A few nights ago, I had the misfortune of being in a situation that involved the Maricopa County Sheriff's Department. I won't go into details, but as the night wore down I wound up having a bit of a debate with one of the deputies at the scene that left me sad and disgusted. Maybe it's just me, but I will never understand people who are so set in their views that they can't even consider the opinions of others. I'll admit, I'm pretty tough to sway when it comes to my ideas on things, but I have the utmost respect for people who can at least make me think.
     I haven't traveled nearly as much as I would have liked to at this point in my life, but I relish every chance I get to do so. I've been enough places and interacted with enough people that I've come to the conclusion that people are people, no matter what their race, nationality, religion, or economic standing may be. Sure, there are quite a few bad ones, but most are just trying to get by the best they can. This is why I've come to hate things like racism, nationalism, homophobia, sexism, and xenophobia so much. It's also why I've become increasingly critical and intolerant of laws designed to keep people poor and fighting among themselves.
     I think it would do the vast majority of the population some good to let their guard down and stop building walls and fences between each other, maybe try and think of the ways other people are affected by the state of the world these days. Leave our little bubbles we live in and go visit another place and see how other people get by, even if it's just the next town over for a day. Maybe we should all try and strike up a conversation with a person from another country instead of looking at them and calling them "terrorist" or "illegal."
     Perhaps if we all go out and try these things, try walking in other people's shoes, we'll all wake up and start to care where our world is going. Maybe we'll actually take the time to learn about the terrible things being done by the ones we elect to lead us, so that when the next election comes, we'll care enough to turn off our televisions for a little while and go out and get these people out of the offices they don't deserve. I know trying to explain this to a cop, who's probably never left his home town, was completely pointless. I just hope other people aren't quite so ignorant.

     When I was very young, I had the good fortune of going to school and living right down the road from the best record store in New Jersey, Vintage Vinyl. My great grandmother came to live with us when I was 7 and she used to pay me $6 a week to walk her dog every day after school. I used to use this money to go hang out in Angelo's Pizza, which was right next to the record store. I didn't have too much interest in music in those days, mainly just whatever was on the radio. I had a few tapes, mainly stuff like Bon Jovi and Def Leppard, but nothing that was ever more than background music. 

     I know I've often gotten nostalgic about my introductions to hardcore, death metal, or grindcore, but in my youth the first band that ever seriously captured my imagination was a rap group, the Beastie Boys. Their videos for "Fight For Your Right" and "No Sleep Til Brooklyn" were inescapable. They quickly became the soundtrack to all my youthful misadventures. It was with this newfound love of music that I, for the first time ever, walked into Vintage Vinyl one day after school armed with two weeks worth of dog walking money and purchased my first record ever, the Beastie Boys "Licensed To Ill."

     Over the years, as my taste in music leaned more towards the heavy side, I always followed what the Beasties were doing. "Paul's Boutique" wasn't exactly my thing when it was released, but I grew to appreciate it in later years. They won me back when they embraced their early hardcore influences on "Check Your Head" and "Ill Communication." I finally saw them live, twice actually, in 1994. First, as headliner of that year's Lollapalooza tour, and second at a headlining gig at Compton Terrace with the mighty Bad Brains as the opening act. Due to insane circumstances involving Arizona's eternal inability to build roads that can accommodate large amounts of traffic, I missed all but two songs by the Bad Brains, but the Beasties killed it both times. They were a fantastic live act, even if they did shy away from performing their earlier material at that time. 

     It was with great sadness that I heard the news of Adam Yauch's death today from cancer. Even though I haven't really kept up with their more recent output, the Beastie Boys music has always been, and will always be, a big part of my life. It saddens me to see someone who was not only a gifted, pioneering performer, but also a well rounded producer and director, be taken away.

 R.I.P. Adam "MCA" Yauch 8/5/64 - 5/4/12

     Throughout most of my life, music has always been the one thing I can always count on to be there when I need it. No matter what I was feeling, there was a song or a record that made me feel like I wasn't alone, that there were other people out there who had been in the same places and felt the same things as me. As a young punk rocker, I never really had a focus on the things I felt, I just knew when something resonated. I knew I was pissed off, but didn't know at what. I knew I was always depressed, but didn't know why. But there was always some piece of music that struck a nerve, whether it was Henry Rollins screaming My War or J Mascis mumbling through Freak Scene, all I knew was that I felt a connection with these people, with every word and every chord. When I was about 15 was when I found the band that I would feel that connection with the strongest.
     A bunch of us worked at a little mom and pop pizza joint in Glendale called Ralph's La Hacienda. The place was legendary among all the West Phoenix punks at the time. Myself, plus my friends Ryan, Vito, and Matt all worked there, and everyone else would hang out at back until we either got off work, or Ralph got mad and kicked everyone out. The dish room where we worked was always filled with the sounds of whatever punk rock we were into at the moment. Circle Jerks, Pennywise, The Vandals, Propagandhi, and Guttermouth were all bands that were on our regular playlist. It was in that tiny, hot, cramped dish room that I heard Avail for the first time. I remember Ryan bringing the tape, I don't think it was actually his though since I'm pretty sure he didn't like them. It looked cool enough, simple black cover with a stick figure holding a flag. We always used to joke that he was taking that flag to burn it somewhere. The music wasn't like anything I had heard before. It was definitely punk, but something about it stood out. The music was a bit more melodic and had more of a southern rock feel to it and the vocals were very clearly sung. Then there were the songs. On The Nod, Southbound 95, Model, Tuning, and for me especially Beliefs Pile, all became songs that I would never forget after a few listens.
     Avail "Dixie" quickly became one of my most played tapes. I remember I didn't have much money to buy music, so my buddy Doug taped it on one side of a 90 minute cassette with Propagandhi "How To Clean Everything" on the B side. I played that tape constantly. I think I still have it somewhere. I found out they had another album, "Satiate," so I tracked that down at Eastside Records and became hooked on that one too. Our friend Ian had been the one to initially show them to our group. He had seen them play at some venue that was in the basement of a church not long before my first encounter with them. This bummed me out a bit, because back then bands like that didn't come through town several times a year like they do now. Luckily for me, Avail was a touring machine back then and that summer they came to the Nile Theater in Mesa.
      That was a crazy week. I can't remember if it was the night before, or the night after, but there was a Ska/Punk festival with the Circle Jerks that we all went to, and I'm pretty sure Pennywise played that week too. I took all three nights off from Ralph's and wound up getting fired when the kid who was supposed to cover my shift never showed. It was worth it. The openers were a local called Those Meddling Kids, who we had seen before, and a band from Canada called Gus. I'll never forget how amused Doug was by the name "Gus." Their names are pretty much all I remember about them though, Avail made every other band seem like a distant memory. They were the most intense, yet fun, live band I had ever seen. Nothing before or since even comes close. It was the first time in my life that I had been completely entranced by a band. Their set is a blur. I remember hearing Virus, I remember hearing Tuning, I'm pretty sure they closed with Connection. Somewhere in there was a short cover of Sweet Home Alabama, they were kind of known for throwing random covers in their set. It didn't matter what they played, the performance was pure catharsis. The band never stopped moving once. Beau, the band's official mascot/cheerleader, climbed on top of the PA, jumped in the crowd, seemed to be everywhere at once. But most of all, I'll never forget Tim Barry. I had never seen a frontman who delivered with that much conviction. His words meant so much to the people in the audience that they were all singing as loud as he was. So was I. I couldn't talk the whole ride home.
     As the years went on, they put out great new records and I saw them play many more amazing shows. Every one was memorable in some way. Their songs have only become more meaningful as I've gotten older. Tim's lyrics have always been open for interpretation, and I think every person who is touched by them takes something different from them. Awhile back I was in a very dark, depressing place in life, and their song Taken randomly came on my iTunes shuffle. It was like that song was waiting to make me pull myself back up. My friend Valerie was going through a tough time as well, and I was inspired to make her a CD of some of their songs that I felt applied to her situation, particularly the song Nickel Bridge. This wasn't the first or last time that their songs have gotten me through a hard time, but it felt great to not only try and help a friend, but to turn someone on to a band that has meant so much to me over the years. It's hard to explain what it is about them for me, or any band that moves someone for that matter. I don't understand people that have never been moved by a piece of music. In the course of one record, I've felt the urge to get up and throw my fists in the air one minute, and have had to fight back tears the next. It's that powerful to me.
      It's been a few years since Avail has put out a new record or played any shows. "Indefinite hiatus" is what I keep hearing. Tim Barry has gone on to create several excellent acoustic albums, and the other members have played in various other bands. But none of it is Avail. Nothing will ever match the beauty of those five people together. I hope they can find a way to do it again, if only for one night.

In order to properly introduce this blog, I feel I should explain the origin of the name. Back in my teens and early twenties, I had a close friend named Phil Hansford. We were in two bands together, Opposition and Sea of Deprivation. I made my first record with Phil and we did our first tour together. Anyway, Phil had a way of summing things up quite brilliantly. As anyone who knows me should be aware of, I am quite prone to rants on just about any subject. I honestly can't remember what I was even talking about on the particular day in question, but we were on our way to Sea of Dep practice and I was going off about something. Phil let out one of his understated, mischievous laughs that anyone who knew him will remember well, and looks at me and goes, "Tim, you are just a seething cauldron of hatred." It was a perfect statement that I'll never forget. So this page's title is a tribute to Phil. I'll be using this page to write about everything I love, music, food, beer, touring, hockey, pretty much whatever comes to mind. There will be stories, reviews, and yes, ranting. Lots of ranting.