My Soul Refueled...

I was so excited to see Switchfoot for the 4th time, this time at the Regency Ballroom in San Francisco.  I had purchased the VIP experience so I'd be able to do the meet & greet but the day of the show I received an email stating it would take place at 4:30pm, prior to the show, right after soundcheck.  The last time I had done a meet & greet with these boys it was after the show so when I purchased passes, I excepted it to be the same process.  Needless to say, I was extremely disappointed that I had to request a refund because there would be no way my friend and I could make it to the city before 6pm.

Lucky for me, after an amazing show, we waited by the back entrance to the venue and Drew Shirley came out.  We chatted for a couple of minutes & I took this awesome photo with him.  A moment I will treasure always.

Help Me Win - Keith Urban

Please help me with up close & personal with Keith Urban.  It'll take less than one minute of your time & I'll finally get to see KU perform after all these years!  Star 101.3FM is giving me the chance to win.  All you have to do is click the link:

http://www.1013.com/pages/contests/urban/?6

Thanks a bunch!!!!

Discovery of The Fray

Act I

It was early 2006 when I flipped on the radio to discover that distinctive voice singing along to the piano…

I never knew
I never knew that everything was falling through
That everyone I knew was waiting on a cue
To turn and run when all I needed was the truth
But that's how it's got to be
It's coming down to nothing more than apathy
I'd rather run the other way than stay and see
The smoke and who's still standing when it clears

Everyone knows I'm in
Over my head
Over my head
With eight seconds left in overtime
She's on your mind
She's on your mind

Let's rearrange
I wish you were a stranger I could disengage
Just say that we agree and then never change
Soften a bit until we all just get along
But that's disregard
Find another friend and you discard
As you lose the argument in a cable car
Hanging above as the canyon comes between

Those words struck a cord as if Isaac knew exactly what was happening in my life at that very moment.  I was in the final stages of my relationship with the band I was managing, whom I’d been working with for two very long, intense years.  The feelings that bubbled up inside me as the lyrics pierced my heart were so powerful they moved me to action.  It was time to start making some changes in my life.

I was in the midst of a 6-month long distance relationship which would continue to the year and a half mark, and see me through the end of my working relationships (and some friendships) with the band and a move to Santa Monica.  Not to mention, a pretty major bump in the road with my family.  The Fray changed the way I saw myself and gave me a new view on those around me.  The spiritual lyrics and the sound of Isaac’s fingers as they caressed the ivories was enough to push them up to the top spot on my band list.  But I digressed.

Just a month or so later, I was listening to Mix 106.5 when that very song was playing.  As it came to an end the DJ informed listeners that the 106^th caller would win tickets to the Midday Mixer with the band later in the week.  If you know me, then you know that I don’t typically call radio stations.  It’s not my thing.  I work in radio and am not a crazed fan (other than my Menudo experiences which pretty much ruled my childhood) so calling a radio station to win tickets to a show???  Out of the question!  But The Fray captured my attention (and my heart) so intently that I picked up the phone and started dialing.  I don’t know how many times I got a busy signal (it seemed like a hundred – hey, that’s a Fray song) but I was so persistent that I just kept dialing and eventually got through.  What luck.  I was the 106^th caller!

So there I was with my sister on a weekday afternoon ready to rock it out.  I was still managing the band so I worked from home but my sister had to take a long lunch from work at the museum to go to a local bar in downtown.  There we were, waiting outside the Agenda Lounge having no idea what to expect or how many people we’d be competing against to get a seat close enough to actually see the band as they performed.

We got upstairs and somehow managed to seat ourselves on two ottomans placed directly in front of the stage.  We could “reach out and touch someone.”  There must have been 30 – 40 people in the room.  I was so excited.  The boys walked into the room as if they were just your average person and stepped up onto the stage.  As they stood there getting themselves settled in with their instruments, they began talking to us.  It was as if they were just hanging with a bunch of friends.  They were more humble than any other artist I’ve ever met (trust me, I’ve met my fair share).  They started playing and as I heard Isaac belt out those familiar lyrics, I wanted to cry.  I couldn’t believe how blessed I felt.  In between songs (they sang about 5 or 6) they chatted it up with us, talking specifically to me and my sister.  They asked us what we did for a living and when I told them I managed a rock band from Austin, they asked me the name of the band and offered me the chance for a quick plug.  It was a very cool moment.  They were just getting their start in the public eye and they were willing to share the stage (so to speak) with a band nobody had ever heard of.  Pretty amazing!

After the mini-concert was over, we had the opportunity to step onto the other side of the room where the band was waiting to sign autographs.  We got our 8x10 photos and walked over to say hello.  Of course, they started talking to us again, asking us about our jobs.  They really wanted to get to know their fans.  Pretty cool!

Act II

Cut to one year later…  I’m living in LA and The Fray is coming to town to perform at the House of Blues on Sunset Boulevard.  Here’s a show I can’t miss!  My best friend Angel is working as a nanny for a family in Beverly Hills.  The dad, Dave, is a VP at Ticketmaster and always talking about how he can get tickets to any show.  So I make a special request for Angel to get tix to the show.  She talks to Dave who says he can get them.  I give him the date/place of the show and he eventually tells us that we can pick our tickets up at Will Call the night of the show.

Here we are, two nannies who most days can be found in a t-shirt, yoga pants and sneakers thanks to our very casual jobs.  We’re so excited to be getting all gussied up and hitting the town to see MY favorite band.  We manage to get to Sunset without too much traffic and pay the ridiculously high cost of parking in West Hollywood a block away from HOB.  We walk to the venue and see the long line of people twisting around the corner and down the block.  Whew, thank God we don’t have to stand in THAT line!  We’re so lucky.

We walk down the steep decline to get to the Will Call office and are greeted by the woman inside.  Angel gives the woman her I.D. and tells her we’re here to pick up our tix being held by David at Ticketmaster.  She scurries through the box of envelopes and quickly looks at us like we’re Medusas with snakes growing out our heads.  What’s the problem?  “I’m sorry ladies but I don’t have any tickets for you,” she says.  WTF?  After some investigation, we discover that Dave got us tix for last night’s show.  What in hell are we going to do now?

We immediately call Dave who says he’s going to call the band’s manager, Jason Ienner.  He can’t get a hold of him but he’ll keep trying.  Are you frigging kidding me?  Is this really happening?  Angel and I always seem to have the best of luck together so we decide to go to the back of HOB where there’s a VIP entrance into the Foundation Room, a private bar upstairs that leads to the band’s dressing room and the VIP viewing section.  There’s a guy standing guard at a podium.  We explain our situation and he tells us to stick around and maybe we’ll see the band or manager and get inside.  After about 20 minutes of schmoozing with the guy, he eventually cedes to our charm and give us hot pink, glittery VIP wrist bands.  “Cool,” I’m thinking, “my favorite color!”  We immediately head upstairs and order a drink at the bar.  The bartender gives us a free chocolate martini that someone didn’t want.  Well, I guess it’s our lucky night after all!

Angel and I start walking around, on the hunt for one Jason Ienner.  The band has posted flyers all over the place that say “Wanted: Jason Ienner” with his mug shot as if he’s a criminal on the loose.  Cool, we now know who we’re looking for.  Thanks guys!  We manage to go into a back room where, low and behold, The Fray is hanging out.  We see Joe King (guitar/vocals) and Dave Welsh (guitar) standing there looking at us like we’re a couple of crazed fans.  Hmm, are we stalking The Fray?  We ask where Jason Ienner is and they tell us that he’ll be there shortly.  We tell them our story and they just look at us like, “Seriously?”

Eventually Jason arrives and we proceed to explain our little situation.  He says, “Come with me” and walks us directly into the VIP section which is a balcony overlooking the stage.  This is awesome!  We get to hang out there the whole night.  The mother of the drummer for the opening band Augustana (their performance really impressed me) offers us a seat at her table and we end up chatting with her.  When the opener finishes their set, the drummer comes up to visit his mom so we get introduced.  Can’t remember his name though.

The Fray hits the stage and as usual, I’m totally blown away.  The house is packed and the fans are screaming.  I’m just singing away.  They play all their hits and then, they do something that completely takes my breath away.  I hear the piano start and then his voice…

Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been
Lives in a dream
Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for?

All the lonely people
Where do they all come from ?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong ?

Oh my God, it’s the Beatles!!!  That’s enough for me.  I’m thoroughly taken aback.  These guys can do it all.

As the band continues to jam, Augustana drummer boy’s mother tells us that John Mayer and Natasha Bedingfield are upstairs so we start scoping out the place until I notice Mayer’s afro (it was before his Jennifer Aniston days, prior to “hotness”).  Ahh, John Mayer.  What do ya know?  A few minutes later he’s called to the stage where he jams on a few songs with the band.  Pretty amazing night!  My second time meeting The Fray.  This is becoming a habit.

Act III

I receive an email from The Fray’s fan list (did you really think I wouldn’t be signed up for it?) notifying me that the band will be performing on Jimmy Kimmel Live in Hollywood during the week and here’s how you can get tickets.  I begin obsessing because now that I’m living in LA I’m not going to miss my chance to check out my favorite band on a late night talk show.  I get my confirmation email that I have two tickets to the show.  After one friend backing out at the last minute due to a huge and rare rainstorm that has hit the Southland with ferociousness, I ask Angel if she would care to join me since she’s got the day off from work.  She decides to go and luck takes over from there.

We get out to Hollywood and park at the Hollywood Highland Complex which is across the street from the studio where Jimmy Kimmel is filmed.  It’s starting to sprinkle but we figure “it’s just a few raindrops” so we leave the umbrella in the car.  We haven’t eaten so we start hiking it East on Hollywood Blvd. to the McDonalds so we can get something to go.  As soon as we get our food it starts raining buckets.  We run as fast as we can down to the studio and notice a small line is already formed.  But it’s raining and these smart ones left their umbrella in the car.  A whole lot of good it does us there.  So we wait under the awning next door at El Capitan Theater while we eat our food.  After demolishing our fries we get into line and the rain starts coming down even harder.  The studio audience coordinator brings us an umbrella to huddle under.

When we finally get out of the rain and into the studio, they put us in a holding room to show us a video about the show.  The studio where the main part of the show is filmed is downstairs but we can see behind us the Pontiac Garage stage where the band will perform at the end of the show.  Are we going to be separated?  Is everyone seeing the show?  What’s going on?  All these questions running through my head.  So Angel pulls aside another audience coordinator and asks him if we’re going to be able to see the band perform because that’s what we came for.  He tells her, “Don’t worry about it.  I gotcha!”  She tells him, “You don’t understand.  My friend is the biggest The Fray fan and she needs to see them up close.  She’s not a stalker or anything.”  He tells her again that he’s got it covered.

When it’s time to go in, they seat us like we’re at a restaurant.  “How many in your party?” then direct you to a seat.  The guy sees us and immediately takes us to these seats that are in the front row of the back section and puts us in the aisle seats.  They have the best access to the exit.  When the show is over he immediately releases us so we can head for the stage.  But people start pushing past us and we get stuck in the crowd.  The guy leads us to this side area but it’s not a good spot so he grabs us and drags us to the front.  He puts us right smack in front of the stage so yet again, I can reach out and touch the band.  Jimmy Kimmel introduces The Fray and they step onto the stage.  Isaac and Joe look over and see me and Angel and start whispering to one another.  I think they recognize us from previous shows.  Oh God, I AM a stalker.  They start talking to the audience as they’re getting set up and it’s as it was before.  They are still down to earth, humble guys from a band that happened to grasp success in their hands early on.

They start playing “You Found Me,” their first single off their second album and I start singing like there’s no one else in the room.  I notice the camera guys are all over me and Angel like white on rice (what does that phrase mean anyway?) and I’m embarrassed because this is being televised on national TV.  I try not to look at the cameras but you can’t help but to notice they’re there, especially when you’re camera shy like me.  Angel smacks me hard on the arm to tell me the camera’s on us so I turn to look and have that George W. Bush deer caught in the headlights look.  Oh Lord, thanks a lot Angel!  The show was phenomenal as always.  When it was over, the boys came off the stage to shake our hands and say hello.  Yet another day in the life of Patricia accidentally stalks The Fray.  Really, I’m with the band.

Act IV

To Be Determined in August when I see them again at Shoreline Amphitheatre.

At the Jimmy Kimmel Show in Hollywood:

Obsession With A Culture

First Contact 

It began in 1983 after the long trek home from school, following closely behind my older sister Gina, to our small one story house in a middle class neighborhood of San Jose, California.

We were what they called “latch key kids” which at the time was normal. In the 80s it was somewhat normal to have a dual income household. The kids would have to walk home from school by themselves and stay in the house for the next few hours while they waited for their parents to come home from work. We’d always call Mom at work as soon as we got home. I don’t know how she never got in trouble because it never turned out to be just one call. Usually Gina and I would end up in an argument and there would be phone call after phone call to her complaining about each other. Ahh, to be a child again.

I’d just developed my first crush on a boy, Scott, a year older than myself, whose long blonde bowl-cut hair, the latest 80s style, covered his face. He looked like Ricky Schroeder from my favorite TV show Silver Spoons, who was, at that time, the object of all the girls’ affection. I was young and impressionable, still a small child at the age of eight. As soon as I arrived home from school and finished my chores for the week I quickly flipped on the television set (you actually had to get off the couch and walk to the TV set to turn it on in those days). I switched the channels until I found Silver Spoons. The show was about a millionaire father, Edward Stratton, III, who lives in a mansion with a train running through the middle. He discovers he has a son, Ricky Stratton and tries to make up for lost time by spoiling him with lots of toys and video games a boy (or man) could dream of.

On this episode, Ricky promises Consuelo, a girl he’s trying to impress, that her favorite music group, the Puerto Rican pop sensation Menudo, whom she loves is going to be singing at his birthday party. In fact, he’s never met this guys and has no such plans. Ricky pretends to be a room service waiter at the hotel that Menudo is staying at in order to meet the guys and convince them to come to his party. When the guys find out there will be video games they agree to go to Ricky’s party and sing their hit song, “Gotta Get On Movin.” Watching those five unusual looking teens singing and dancing their awkward dance moves was my first experience with the Puerto Rican culture and the very event that would lead me down an unexpected path into the arms of several Puerto Rican men and a life of music. 

Phase 2 

It wouldn’t be until two years later that I would find myself making contact with the Puerto Rican world yet again. I was 10 years old and in the sixth grade. My parents had put me in school a year early so I was a year younger than the rest of the kids in my class. One day while I was at school I met a handsome, dark haired and dark eyed boy, Kenny. He didn’t look like any of the other boys in school and he certainly didn’t act like them either. He had mostly female friends (who usually had a crush on him) and he always walked around in tight biker shorts looking like he was ready to hop on his bike at any moment and go for an 8-mile ride. He would become a casual friend in my junior high school years but it wasn’t until high school and then later in life that we forged a bond and developed a real friendship. Kenny was also Puerto Rican. 

Calling Me Home 

In 1987, as an eighth grader, I would enroll in my first Spanish-language class as a part of my middle school curriculum. I found myself becoming interested in the culture and then soon enough I was actually becoming good at this foreign language they call Spanish (except for “napkin,” the one word on a vocabulary test that I didn’t know so I wrote in English and placed the accent on the “I” like so: “napkin.” Somehow the teacher missed that one). During the school year I would practice and develop my skills at speaking this new intriguing language.

As a tool to help us better absorb the vocabulary, our teacher Ms. Pereirra would bring in the lyrics to different songs and we’d listen to the song and read or sing along as the music would play. We learned “Happy Birthday” (Cumpleaños Feliz) and Ritchie Valens’ “La Bamba.” For the first time I was finding something I loved and I was developing a strong passion for a new culture and the very thing that would take over my life for the next twenty years: Latin music.

It was 1988 and I was entering a new phase of life, becoming a freshman in high school. I was back to the low end of the totem pole but my sister was in her senior year and we would share one semester together in the same school. I reacquainted myself with a friend from elementary and junior high school, Georgina. She was different from the girls I usually spent my time with. She came from a multi-cultural home. Her dad was Greek and spoke with a heavy accent and her mother was Mexican who melded her own culture with the American way. We quickly became best friends, spending many days after school together, walking to the grocery store to buy our favorite pastry with the spare change we could dig up from the couch and our parents’ pockets. Some days I would even eat dinner over at Georgina’s house. This is where I had my first real Mexican dish – Chicken mole. Who knew chocolate would taste so good on chicken? It was delicious. Soon my hunger for the Latin culture grew more intense.

It was that year that Georgina introduced Menudo back into my life. She shared with me the group’s English language LP (yes, I’m old enough to admit that I listened to actual records!), “Sons of Rock.” It would become part of my life for the next 15 years, running in my blood.

One day at school Georgina announced to me, “Menudo is going to be at the record store on the East side signing autographs.” Ricky, Sergio, Ruben, Ray, Angelo and Robert were all going to be there. These were completely different members of the group than the first time I had seen them on Silver Spoons. You see, the whole basis of Menudo was that each time a band member turned 16 or started to get too big, too tall, or his voice started to change he had to leave the group, to be replaced by a newer, younger, cuter boy. Robert was in training mode because he was replacing Ricky (later to become famous to the rest of the world – THE Ricky Martin) who was getting ready to retire based on the Menudo rules.

I don’t remember why I couldn’t go to the autograph signing but I was heartbroken. These boys were adorable and they gave me something to live for. I couldn’t get enough of them. I listened to their music, taped their interviews on the radio (yes, I did say “tape”), joined fan clubs and began exchanging letters with pen pals, all young girls who were fanatics just like I was.

Then Georgina announced that she was going to the concert at Cow Palace in San Francisco. Indeed I HAD to go too. The next thing I knew my sister and I were in her car on the 101 freeway headed north to the concert to see Menudo. Being four years old than me, Gina could drive and she had a car of her own so we didn’t need a chaperone. I don’t know how my parents ever let us get away with the things we did. Driving up to SF, 60 miles away, on a Saturday evening by ourselves and then come home late at night was a pretty bold thing to do for two teenagers. Especially at a time when there was no such thing as a cell phone. But we did it anyway.

I remember the Sons of Rock concert just like it was yesterday. I had a secret crush on Ruben but as I heard Angelo sing “You Got Potential” and watched him dance on stage my heart fluttered. It was as if he was singing directly to me, the only girl in the room. Me, of course, and the thousands of other girls screaming at the top of their lungs and jumping up and down with signs in their hands saying, “I love you, Ruben” or “Menudo, you are the Sons of Rock.” That event was such a pivotal moment in my life, one that would lead me to a future with bands. I still have the quarter page flyer with a photo of the five Puerto Rican boys that would change my life and my first Menudo concert ticket which read: Menudo, Cover Girls and TKA Cow Palace Saturday, November 5, 1988.

After the concert was over, Georgina, my sister and I rushed to the side of the stage where somehow we managed to convince the security guy to tell us what hotel the group was staying in. After little debate we agreed to go to the Choice Hotel and find the boys’ rooms. It was in this moment that I would meet Menudo for the first time and my life would be Menudofied forever. I don’t remember the details of how it happened but somehow the group’s choreographer Joselo would bring the boys out into the hallway. We would meet Angelo, Ricky (thee Ricky Martin), Ruben and Sergio. We managed to take photos with Angelo and Ricky, me with my short curly hair and my silver rail road tracks covering my teeth and my sister with her giant hair and huge white hoop hearings. It’s a day I’ll never forget. To be continued…