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Michael Devin's Blog
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  • 2012-03-20 02:03:15
    An Irishman Walks into a Bar... What Else is New...
    Well, well, well... look what’s washed up on the shores... a Blog ... I know, I know... I’m wicked late to the party with this one... but it is the Monday after a most fun-filled St. Patrick’s Day weekend, I’m still drunk on good luck, sportin’ the Celtic belt my sis got for me, so let’s babble on...


    What took me so damn long to post another blog? I’m gonna blame most of it on my parents. Always blame the parents, kiddies. Works like a charm. I flew to Leominster from after tour ended and I just got too damn comfortable. My mother is always trying to feed me pasta... a bowl of tortellini, always prepared. We celebrated her birthday while I was home...December 24th. Mum, Love you immensely... you are the center of our universe... you show how much you love us in big ways and we’ll be forever grateful for all you do for the family. You’re the best... I didn’t know what to get you, so I just hung around the house for a few weeks, slept off the tour, grew a beard, ate all your food... oh yeah, and drank all Dad’s beer. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.... love you both! Coming back to Cali, I moved into a new place in Venice... spent some time fixin’ it up... spent some time adjustin’ the ol’ antenna back into receiving mode...quiet the mind... a Beard of Introspection, a cup of hot tea... good for the soul. I’ve missed writing you, Readers...


    DC sent this one over in celebration of all things Irish and all things Guinness... check it out.... sheer hilarity... he says it reminds him of the tour manager trying to get the band onto the bus...


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    THE ELUSIVE FINAL BLOG OF THE 2011 FOREVERMORE TOUR


    Simple idea... write something... hit save... well, I didn’t... I trusted "autosave"... fledgling writer’s error numbero uno. Always save! Long story short, I lost most of the last blog... I tend to write shortly after things happen... time has a way of changing the story, things get foggy, the truth becomes obfuscated by nostalgia. The Devil’s in the details, as they say... and I just couldn’t reproduce what was written. So sadly, the last blog flew off into cyberspace... it’s floating above, around and around the planet it goes, at this very moment... telling stories to little green men... but I will share the few bits I’ve got, if you don’t mind....


    So, I’d been wearing this leather band since September 25th, 2010...a gift commemorating the John Bonham Tribute Concert, The Groove Remains the Same. I played bass that night alongside, I believe, about 25 different drummers. Tichy put the entire show together. That leather band had been on my wrist since that night...never played a concert without it. Rusted buckles, the leather long flushed of its color, stained...it told the story of at least two hundred sweaty concerts. One night in Brasilia, Aldrich and I are sittin’ on a dock of the bay, watchin’ the time roll away... overlooking a river rushing.. it’s nighttime, I see an opportunity for a Birthday Suit Night Swim, so I’m jumpin’ in... I feel free... Doug keeps a good eye out, cranks up some tunes on his phone and cracks a brew... I took off the band to keep it from getting wet... and just like that, plop! The sucker slipped through a crack in the dock...into the black river, it sank. I dove in to save it. No luck. My hotel key went with it too. Aldrich consoles, then guffaws... maybe it’s ’cause my ass is paler than the white moon hangin’... maybe it’s to remind me it’s just a piece of leather. Well... somewhere on the riverbed of the Lago De Paranoa in Brasilia, there sits a band, singing’ the songs of a couple hundred concerts... hell, if I had to give it away, I’m happy Old Man River is now rockin’ it...



    DC’s got this old colleague he catches up with from time to time at the concert tonight... interesting fellow goes by the name of Jimmy Page...all the guys are super-excited to see him again. He catches up with DC in private. Before I know it, over the din of a sold-out crowd at the Odeon, Page and I are chewing the fat about Christmastime, Boston, cold weather... just small talkin’... I tell him about the Christmas fair we all recently walked to where Tichy was dressed like Paul Bunyan ... he tells me that he purchased a couple of stone demons at a Christmas Fair a couple years back. He says if I look hard enough I could find something similar at any fair in Germany. That’s a huge relief. I really need a couple stone demons to compliment the black coffin in the torture chamber. Only the Prince of Darkness, High Priest of Darkness, Jimmy Page, would discover demon statues at a Christmas fair...of all places. Mysterio.



    Our last days off in Germany before we head for the UK... cold, rustlin leaves underfoot, we’re all walkin’... Tour Manager Gideon, Drum Tech Toast, Aldrich, Ruedy, Guitar Tech Linz...Tichy’s sporting some new boots.... the kind a carpenter would wear... a carpenter with poor taste in footwear. Between the checkered shirt and the boots, looks like he’s off to shingle a roof, but no, he’s just the Badger and doesn’t give a shit about attire... so we walk to the mall... why... nobody can say for sure... I guess it’s something to do... when we approach the mall, outside Christmas Fair is bustling... all lit up... colorful, musical, aromatic... hot pretzels, candied apples... there’s a hot cider booth... we make camp at a table right next to the tender...very tasty stuff....it’s a good day off. Tonight we’ll go bowling. It’s rock ’n roll bowling...black lights, big sound... entire band and crew...tall beers, lots of munchies being passed around... Wolf, the owner of the hotel we’re staying at joins us... he’s 65 going on 25... a German transplant, used to live in Haight Ashbury in the 60s, where he met his wife... a Flower Child turned model. Her beauty covers the lobby walls. We take up 2 lanes...it’s Big Ball Bowling tonight... Drum Tech Toast is a force to be reckoned with...serious power in his throws...Tichy slaughters with Spares... one of the crew, Greg, bowls like Fred Flintstone, ol’ Twinkle Toes... we cap off the night with a game of pool... never a dull moment when band and crew come together for a night out...


    At the Landmark hotel. I awake to the sounds of a piano player playing Christmas carols...18 stories below... haunting... like a sad ghost banging away on a Steinway that doesn’t exist...


    Back in the private jet flying from Krakow to Slovenia… you gotta love the private jet... Air Snake One! There’s fog over Slovenia, we can’t land, so we pass the fruit tray around, crank up some Motown, and crack a few beers... we circle overhead, hoping the fog lifts. Next the hors devours come out to settle the antsy rockers. I eat a finger sandwich with anchovies. good lawd, that’s salty. I don’t mean the anchovies, I mean the finger. My blood pressure is critical. We’re circling about… Reb is shitting himself... Reb doesn’t do well with bumpy plane rides... “Sure looks pretty soupy down there.” says Aldrich. Soupy... precisely. When we land it’s nearly 3 o’clock in the morning.


    Back on the bus! Imagine if your house grew ten wheels and some creepy guy drove off in it for a couple days... or even weeks, at a time... you’d get a little displaced, misplaced...that’s life on the road. The bus is the best. All I’m sayin’ is, sometimes it ain’t so easy gettin’ that cup of coffee you want first thing in the mornin’... that’s the bus for us... offering morning coffee, late night snacks... our little home away from home. We all come to depend upon it for more than a few things. Nothing like one’s bunk. Nothing like the Junk Bunk, either.... where everybody’s bags go. There’s something special about the time spent hangin’ in the back lounge for us, together as a band. It’s side-splitting funny, it’s madness... beers poppin’, glasses raised high, saluting some Dead Rock Legend... feels good to be home...and for the record, Tichy...Reb is right... the intro bit to Black Sabbath’s Fairies Wear Boots is entitled, Jack the Stripper. This argument goes on so long I feel I need an attorney present to represent me... if this bus could talk, man...


    Bernie Marsden is joining us tonight... Bernie... just a great guy, full of stories... lots of anecdotes. He notices we’re all a little tired... "Michael, back in July you were like, yeah yeah yeah! In December you’re like, mumble, mumble, mumble..." It’s been a long haul, Bernie... and a glorious one at that... every time you’ve joined the stage with us has been a real honor, Bernie.


    Whitesnake plays tonight in Adrian Vandenburg’s hometown of Enschede, The Netherlands... Whitesnake has never played in this town... tickets sold out a week ago. Adrian will be joining us tonight for a few numbers... he arrives and first thing I notice is these killer shoes he’s sportin’... sharply pointed, high-heeled, like he needs heels at nearly 6’7"... and yes, the shoes are rose patterned. I mean, that takes some serious balls to pull off. My Chuck T’s have gum stuck to the bottom. Reb says, "Man, you know a guy is doing well when he can pull of shoes like that." Tonight also marks our last show with The Answer, a great band from Belfast... they played an energetic set every night before us. Cormac Neeson is the lead singer and damn’ good one at that... they’re a hard working band. Hats off, Gents...


    That’s all I got left of it, kiddies... kind of like piecing together bits of the Dead Sea Scrolls... maybe not as historically or religiously significant, but at least I’m writin’ in a single language...


    Two Cent Soap Box – You are now one of 7 Billion People on Planet Earth. Gettin’ tight in here.. more LOVE to go around. Don’t forget about LOVE. World peace exists within. Change your state of mind, change the state of the world... better believe it! Thank you. Don’t shoot. And don’t follow leaders...watch your parkin’ meters...


    About the Beards....


    Tichy’s beard grows in like he’s got a 12 pack of bombs taped to his midsection ... that’s only a joke, TSA... Doug’s beard grows in like a wild patch of weeds in an abandoned golf course. Oh yeah, be sure to ask DC about Bikers for Christ. It seems as though I’m the last one ridin’ the bike.... Aldrich pulled off the highway first, when his whiskers were gettin’ in his eyes under his helmet... then Tichy converted to The Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster and allegedly the beard was shaved at an unnamed high-end Italian restaurant as part of his initiation into Pastafarianism... he hasn’t been on a bike since... The Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster is a real church... [link]


    There once was a man from my hometown of Leominster... Joseph Palmer...ridiculed and jailed for wearing a full beard... yes, folks, even in 1830... BEARD IS FEARED! Check out this dude’s writeup on Joey P...


    [link]


    Do women really hate beards? Really, Ladies?


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    Headed to Germany with Aldrich and Tichy for a performance at Music Messe... then onto the UK to do some "clinical analyses of the musical genre, ROCK"... in layman’s terms, "doin’ some clinics and rockin’ hard"... Tichy, bashin’ the skins like Bigfoot after it ate a bag of trucker speed... and Aldrich, shreddin’ up the guitar neck like he’s got scissors for fingers. We’ve been christened, by a Biker for Christ, as STEAMROLLER. I will be doing a signing at the EBS Sweden booth at noon on Saturday, for those of you attending Music Messe... come say hi... STEAMROLLER will be performing on Saturday at 1:30pm at the La Meridian Stage on behalf of Marshall Amplification... come check us out... musical surprises for everyone...


    Dear Readers, loyalty is a gift, and one not gone unrecognized. I appreciate every one of you who continue to read these blogs... I do love writin’ ’em and I’m floored by the positive feedback... ’tis a gift and I thank you from the bottom of my beatin’ heart! Best to you All... Happy Belated Saint Patrick’s Day to all ya Irish Hooligans! I sure hope Guinness is on tap in Hell! Cheers ’til next time and ’til next time, rosin up your bows!

    DEVIN

    PS...Scenario... You have a golden ticket, it’s 24-hour pass… for 24 hours you get to live a day in the life of any famous person throughout history…. who are you and why? Post your answers to my Facebook page or to the BBS on Whitesnake.com... or both...

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