Giving Him His Dream for Father’s Day

I was listening to music on my phone and I decided to be spontaneous and set my entire collection on Shuffle, letting every song play through. While I was moping about my latest 20-something; woe-is-me catastrophe, the song “His Dream,” by Asher Roth came on and I felt like “Damn!” Father’s Day is up this weekend and I hadn’t given it much thought because I’m too busy tracking down Ash’s tour coming to D.C.

I’m sitting at my desk and I have to lower my head, my hair falls in front of my eyes and I take off my glasses and close my eyes tight.

This song gets to me every single time. To me the man leaning back from his desk, rubbing the back of his neck, with two daughters and a son is so much like the man who combed my hair the best he could when mom was out of town; the one who drove me to choir practice and video taped every solo recital; the man who taught me to appreciate the power in words and the stories music tell. He is the only man who will dance with me when my song (every song) plays and the only man I know I can depend on.

My father always had a dream and it always had something to do with music. I remember him writing in his notebook, watching his friends take his ideas and his advice while they got the music deals and gigs cause he was too busy supporting a family.

Whether it’s in the genes or the fact that he insisted on singing to my mother’s belly when she carried us, we couldn’t ignore it. He wanted us to listen–not just hear music because he said you have to be able to defend it like it was your religion. You can’t sing a song or watch a music video around him without having to explain the underlying message in the metaphors and symbolism of the artist’s style.

Sure he may have laughed and teased us about our music selection but you could always catch him humming to my Alicia Keys, Julisa’s selection of Pink, or Julio’s Fall Out Boy.

Now I’m staring at his father’s Day gift and I’m ashamed at how quick and effortless I charged it and bagged it. I can’t think of a damn thing you can put in a box that could justify the sacrifices he made for me.

So I go home and have lunch with my parents and show him what I got and talked asks me about life. I tell him about the shows I’m going to and how I’m writing about them and the artists I love. It’s the hobby that keeps me sane between tug-of-war of work and college. He says he’s happy I’m going to school and living on my own independently. I tell him my plans and how I love music, movies, writing, culture, and photography. I tell him whatever I do it has to deal with music and writing. He smiles that loving smile and says that was his dream too.

So, I log him online and show him my little blogs and Facebook notes and his smile gets a bit bigger and I feel a little better. I can tell his dream is still alive in his kids and music is just as much as a passion for us too.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x1qQVaDFueM

Metro Siren

To share the best of music in the D.C. metro area.

Confirmed fans crowded the 9:30 Club Sunday, May 3, on a pilgrimage worshiping Gavin Rossdale, one of the best guitarists/songwriters to bless our ears.

His coming was long overdue but we quickly forgave him as we indulged in the hip-swaying, head- banging, hard rocking songs of his new album “Wanderlust”. The night in D.C. may have dampened a few of us outside in line to enter the club, but it served as a baptism for the few who were either too young, too high, or too ignorant to remember the glory of mid-90’s grunge rock.

Fortunately, Gavin keeps himself in good company during tours, introducing us with an opening act by the band “Endless Hallway.”

The Los Angeles-based five man group warmed up the crowd exactly the way they were supposed to, with a raw, grungy, punk-rock style that leaves your body sore and wanting more. They pleasured us with songs like “Games” and “Cell”, from their must have album “Autonomy Games” and tranquilized the crowd’s need for grunge by playing Nirvana’s song “Breed.”

The world stopped for everyone at the 9:30 Club as Gavin seemed to confess to us that he has been gone for too long, singing “Can’t Stop The World.”

He rocked D.C. with familiar songs from Bush like “The Chemicals Between Us” and “Breathe In Breathe Out” and dominated the stage with new songs “If You Are Not With Us You Are Against Us”, “The Skin I’m in”, and the smooth rock ballad “Love Remains the Same.”

It was like Gavin Rossdale never stopped playing or writing songs and I am glad for it.
Music always has a way to evoke the best in everything. There is no telling how many first dates, mended hearts, and new friendships were formed that night. But one thing is certain, Rock is alive and here to stay in Washington D.C.

Hello world!

When people think of D.C. they think of politics and museums, but my city is full of so much more than that. Sure, our bars and clubs may be full of more politicians, military members, and government contractors than in most cities, but when the ties come off and the shirts are buttoned low amazing things can happen. We love, cry, laugh, and do it all with a soundtrack in the background. I call the soundtrack the metro siren and it’s the music in D.C. Music is my passion, and lately my obsession because I am addicted to concerts. I’m not trying to lobby for or against a genre or artist. I just want to share with you my favorite shows and learn something about yours. What is your favorite part about a concert? For some it is the chance to get just a little closer to that hot guitarist or vocalist who seems to cry and strum all your pain and desires. A chance to be within feet of the mortal God whose image is plastered all over your locker and bedroom walls; the one who answers every apprehension with a song and makes us laugh with them in their music videos. My favorite part is the crowd. The people, just like me, who are there for all of the above and more. We memorize the tour schedules and sign up for every email alert. We make sure everyone knows when the band comes home to play. We are the ones who come early to the show and stay late until everyone leaves. Call us what you want, but we are fans of music. In the crowd it doesn’t matter if you are rich, poor, young, old, prep, punk, Emo, pop, from the country or the city. We may never otherwise talk to each other and we might even hate each other but the truth of the matter is that this silly little piece of music brought us all here. We are singing, dancing, having fun, and all is good in the world. So, when is the next show?