Do you remember...?

Remember the smell of a brand new blank audio-tape? Fresh from the packaging, it seemed to have a fruity scent. Does anyone ever think of these things anymore?

Anyone remember sitting by the radio with your finger hovering over the record button waiting for a certain song to come on? Remember "College Radio" and the new and different musical styles it brought to your attention?

Remember the buzz you got when you heard you favorite "Im the only one who knows about them" band was coming to play some dive? Remember when you could actually get to know the band before the show, because they were usually sitting at the bar?

Remember the rush before your first gig as a musician? No matter how bad you were, your friends came out to support you - mainly because you put them on the list and got them in for free.

Remember how the first time you heard a serious crunchy guitar, you wanted to move... it reached down inside you and made you move.

Maybe you discovered the feeling that drives a pit, or maybe you just found that deep anger that fuels revolution.

Remember that guy whose cousin played in that band that got signed and was now huge? What ever happened to that guy, and that band for that matter?

Remember your first concert? The first one you went to willingly, in a stadium or arena? Thousands of sweaty, stinky people all screaming in unison?

Remember your first show? Closer than you ever thought to your heros? With maybe a hundred people or so all deep into the music.

Remember when your friend's brother (who was in a bad with the guy whose cousin got signed) turned you on to something so different it nearly hurt?

For me, it was the first time I heard "Cemetary Gates" by Pantera. I was a Quiet Riot/Skid Row/Slayer kinda guy, and had not yet heard of Pantera - and at first I thought how lame... buncha pretty guitars and stuff - then the crunch hit. And the lyrics sank in.. To this day I can still quote gospel and verse from the book of "Cowboys from Hell." Can probably still hit the double-bass kicks.

Growing up in NYC, on the border of Queens/Nassau provided me with unusual opportunitys to get in with some of the bands that to this day, still command respect. I've lost some friends along the way, some have vanished - others have passed. But those guys will always be friends, brothers.

There was always a project - always a plan. Write a few dozen lyrics - turn them into songs - play loud. Simple.

None of my bands were all that high-tech, we were pretty simple. Although, when a metal band employs a horn section and back up singers - for a grand total of 28 people on stage at once, I don't know how simple that is.

Unfortunately, as cool as it all was - all good things must... and must they did. The scene turned to mold and mildew. Clubs closed, one turned into a church. Which is ironic in its own right. Scenes came and went. Concepts too.

To all those who have ever played The Spiral, The Pyramid, Spit/Raw, Nostradamus, Detour, Industry, Coney Island High, or any of the myriad clubs around NYC back in the day including that one in Forest Hills that had a pool and the Raven (the converted warehouse space owned by some band), or even a small open mic night in a coffeehouse on Long Island: Good show.

No one has come close to anything like the scene was back in the day. Now load out, and get back to your day jobs.

PostScript: I was remiss in forgetting 2 places that meant so very much to me, not much more than holes-in-the-wall, but important none the less. The Right Track Inn, and Hammerhedz/Februarys, or as we call it - HammerFebz.