Multimedia freelance journalist. Lead Music Writer & Assistant Editor for Technorati. National Music History Examiner. Certified Google Creator Academy Alumni 2013. Join me on YouTube Interviews From The Edge or G+
#poison Poison Rocks! @bretmichaels Love this video! I think about 1,700 of those views are me. What can I say? This is the reason God made tight blue jeans.
Interview with Madlife lead singer Angry Phill
New album Angry Sonnets for the Soul on RBE/ Fontana
MADLIFE set to play Rock Hard at the Park with Korn and Five Finger Death Punch.
08.26.2011 - Post Falls, ID (Spokane) - Greyhound Park.
Visit http://madlifeofficial.com/ for tour dates and information.
"Art of Dying is one of the fast-rising, break-out bands who will be making a major impact on radio and the coming summer tour season. "Die Trying," the first single release, is currently ripping its way upwards on Active Radio and expectations are high for the rest of the album, Vices and Virtues.
Vices and Virtues, produced by Howard Benson (Papa Roach, Three Doors Down), is Art Of Dying's first album on the new Reprise imprint, Intoxication Records, which is the label creation of Disturbed's David Draiman and Dan Donegan.
There has been talk of Intoxication Records for a long time; a very cool concept from Disturb's veterans to take all that they've learned during their phenomenal music careers and use it to build a label supporting hot, new talent. The only thing that seemed to stall the project was finding the right band to launch the label.
Disturbed lead singer David Draiman said of signing Art of Dying, Intoxication Record's first band, 'In years of searching for a band to begin the saga at Intoxication Records, we finally found the fiercely talented boys of Art Of Dying; delivering uncompromising, harmony filled anthemic rock moments, fused with the right amount of attitude. They won over our fans time and time again, and we are betting that they will win over the world.'
Art of Dying is vocalist/lyricist Jonny Hetherington, guitarist Greg Bradley guitarist Tavis Stanley, bassist Cale Gontier, and drummer Jeff Brown. Check out ArtofDyingMusic.com or MySpace.com/TheArtofDying to learn more about Art of Dying and for tour updates." Read more --> http://technorati.com/entertainment/music/article/art-of-dying-debuts-vices-and/#ixzz1TLSYftke ART OF DYING - DIE TRYING - Official Music Video
The last two nights have been cold. The kind of cold that wraps itself around, radiating inwards. Making me feel fragile. Flesh over glass. Breakable.
I took the train all week. That has been my favorite mode of transportation since taking an Amtrak trip with my mother when I was little. I traveled by train all over Europe. The subways of New York and DC. I find there's something soothing in the rhythm of locomotion. Particularly on the night train, when the lights blink off randomly and the only sound in the world is the bump and whir of metal on metal.
I missed my train both nights. Projects that ran late so that I found myself sitting at the platform in the biting cold, alone. Wind gusts at 20-25 miles per hour and a wind chill factor in single digits have sent this city into hibernation. They are not accustomed to cold here. They've not experienced the kind of cold that I did growing up on the Atlantic Seaboard. They've never known the bite of a Nor'easter nor the sudden blast of cold air off the Chesapeake-- it sucks the very air from your lungs, like a punch in the chest that makes you gasp.
I felt the subtle vibration of the metal rails that signals the approach of a train and began gathering my things. My hands were numb, even with gloves and liners on, so that I had a difficult time making a fist around the straps of my bags. As I stood up to wait for the train to show itself around the bend in the tunnel a homeless man wandered past, wearing most of what he owned on his back and carrying the rest in black garbage bags. He walked past me, his mouth moving with words that I could hear, but not understand; the specific cadence that all city dwellers recognize immediately, the song of insanity. He did not look at me. I did not exist in his world.
I moved towards the edge of the platform to wait for the doors to open, anticipating the blessed rush of warm air that was sure to come. The homeless man had stopped talking now. Standing rigid on the far end of the platform he suddenly turned and shot me an angry look. He crooked a dirty finger at me and said "You're all done for." Then he turned and continued on his way.
When I got home I followed an old, familiar routine. A routine born on the Eastern Shore as a teenager. I immediately put the kettle on to boil for hot tea, turned on the stereo and then went into the bathroom to start the shower. I stripped off the many layers of my winter clothing, leaving them on the floor where they fell. Too cold to bother with them now.
I stood under the water, slowly raising the temperature from warm to hot. Letting the heat melt away the rigidity in my muscles. I listened as James Morrison sang from the other room. I've been twisting and turning in a space that's too small I've been drawing the line and watching it fall You've been closing me in, closing the space in my heart Watching us fading and watching it all fall apart
I felt my body begin to relax. Memories of home filling my thoughts.
I dressed in warm, flannel pajamas with thermals underneath and then poured a cup of hot Lady Grey. I picked up the package that had been sitting on my doorstep, abandoned no doubt, by my poor half-frozen postman after a few quick bangs on the door that got no response. I ripped off the parcel paper to find a hardbound copy of The Red Door by Charles Todd, the next book I'm due to review -- another commitment that I made to myself. I felt the momentary tingle of anticipation that I get when new review material arrives, then I stuffed it into my book bag for safe keeping and sat down to write.
The words of the homeless man are with me still. "You're all done for." I remind myself once more that this is not my home, it's just a place I'm staying until I get back there. I fear that if it's not soon his words might prove prophetic. The Sea is calling.
Links: Read with me? The next book for review is The Red Door by Charles Todd. Listen with me? The song is called The Pieces Don't Fit Anymore from the album Undiscovered by James Morrison
by Charles Todd.
by James Morrison