08.25.07

Album Review: Sixx: A.M. - The Heroin Diaries (2007)

Posted in Music Reviews at 3:14 pm

Nikki Sixx, the bassist and key songwriter of Mötley Crüe, has lived a life far more insane and indulgent than you, me, or anyone we know. Here’s a guy who was raised by a single mother and her insolent boyfriend, abandoned by his father, moved all over the continent, and eventually became a petty thief and drug dealer. After learning the bass guitar, he moved to Los Angeles at age 17, joined a band, and soon thereafter started Mötley Crüe with Tommy Lee, Mick Mars, and Vince Neil.

Within a few years, they would rise to the top of the Sunset Strip circuit, and a couple years later, sign with Elektra Records, elevating the band to monstrous success and fame.

Now, imagine being a deadbeat kid from a deadbeat family living on the filthy streets of a deadbeat city and suddenly becoming an international rock icon of God-like status. All of the sudden, thousands of people worship you; you have more money and women than you know what to do with, and it’s all fueled by a record industry that feeds you whatever you need to keep it going so that they can suck your life dry like the vultures they are. Yeah, your life would be a mess too.

Sixx’s life turned into such a cocaine- and heroin-filled saga that his excesses eventually killed him — was declared dead after an overdose, but was revived by two adrenaline shots to the heart. After this, he cleaned up through rehab, and went on to produce Mötley Crüe’s most successful album, Dr. Feelgood.

The Heroin Diaries, written by Sixx’s new band Sixx A.M. is the story about the crippling drug addictions that Sixx suffered through, and his heroic return to sobriety. It is the soundtrack to the soon-to-be released autobiography with the same title. The album is an outpour of feeling from the heart, and is one of the finest concept albums I’ve heard in the past few years.

The album starts with an introductory monologue in the song titled X-Mas In Hell:

December 25, 1986. Van Nuys.
Merry Christmas. Well that’s what people say at Christmas, right?
Except for normally they have somebody to say it to. They have friends and family, and they haven’t been crouched naked under a Christmas tree with a needle in their arm like an insane person in a mansion in Van Nuys. They’re not out of their minds, they’re not writing in a diary, and they’re definitely not watching their holiday spirit coagulate in a spoon.

I didn’t speak to a single person today. I thought, “Why should I ruin their fucking Christmas?”

I’ve started a new diary and this time I have a feeew new reasons. One, I have no friends left. Two, so I can read back and remember what I did the day before. And three, so if I die, at least I leave a nice little suicide note of my life. It’s just you and me diary, welcome to my fucking life.

The album looks back on life, and takes you through the highs, the lows (”X-Mas in Hell”, “Intermission”), and the dramatic resurgence of life in the song “Girl With Golden Eyes”, where Sixx catalogues the day-by-day withdrawal and recovery in rehab. He then goes through the post-recovery steps of apologizing in “Permission”, and relives hope of the future in “Life After Death.” Most important is the hit song “Life is Beautiful”, in which Sixx looks back and pleads to “Just open your eyes and see that life is beautiful”.

Sixx really put himself out there in this one. He lived excessively, he learned too slowly, but he (barely) made it out alive and was able to turn it all into a chilling story for everyone to understand and enjoy.

The Heroin Diaries (album) can be sampled and purchased here, and the book can be found here.

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08.14.07

Time Zone Tribulations

Posted in Rants at 10:30 pm

Moving 1400 miles away from your home (which is already 1400 miles away from HOME home) is oftentimes a daunting task for a person. New job, new friends, business associates, new weather, new culture. Most people worry about these things. In an alarming realization that I probably have no soul, I have discovered that I do not worry about such things.

Instead, I worry about time zones.

The first 23 years of my wonderful life were lived in ignorant, pampered bliss: I was a native of Eastern Standard Time, which I am beginning to think is God’s Time Zone¹. In God’s Time Zone, you do not have to think. Everything is handed to you on a silver platter. Much of my first 23 years were spent devoid of subtractional time calculations required by the other 2/3 of the country.

But in the Pacific Time Zone, things change. You find yourself missing football games because you failed to wake up before the sunrise. You need to bug out of work early to see your favorite basketball team. And you get really damned good at subtracting shit by 3.

On the east coast, you do no subtraction. You are in God’s time. Everything and everyone is on your time zone. It is normal to call someone at any hour you wish, because if it’s 9am in Akron, OH, surely it’s 9am in Hermosa Beach, CA.

And therein lies the problem. It is not 9am in Hermosa Beach. It is 6am. And when I get telephone calls at 6am by ignorant east coasters, I get upset.

Natives of Central Standard Time (which is, despite God’s will, the most superior time zone I have yet experienced) are typically at least cognizant to the fact that it is not 9am everywhere else. They understand that it might actually be 7am in California.

But east coast people know no such shame. They can call you whenever the hell they want. And they do. At least twice a month, from my calculations — and I’m quite sick of it.

So sick of it, in fact, that I’m considering cutting off all business ties with the east coast. Not because I’m becoming a Mercedes-driving asshole who lives in LA. And certainly not because I’m a west coast elitist — far from it. But mainly, because I’m sick and tired of being called at 6-fucking-thirty in the morning!

So since it’s so difficult to understand the simple rule of “Subtract by 3 when calling PST”, I will provide a table for you to print and keep posted to your telephone:

Thank you.

¹Many people may argue that God is timeless, but that falls upon deaf ears here, for I have now lived in two different time zones, and can testify that God’s watch, built by none other than the blind watchmaker, is set to Eastern Standard Time.

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08.08.07

Weekend in Portland - Mountains, Beer, and Guns

Posted in Travels at 9:30 pm

A couple of weekends ago, I visited my brother Nick in Portland. It was a dominating weekend consisting of mountain climbing, beer festival drinking, and gun shooting — and in that order too, but with time to sober up in between!

I flew in on Thursday, checked out my brother’s awesome house, and then headed over to Last Thursday, which is an art festival in the Alberta District of Portland. Portland was just as goofy and full of hippies as I had remembered from my trip 3 years ago (album 1, album 2… note the night of album 2 was quite interesting).

On Friday, we had some delicious Thai food in downtown Portland (this city has by far the best Thai food), and then headed on over to Saddle Mountain, which is a relatively easy-to-climb mountain with some incredible views. After walking with Nick for a bit, I cranked up the tunes and turned up the mountain.

Saddle Mountain was my first-ever summit, and to be honest with you, it might be my last. I do not like cliffs, and I do not like the possibility of falling down one. Now that I’m at sea level, it seems fine, but I was definitely apprehensive up there. Perhaps this is part of the rush, but I think I’d rather hang out in the water or the sand.

On Saturday, we headed to the Oregon Brewer’s Festival, which had some incredible beers! My favorite two were Golden Valley Brewery’s Red Thistle Quercus and 21st Amendment’s Watermelon Wheat, which wasn’t too melony but had just enough to be dangerous.

After a day of drinking 8% beers, we headed to Steve’s house to enjoy a delicious dinner cooked by his girlfriend Adrienne. It wouldn’t be a trip visiting Nick if I didn’t get to hang with Alex, who I seem to bump into in every interesting mid-sized town (Portland, Memphis, Austin).

After a 12 hour drinking streak, what’s the next thing to do? Naturally, you scrape yourself up and go shoot guns! We headed over to an outdoor shooting range in Vancouver, WA, and tested out a glock. I completely sucked, but it was extremely fun after getting the hang of it. I plan on owning a few guns someday, and it was a great introduction.

Our time in Portland was incredibly busy and ridiculously fun - Thanks Nick!

See the full photo album here.

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