Gutz is right. I see more shows than anyone. In the past two days I’ve seen five musical groups in three different shows. There is this short gray haired pony-tailed sandal saddled dude that I see at almost every show I go to, though. Tied for first. No thirst last night at the Isleta Hard Rock Casino. Showroom. Room enough for me. Is this the story of the summer? Right now it is, though revitalizing my iron through nourishment is just as important.

A month ago I bought a $15 ticket to the Los Lobos opening for Los Lonely Boys show at the Isleta Hard Rock Casino. I figured even if they only played for fifty minutes, it would be worth it. I drove the far western Paseo del Volcan road to the Casino Nation. As the crow flies, maybe fifteen miles. As the Dodge Avenger cruises… an hour. I only had to wait on line a few minutes to pick up my ticket for what was being loudly announced throughout the Casino as a sold-out show. Then, Chaz Malibu of 98.5 Golden Oldies announced he was in the Center Bar of the Isleta Casino and that he was going to give away pairs of V. I. P. tickets for the show. It was 6 PM. The show was at 8 PM. I figured I would go check it out. I was efficiently passed into the Center Bar and issued a small entry ballot and as I gave it to Chaz Malibu I considered telling him about my 1967 Chevy Chevelle which was a step down from the Chevelle Malibu but instead I told him it would be cool if he picked my name for the V. I. P. pass so I could renew my camaraderie with David Hidalgo, chance meetings that have occurred through the years ranging from the Santa Ana Star Casino corridor to some bar in L. A.

I was the first name Chaz announced and he pronounced my last name correctly; which only occurs 5% of the time. I was going to be a V. I. P. guest for the Los Lobos opening for the Los Lonely Boys concert. I immediately found the free beverage service area of the casino and I scouted out the correct bathroom stalls for administration of sacrament in order to attain the correct level for Kiko and his Lavender Moon. I also realized that with an hour and a half before the show, I could make some calls and invite some lucky friend to also be a V. I. P. Fortunately (at least for any so called “lucky” friend), that venture was in vain.

I was veritably giddy walking around. Immeasurable throngs were assembling and winding through the slot machines and gaming tables of the Isleta Hard Rock Casino. I did indulge in the “Lucky Strike” and Triple Chipotle machines, despite David Bromberg’s eternal reminder in my inner back ear that “a man should never gamble.” Fortunately it was not more than I could stand to lose… Ten bucks. The V. I. P. pass would have to be worth a heck of a lot more than that.

Awful lot of people. A lonely table in the lobby with a banner advertising 98.5 Golden Oldies. Chaz Malibu cannot be anybody’s real name. But thanks to his officious and perhaps crucial selection, I could approach the welcoming table and elicit very important treatment. Dark haired Anna was the hostess; I was decorated with a blue wristband and escorted unto the elevator to the 2^nd floor overlook balcony. Whoa. Actually, very strange vantage point. Nice chairs. Glass window looking out over the small arena, a “Showroom” that evidently was the original bingo room for the Casino before it achieved Hard Rockedness. According to Anna, the room would hold 2,500 for this sold out show tonight. By the way, in the hotel part of the Isleta Hard Rock Casino, there was a glassed in exhibit of “Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band” featuring signed guitars by Bruce, Miami Steve and Nils Lofgren, whose signature was flourishingly cool, much like Nils himself. The case also contained their shirts & other attire from a show; very distinctive. Later in the evening I would encounter a Hard Rock Official toting a Hard Rock electric guitar that had just been signed by Los Lonely Boys. I tried to trade a Isleta Casino Hard Rock Casino Tortilla Club sandwich w/ fries for the axe, but the Official was not hungry.

After my third visit to a incredibly spic and spanned rest room, the lights went down in the Showroom and Los Lobos took the stage. It took three songs for me to realize…. what the fuck… where is David Hidalgo? Cesar Rosas was doing it all, singing each song and playing lead. Louie Perez would take the second lead and play the rhythm. But this was like seeing the Dead without Jerry… ironic, as Hidalgo loves to do Dead songs; Bertha, West L. A., Not Fade Away…not a Dead song, but… To furthur the irony, Cesar’s oeuvre this evening were the canciones and covers himself; Papa Was a Rolling Stone,” “Hey Joe,” “Oy Vey Como Va,” and of course, the set closer, La Bamba > Good Lovin’ > La Bomba. WTF? No Hidalgo? I’ve been on the www since the concert; the Lobos have a Facebook page as well as their own site,… no mention of David Hidalgo’s absence at the Isleta Hard Rock Casino Showroom… Additionally mortifying was Cesar kissing the Los Lonely Boys’ asses. The LLB guitar player played most of the set w/ the Lobos. I did read somewhere that the Los Lonely Boys regard Los Lobos as Gods. Interesting absolutely no lip service was given to the absence of one of the Gods. Rosas came out early in the Los Lonely B’s set and stayed on stage for the rest of their 90 minute set; he seemed to be welcome by the trio but from my vantage it was pandering … especially since David Hidalgo was missing.

The Los Lonely Boys were very loud. They also sang a song about two dozen monkeys on a truck driving around town wanting everybody to get stoned. That’s what it sounded like to me. I wandered all the way down to the crowded stage floor for the last five songs of the night. I wondered how many people realized the bogositude of this show… few. How about the guy behind me who astonished at the LLB being a “three man band.” Yes… like Cream, Hendrix Exp, ZZ Top and Grand Funk Railroad… Mountain… what the fuck, no David Hidalgo? Day after what would have been Jerry’s 69^th birthday. Mystery abounds.

And the Y. I. P. lounge? Totally lame; cash bar, yes, but no snacks or tidbits. I wandered in and out with my complimentary Isleta Hard Rodck Casino soft drinks and Tortilla Club sandwich (hold the turkey).

I can only hope that I win the free tickets offered by Classic Country 104.7 to the Don Gibson concert. I won’t expect Neil to show up to duet on “I Believe In You.” Even though that show is scheduled for the fabulously beautiful Lensic Theater in Santa Fe.

Something Was Happening Indeed

Unfortunately it was Row U. All the way right. Realizing that I was going to be looking at Bob's back once he hit the keyboards, as the Copland theme resounded, I slipped down to Row E middle. E for Excellent, as was Bob's performance. First 6 songs on guitar, including some Neil-like leads on Watching the River Flow. Bob's voice was rich, deep and evocative. I was not initially impressed with the song selection - too predictable, except for "I Believe in You" and of course moving Watchtower up in the set list in order to close with Mr. Jones, which was stunning in its strength and Bob's enunciation. Now, two days later, I realize that I saw a gem of a show.

A personal highlight was being very comfortable in a sixth row seat that no one showed up for. Of course, once the show began, the fascist ushers carefully examined everyone's ticket as they arrived fashionably late. Even the morons who showed up at 9:15, just in time for the encore. Bob began at 7:45 with a show announced for 7:30 with no warmup. The pavilion was half empty, except for the 10,000 people who paid $14 for lawn seats a quarter mile from the stage. Of course there were no cameras set up for the big screens. A friend who did the lawn thing afterwards told me that the sound was great despite Bob looking like an invertebrate microscopic insect from the distance. The bowl filled up as Bob played fast and furious, spitting out "sometimes even the President of the United States has to stand naked" to absolutely no response from a crowd dousing themselves with $10 Fat Tire Pale Ales.

Anywho, back to a nice personal highlight. Across the row from where I sat were two 30ish women elegantly dressed and totally oblivious to the music. They were drinking the 15 $ margaritas, unless they were the $18 margaritas dosed with Grand Marnier. They were consorting with the head usher. Well, anyway, late in the show, many younger folks attempted to get closer to Bob, but invariably they were all turned away by the evil BouncerUsher. Even my friends Steve and Pam were with malice aforethought removed from some empty seats they absconded into joyously, momentarily. Well, here is the moment. Oh not yet. Late in the show, probably around Spirit on the Water, a young couple so luckily unseen by MuscularUsher got into the two empty seats ahead of the two elegantly clad Margarita bashed women - who then immediately called their bouncer over and very loudly announced that they knew those two seats were going to be empty that night and wanted it that way. I was aghast at their selfishness. So? Well, when Bobby told us to walk into the room with a pencil in our hand (my pen ran out of ink in the middle of "I Believe In You" so Ron Drumm is getting a postcard with two different kinds of ink documenting this show) I stood up for something that was happening although most of the audience was totally numb (Steve and Pam told me that they were constantly chided by people younger than us for standing up and dancing during the more uptempo Bobby) So Bob says

"You hand in your ticket
And you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you
When he hears you speak
And says, "How does it feel
To be such a freak?"
And you say, "Impossible"
As he hands you a bone"

So Bob gave me my moment... These two women were not "one-eyed midgets shouting the word "NOW", but I did walk over harshly at them and I did scream, "You're a cow give me some milk or else go home" They ignored me. They didn't even call the usher over. I wish they had. Then I would've had a head start on the 12,000 people who created a momentous gridlock in the Journal Pavilion parking lot. Of course it was still early; barely 10;00. We went to the Frontier on Rt. 66 where I had a large bowl of green chile stew and a sweet roll with a large OJ and we reminisced about an udderly divine Bob Dylan concert, much better than the fiasco at the Santa Ana Casino in 2001 when I was asked to leave the Casino for being me.

July 22, 2007

Bagels & Baseball

So I walked into Rio Rauncho's Bagel shop last week, and here’s this burly twenty-something right ahead of me on line wearing both a Red Sucks jersey and cap. So I immediately went back out to my truck to grab my Yankee-Mets World Series cap. I got back into line right behind him. I gave him that patented sarcastic Nadler smile. Of course the night before, they won and we lost. So he was smiling. I told him it isn't even August yet. He visibly shuddered. So the Sux fan is handed his order and offers a credit card. The young lady smiles and says "we don't take credit cards here." The Sux fan grimaces exclaiming, "I don't have any cash, I just ran over here to grab a quick bite." Well, this Yankee fan interjects with, "I'll take care of the tab for this gentleman." It was just a couple of bucks, but much better was the eternal knowledge that I enabled a Red Sox fan to attain bagel. He turned to me and said, thanks so much." I trust it was just a normal bagel with cream cheese. I didn't ask. But as the girl handed burly Sux fan his bagel I reaffirmed the eternal truth that we hold deep to our souls. I declared, "You are welcome, but you still suck."

I'm thinking about my classmates from the Jamesville-DeWitt High School Class of 1970 who are reunionizing this weekend in upstate New York. I regret that I could not attend, so I will post this info that I have already shared with several classmates:

We invested our summer vacation funds into a gala trip to Florida to celebrate my Mom's 90th B-Day on June 15th., complete with a surprise party at Pat Galluppi's Ristorante in Pompano Beach arranged by the most famous and favorite sister Franny Gail Nadler Chiarella. I will indulge you in catching up with forty years of life...

Life has been good. We; myself, Margaree Elizabeth Keller Nadler, a/k/a Betsy, my wife, and our kids who are now totally adults, Rebecca and Matthew, have lived and thrived in New Mexico, the 48th State of the Union. I regret that we will not be able to attend the 40th reunion; I know it will be quite the event but c’est impossible pour Les Nadlers…which reminds me that our son Matthew Nicholas Raymonde Nadler, a Coast Guard Fireman, 1st. Class, stationed in lovely San Diego, is having a truly authentic affair with a lovely French girl…the irony being that one particular French teacher fairly emasculated our son in Freshmen and Sophomore French class at Albuquerque Academy not too long ago… Well it was many years ago that I copied everything off of John Metz in Ms. Jensen’s French class…and it was I who replaced the dialogue tape in the language lab with Jimi Hendrix’s “Are You Experienced” tape…or so I recall…were there cassettes in 1967? Well, thanks for asking…our daughter Margaree Rebecca “Becky Pickles” is a 25 year old living at home writer/director/actress artiste type; that mostly inherited from Mom…Betsy and I have created a home and house here on the West Mesa looking down on Albuquerque; which is deservedly famous as a Neil Young song and the hometown of Johnny Guitar, the titular character of one of Nicholas Ray’s more essential films… I have been very fortunate and lucky to have experienced the stability of a solid marriage, raising two wonderful humans, romping with several large breed dogs, one who sadly went to heaven recently…Ender, a good boy, a strong and vital Golden…his kid sister Arwen survives him with us, although she is a tad “emo,” she is very loving and quite beautiful. “Well, a little bit furthur and we might have the time to say how do you do before we’re left behind." The most idiosyncratic and rather special aspect of my life has revolved around the Grateful Dead. “How do you do?” 47 shows…most of them in CNY in the 1970’s…and now the daily obsession of the Sirius Satellite Radio channel that plays Jerry & the Boys 24/7…it’s all I can do to sometimes change it up and listen to The Boss…Yes, life has been good; I’ve coached history and writing at Albuquerque Academy for twenty-six years now (after a previous seven year stint at Sherburne-Earlville HS in central New York), and I have taught basketball to all of our teams ranging from 8th grade to the Varsity under the tutelage of Coach Mike Brown, a New Mexico legend. We won six straight State Championships from 1989 - 1995; what a ride that was. One of our ex-players, Mr. James Borrego, is now Monty Williams' assistant coach with the New Orleans Hornets.…I did an apprenticeship at Sherburne – Earliville High School in the late 70’s/early 80’s, there and then I met the love of my life and when I proposed Betsy said “Yes, but only if I promise to leave New York state of mind before too long…one year after we wed, Becky Pickles was born just east of Smyrna, we loaded up the Ford Econoline and moved to Albuquerque…the rest, as we like to say…is history...perhaps this is a place to continue the chronicle...