at my generational peers and fellow JT fans. Yikes.

— Considering his catalog of material, it would have been easy for Taylor to just come out and play his hits with no variation from the original arrangements. But he kept things fresh and interesting by fully involving his 7-piece band — including saxophone, trumpet and congas — and 3 backup singers. I would think doing that is essential if you’re going to deliver night after night, year after year, in city after city. The current tour began May 8 in Florida and continues tonight in Seattle.

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A colorful background for the song “Mexico.”

— Like so many shows these days, this one featured multimedia images from beginning to end, with an array of video clips, photos, changing colors, snippets of lyrics and more complementing the music. I found it distracting at times, but I did appreciate JT’s recorded voice at the start of the show proclaiming, “I don’t animate a character. I don’t present a version of myself. I present myself.”

That he did.

2017: A year of transitions

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In a year of transitions, Lori and George celebrated their 42nd wedding anniversary in September.

This year has felt like no other.

Seeing the White House change hands from the most inspiring president of my lifetime to the least qualified and least compassionate was bad enough. Watching that train wreck of a human being proceed to drive even deeper wedges into an already splintered populace — well, that was even worse.

But I’m not here to dwell on politics.

No, not even Trump can take the luster off a year that produced plenty of memorable moments for the extended Rede family.

Yes, there was sadness with the passing of my dad, Catarino Allala Rede, just six days after he turned 91 in March.

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The scene at the funeral home in Silver City, New Mexico.

But even then, there was a silver lining to his passing. I got to do a mini-road trip with daughter Simone to and from the Phoenix airport to Dad’s home in southwestern New Mexico. There, we were reunited with my stepmother, my two sisters, a niece, a nephew, and assorted cousins that I hadn’t seen for several years.

It’s funny how life’s milestones — births, weddings and deaths — are those that bring families together from near and far. But when your siblings and other relatives are spread out all along the West Coast — from Alaska to Southern California — that’s the way it is.

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With my sisters Cathy (from Dillingham, Alaska) and Rosemary (from Oceanside, California).

Aside from Dad’s death, this year of transitions was dominated by our youngest son’s graduation from college, followed just days later by his move to Middle America.

In May, Jordan graduated with a degree in biology from St. Martin’s College, a small Benedictine school outside Olympia, Washington, where he had commuted for four years from his home in Spanaway, near Tacoma. It was a remarkable accomplishment for someone who began college just months after completing a four-year enlistment in the U.S. Army, including a one-year posting in Afghanistan, and who became a father during his junior year.

 

We had barely had time to celebrate before Lori and I returned to Spanaway to help Jordan and Jamie pack up their house for a 2,000-mile move to the University of Missouri. There in Columbia, Jordan would do science research in a fellowship program designed to help students prepare for the rigors of graduate school.

Father and son embarked on a four-day road trip, with me driving a 20-foot U-Haul truck and Jordan driving the family’s Honda Fit, packed to the gills and including their two dogs and one cat. I had envisioned the trip as an upbeat adventure, but it quickly took a dark turn when the U-Haul truck got a flat tire on the first day and again on the second day in remote areas of Idaho and Montana.

We made it on schedule, but only after pounding through really long third and fourth days where sightseeing took a back seat to the urgency of sticking to our schedule. We arrived late on a Friday, unloaded the truck’s contents on Saturday, and I flew home early Sunday.

 

How I wish Dad had lived to see his youngest grandchild graduate from college and become a father, as well.

As for the rest of 2017, well, it’s no wonder it feels like these 12 months flew by. Lots of memories and two end-of-year milestones.

Travel: We stuck close to home with three trips to our quiet cabin on Orcas Island. We always look forward to the week-long respite from urban life. The trips entails a 250-mile drive to Anacortes, where we board the ferry for a one-hour sailing to the island, and then an additional 45-minute drive to our place above Eagle Lake.

Pictures are worth a thousand words.

 

In early December, Lori and I returned to Missouri for a quick pre-Christmas visit. It was a joy to spend time with our sweet granddaughter, Emalyn, and her loving parents.

Books: Literature is a passport of its own, with talented authors opening doors to unfamiliar places, people and experiences. Among those I enjoyed this year were: “Among the Living and the Dead,” a memoir by my Latvian-American friend and former colleague, Inara Verzemnieks; “The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet’s Nest,” the last in the trilogy of Swedish crime thrillers churned out by the late Stieg Larsson; “Hillbilly Elegy,” a window into the Appalachian hillbilly culture written by one who escaped, J.D. Vance;  “Lab Girl,” a peek into the world of Hope Jahren, a pioneering research scientist; and “Evicted,” the Pulitzer Prize-winning examination of American poverty through the  racist practice of eviction. (Racist? Read the book and you’ll see what I mean.)

 

Music: I like to think I have broad tastes, though family members would disagree.  But, what the heck. I think I did pretty well catching a handful of concerts featuring artists ranging from Janet Jackson and Coldplay to Lady Antebellum, Michelle Branch, Tuxedo, Liz Longley and ZZ Ward.

Movies: No links this year because I wasn’t as diligent as usual. But I did enjoy “Get Out,” “Lady Bird,” “Detroit” and, most recently, “Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri.”

Visitors: We had a surprise visit in early May from Chiho Hayamizu, a lovely young lady from Japan who was just 20 when she came to live with our family during a year of study at Portland State University. Our oldest child, Nathan, was just 13 when Chiho moved in with us in the spring of 1993.

Chiho, now 44 but still looking 20 (and even 30) years younger, was back in town for an unofficial reunion with friends who’d also been exchange students in Portland.

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Lori and Chiho: Radiant smiles, no matter the location or the year.

In October, my best friend, Al Rodriguez, came up from Santa Barbara to spend a few days timed to coincide with the annual Voices of August writers meetup. It was great hanging out with my longtime buddy, whether it was grabbing lunch from the downtown food carts or attending opening night of the Trail Blazers’ 2017-18 season. (They actually won!)

 

In November, two of Lori’s best friends, Terry (Long) Mullaney and Lin Dillon, came up from San Francisco for a long weekend of sightseeing and hanging out. Lori and Terry grew up on the same city block, and the two of them met Lin at the all-girls high school they attended. Nice to see such an enduring friendship.

Voices: For the seventh consecutive year, I curated a month of guest blog posts during the month of August. It’s become something that I look forward to every year, the opportunity to be informed, inspired and entertained by a changing cast of friends, relatives and online acquaintances, with ages ranging from 14 to 65-plus. Each person writes on a topic of their choice and does so in a way that brings variety and texture to the whole.

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This year’s VOA peeps gathered Oct. 20 at McMenamin’s on Broadway. Front row, from left: Gosia Wozniacka, Elizabeth Gomez, Jennifer Brennock, Lynn St. Georges, Lori Rede, Lakshmi Jagannathan. Back row, from left: George Rede, John Killen, Bob Ehlers, Al Rodriguez, Keith Cantrell. Not pictured: Eric Wilcox.

This look back at 2017 wouldn’t be complete without two final notes:

— This is the year both Lori and I moved into a new age bracket: 65. She’s still rockin’ it as the owner of her personal training business and I’m enjoying my work as well, as an adjunct college instructor and part-time communications coordinator for a local education nonprofit.

— Chalk up another year with our two pets: Mabel, the mellowest of cats, and Charlotte, the energetic mutt who’s won our heart with her antics and underbite.

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Up to no good. Again.

 

 

Guns and music

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Coldplay’s Oct. 2 concert at the Moda Center began with a minute of silence for shooting victims in Las Vegas and residents of Puerto Rico devastated by Hurricane Maria.

I like to think I have varied musical tastes. My playlists include from blues, R&B and classic rock to indie artists and even a dash of country.

Thanks to coincidental scheduling in the past month, I found myself at three concerts featuring big-time artists: Lady Antebellum, Janet Jackson and Coldplay.

That’s quite a variety. And as you’d expect, the fan base for each artist was distinctly different from the others, reflected in cowboy boots, glittery tops or vintage T-shirts, depending on the headliner.

In each case, I went to the show focused on nothing more than enjoying the music. It never occurred to me I might not come home.

Then came Las Vegas.

The idea of an outdoor concert becoming a killing field was something I could have never imagined. Now, thanks to a demented killer armed to the teeth with high-powered rifles, we have something else to think about.

  • One, the massacre on The Strip reminds us that evil knows no limits. How is it that we are born with brains that create beautiful art, scientific knowledge and feel-good music? And yet those brains are also capable of inflicting hurt and death?
  • Two, easy access to guns, coupled with technology that makes them ever more lethal, leaves us increasingly vulnerable to the unhinged.

Our newest deadliest mass shooting in the United States resulted in 58 lives snuffed out, and those of more than 500 injured and irrevocably altered. Simply for going to attend a music festival.

In the national debate reignited by the latest carnage, the killings have been framed in terms of “gun violence” or “mass murder.”

One view supports the idea that the federal government has a legitimate role to play in enacting reasonable restrictions on the types of weapons and ammunition one can acquire and stockpile. The other view rejects that role, instead arguing that human nature alone is to blame for these repeated massacres.

In other words, guns don’t kill people, people do.

I agree that you can’t legislate human behavior – that’s true in a number of areas of life. But I refuse to accept that as a reason to continue permitting the slaughter of innocents, whether it is dozens at a time or one, two or three people at a time.

Yes, I’ve heard the arguments that Timothy McVeigh killed far more using explosives and that people can turn knives or cars into deadly weapons. But it’s the sheer volume of gun deaths that should cause us to look for ways to minimize the toll.

We already know that guns are lethal. Allowing the sale of bump stocks, legal accessories that allow shooters to simulate automatic fire from their rifles, is unconscionable. Why make it easier for anyone to go on a rampage? Why not take whatever actions we can to stem the flow of handguns and rifles and bullets into the hands of our fellow Americans?

I’m not talking about confiscating guns, least of all from law-abiding citizens who use them for hunting. I am talking about banning military-style semiautomatic assault weapons .

In a country of more than 300 million Americans, we already have more guns than people. Isn’t that enough?

I could go on and talk about how and why guns are so deeply embedded in our culture. I could lament the Second Amendment rulings and passage of federal and state laws — in particular, those of the stand-your-ground variety that almost seem to encourage people to use their weapons. I could wring my hands at the unwillingness of our elected leaders to face up to reality.

But, frankly, I don’t have the energy to address anything more about this issue in any depth. At least not in this piece.

Countless words have been written and spoken. Countless videos and photographs have documented the carnage. You’ve seen and heard as many points of view from politicians and everyday citizens as I have. You’ve probably seen Jimmy Kimmel and other last-night comedians call out our do-nothing Congress.

I’m saddened by this bloody stain on America. As a nation, we should be ashamed.

My concert-going ways took root in the San Francisco Bay Area. As a young college student, I saw the Allman Brothers, Led Zeppelin, Santana and so many more at places like the Fillmore West, Winterland and the Cow Palace.

Back then, the major concern was finding a parking place near the venue. Secondarily, it was which fast-food restaurant to hit up for a post-concert snack.

Now the worry for parents isn’t what time is my child coming home but will my child come?

We’re better than that, aren’t we?

 

8 for the 8th

During the past month, I pushed everything to the side — gladly — to make room for Voices of August, the annual wordfest that features one guest blog post each day for 31 days.

With a new month already begun, I’m giving myself permission to look back at a few things of note. More precisely, eight things during the eighth month of the year. No surprise that they would touch on a few favorites: baseball, beer and the beach, live music, movies, education and exercise. In chronological order…

(Click on images to view captions.)

1. Liz Longley at DougFir Lounge.

Third time seeing this indie artist in Portland — and she gets better every time.

2. Escape to the Oregon Coast.

While Portland and the Willamette Valley endured triple-digit heat, Lori and I and Charlotte visited our friends Steve and Kelly Kern at their home in Manzanita.

3. School’s out. Taught two summer session classes, back-to-back, at Portland State.

4. Brewskis. Found my way to The Wayfinder, an awesome brewpub in inner Southeast Portland, with the help of a friend who works in the area.

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Sampling one of more than a dozen beers on tap with David Quisenberry.

5. The Bodacious Bakers. More live music, featuring siblings we’ve known since their pre-K days.

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Clara Baker performs an original composition with brother Marshall during a show at the Alberta Street Pub on Aug. 10.

6. At the movies. Went to the Living Room Theater in downtown Portland to see “Detroit,” a film based on a police raid at a motel that occurred during the 1967 riots. Very well done and very hard to watch, given the white cops-on-black civilians violence that was fueled by blatant racism. Watch the trailer here.

7. At the ballpark. Caught a Thursday night ballgame between the Hillsboro Hops and the Boise Hawks. Well played game that included a late home run to seal a 7-1 win for the home team in this Northwest League contest.

8. Exercise! My morning routine pretty much fell apart at the beginning of the year, when I was scrambling to keep up with three college classes and a part-time job at a nonprofit. Things got so bad I logged fewer than 10 exercise days a month for five consecutive months. July brought 18. August 21!

 

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So then I ruined my momentum by falling off my bike on a neighborhood ride. Lesson learned? Never use your front brake only when riding with one hand.

Branch-ing out with Michelle

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Michelle Branch does a countrified version of “Leave The Pieces” at the Hawthorne Theater in Southeast Portland.

Remember Michelle Branch?

The dark-haired, big-voiced singer who burst onto the pop-rock scene as a teenager, won a Grammy nomination as Best New Artist, and knocked out a bunch of best-selling albums and singles?

Seems it wasn’t that long ago that she and Carlos Santana were collecting a 2002 Grammy for “The Game of Love.”

But that was 15 years ago and, though she continued performing as a solo artist and collaborator, Michelle has laid low in recent years. I’ve always liked her voice, though, so I grabbed a chance to see her live in Portland.

Now 34, she’s touring the U.S. in support of a new album released earlier this year. Her Wednesday night at the Hawthorne Theatre drew an all-ages crowd for an hour-long set. It’s an intimate space, with room for about 500 people, the kind I like in order to get up-close to an artist rather than viewing a big screen image in a huge arena.

After a thoroughly forgettable warm-up band, Michelle came out to a raucous welcome and promised a mix of the new and old.

Can’t say I was blown away. Biggest factor was a sound system that made everything sound muffled. Secondarily, gotta say I wasn’t feelin’ the new material. Either way, it’s hard to get into the music when it isn’t as clear as it should be.

Branch had a nice rapport with the crowd and seemed genuinely happy to be performing in a small venue. The audience came alive and sang along on a couple of her biggest hits — “Breathe” and “All You Wanted.”

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Small venues allow you to get as close as you like to the artist — in this case, about 30 feet from Michelle Branch.

She brought a trio of women onto the stage, including a fiddle player, to play a stripped-down version of “Leave The Pieces,” a hit from the 2006 album “Stand Still, Look Pretty.” On that CD, she collaborated with Jessica Harp on a great set of songs that drew on their respective pop and country roots and earned Michelle one of her four Grammy nominations.

As for “The Game of Love”? Wish I could say Santana snuck onto the stage and blew everyone away. This version featured an old-school saxophone player doing the guitar solo part. Interesting, but nowhere near as good.

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Michelle Branch performs the monster hit “The Game of Love” with a sax player who is definitely not Carlos Santana.

This was my first time at the Hawthorne. Probably won’t be my last, but it’s not nearly as inviting a space as others around the city — Aladdin Theater, Crystal Ballroom, Wonder Ballroom, Mississippi Studios.

As for Michelle Branch, I wish her well on the tour. She’s a talented lady, working hard to resurrect a career that once seemed boundless.

Guy time with ZZ

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Bob and George enjoy a pre-concert beer on the roof of the former Washington High School in Southeast Portland.

This week brought the opportunity to hang out with with a longtime friend over a couple of beers and then enjoy a ZZ Ward concert at Portland’s Revolution Hall. My buddy Bob Ehlers and I were among a sold-out crowd of 850 who enjoyed a 90-minute set by Ward, described on her website as a “Fedora-rocking, guitar-shredding, harmonica-wielding blues siren.”

Yeah, a little overstated, but there’s definitely some talent there. ZZ plays guitar and keyboards and a damn-good harmonica. She also sings (duh) and writes her own lyrics.

If you don’t know her, ZZ is Zsuzsanna Ward, a Pennsylvania native who grew up in Roseburg, an Oregon timber town, and is now based in Los Angeles. Thursday’s show was part of a national tour to support her just-released second full-length CD called “The Storm.” Already, the CD has risen to No. 1 on the Billboard Blues Albums chart.

ZZ played more than 20 songs, delivering a high-energy performance that had dozens of young people in front of the stage dancing and jumping up like human pogo sticks. She attracted an all-ages crowd, so Bob and I fit in just fine.

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Roseburg’s own ZZ Ward rockin’ the house at Revolution Hall.

ZZ is billed primarily as a blues artist, but her music incorporates hip-hop and, in my mind, makes it really hard to slot her into a single genre.

I’d heard a few songs of hers on Pandora and was intrigued enough to check her out in a live show. ZZ is nowhere near the level of Susan Tedeschi, an accomplished blues guitarist and vocalist, but she’s got potential and I definitely felt I got my money’s worth.

Check her out and see if you agree:

Before the show, Bob and I spent a couple hours at a rooftop bar, enjoying the great view on a perfect summer evening. The concert venue is actually a refurbished high school auditorium housed in the former Washington High School in Southeast Portland’s Buckman neighborhood.

There’s a ground-level brewpub, plus another bar on the second floor, the auditorium on the second and third floors, commercial offices and community meeting rooms scattered throughout the four-story building, and lots of room on the roof to have a drink.

Just as the McMenamin Brothers have turned other schools and absolute buildings into thriving restaurants and brewpubs, so too did a private developer convert this tired old building into something imaginative and vibrant.

The grounds also feature an old athletic field that now serves as a dog park. In fact, this is where my little dog and I were attacked by a couple of unleashed big dogs during a visit here late last year.

On Thursday, a couple of dogs were there with their owners. Seeing them romping around on the grass made me feel a little sad, wishing I could bring Charlotte back for a visit.

On the other hand, I left feeling good about introducing my friend to a new venue and a new artist. Good food, good beer, good conversation, good music. Hard to beat.

Photograph of ZZ Ward by Bob Ehlers.