I was DJ-ing at Siggy’s and because I rode to the club with friends that night, I had a bit of a dilemma when I finished my shift at 2AM. Simply put, I had no vehicle and I lived twenty-five miles away. Fortunately there was a girl in the club at closing time named Candy who I’d known from the local rock scene for many years. Candy and I had gone out a few times and I really liked her a lot. In fact, I liked her so much that even in my former pig life, I never pursued her sexually – our friendship was too important to me to destroy it by allowing sex into the equation. I hadn’t hung out with Candy in several months and as I was packing up some of my DJ gear at closing time, I asked if she’d like to have coffee with me at the all-night diner across the street and maybe give me a lift home (friends can do that). As we left the diner at about 3AM, Candy confessed that she wasn’t really up to making the drive back to her place alone at that hour after dropping me off. She further reasoned that it made more sense for me to crash at her place and she’d drive me home the following morning. We’d often discussed how sex would be the death of our friendship, so I felt comfortable that I wouldn’t regress if I took her up on her offer.
I never had been inside Candy’s place before, so upon our arrival, she gave me the official tour. From her multi-color painted walls to her ultra-chic furnishings, Candy’s home was what us old timers would refer to as a groovy pad.
“And this is my bedroom,” Candy announced as she flipped on the lights in the room next to the kitchen. As if I was experiencing déjà vu from my recent visit to Tabitha’s, I immediately noticed that Candy had a trampoline positioned next to her bed! A trampoline? Really? I literally had to laugh out loud because I’d been in only two girls’ apartments since my awakening and they both had gymnastic-type apparatuses with (possible) sexual connotations prominently on display. I immediately led Candy back to the living room where we sat on the couch and talked until she fell asleep around 5AM. In sum, Candy dozed off, I behaved and we continue to enjoy a beautiful and valuable friendship.
Keep watch and pray, so that you will
not give into temptation.
For the spirit is willing, but the body is weak.
Matthew 26:41 (NLT)
Lucky Charm
There was another gal in town who I’d had my eye on for a while named Autumn. At first glance, only one word would come to most people’s minds when she entered a room – “Barbie!” I was familiar with Autumn from the local club scene, but I never approached her as I always perceived her to be in a committed relationship. As a result, I wasn’t even sure she knew who I was.
Autumn resembles blond bombshell vocalist Dale Bozzio from the early ‘80s band Missing Persons, who, physically speaking, is allegedly my kinda girl. I was shocked and delighted when she called me up out of the clear blue in late 2010. Autumn recently had gotten involved with the local music scene and she invited me to meet her for coffee so she could ask me a few questions about how to move forward with her new band. Hmm, a “Barbie” and Starbucks? I couldn’t get there fast enough!
In her typical fashion, Autumn arrived at our meeting looking as if she’d just left the set of a Bon Jovi video shoot. In fact, I think she was even wearing a Whitesnake baby doll top! We ordered our coffee, sat down and began a fabulous hour-long conversation covering numerous topics including the local music scene. Although I’d frequently seen her around town for a couple of years, we’d never spoken to each other and I really enjoyed finally getting acquainted.
Toward the end of our conversation, Autumn mentioned that she’d brought me a gift. “I saw this and immediately thought of you,” she confessed as she dug through her purse. She then removed a small object and placed it in my hand. “It’s perfect, right?” she said laughingly as I saw it was a small, sterling silver charm, shaped like – a penis. “Get it?” she asked, as she noticed the rather confused look on my face. “Uh, yeah. That’s really, uh, funny,” I awkwardly replied. Autumn also quickly appeared to become confused and nervously asked, “Well, you’re gay, right?” What? Holy cow – stop the presses! Let’s take a moment to ponder this. I was doing such a good job of finally not being a pig, that “Barbies” now perceived me, Chris Long, “DJ Chris,” the womanizing “Dead Serios guy” as being gay! I absolutely had to laugh out loud. Autumn’s face immediately became bright red with embarrassment when I set the record straight regarding my spiritual awakening and my lack of advances towards her. Then we both enjoyed a good laugh.
I ran into Autumn a few weeks later at a local music event and she presented me with another gift. “This one is a little more appropriate,” she commented as she handed me an awesome-looking black ring featuring two fabulous silver
crosses. It certainly was more appropriate and I truly appreciated the thought. Autumn and I also continue to enjoy a fantastic friendship.
*******
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The Final Cut
I remained steadfast in my spiritual journey into 2011, including my commitment to personal daily Bible study. And by the spring, I had combed every word of the New Testament twice and I was now well into tackling the Old Testament. My weapon of choice in this endeavor continued to be my trusted NLT. This translation is so “alive” that biblical figures like Apostle Paul seemed physically to leap from the pages and hang out with me right there at Starbucks. I know – weird, right?
Smackdown!
With the promotional phase of my first book complete, I now could focus fully on the drastically different message of my second book. But not everyone was exactly supportive of my newfound mission – including (once again) a few of my spiritual teammates.
Eager to share advance excerpts and receive a professional critique, I reached out to an acknowledged insider in the Christian publishing world named Joe. But instead of offering me much-needed moral support and spiritual guidance, Joe conveyed his “disappointment” in my story. He further added (more or less) that I was a phony and that I wasn’t qualified to talk to anyone about Jesus. He even suggested that if I really wanted to honor God that I should shut up. Joe ended his email response by encouraging me to get deeper into The Word and surround myself with leaders from my church and that maybe, just maybe, at some point, I might actually have a Christ-filled story to tell.
In the past, I would have gotten angry over this lambasting – a stinging smackdown dealt from yet another Christian. But I didn’t get angry. In fact, I took Joe’s words as a personal challenge and I further stepped up my Bible study efforts. I also began serving by doing volunteer work at ECCC. Furthermore, I enrolled at East Coast Christian University. That’s right, at almost age fifty, I went back to school – Bible school! Although Joe clearly missed the point of this book, I have to admit that his advice was sound and I ultimately appreciated his input.
The Dream Police
I also was eager to share my recent revelations with friends who were seemingly on the other side of the spiritual fence. Note: there is a BIG difference between “sharing with” and “preaching at.”
I was hanging out with a longtime friend who was having difficulty understanding why I was reading and re-reading the Bible. “What’s the point if you’ve already read it once?” she asked, with a stupefied look on her face. But to me, the answer was simple. Once we disconnect ourselves from the inaccurate notion that the Bible is a condemning book of “Dos” and “Don’ts” and instead look at it perhaps as a marvelous work of art, the desire to remain focused on God’s Word starts to make more worldly sense.
One of my all-time favorite records is Cheap Trick’s 1979 classic, Dream Police. With its overall hard rock sound and intricate arrangements, married with layers and layers of production garnish, Dream Police is a work of art that says something new to me with each listen. Even after more than thirty years, that record always sounds fresh and the same can be said for the Bible. As I’ve mentioned previously, Christianity is not about religion – it’s about a personal connection. If we watch our favorite movies, listen t
o our favorite music and read our (other) favorite books time and time again because we connect with the message on a personal level, then why does it seem odd to have the same passion regarding the Bible? In short, it’s NOT odd!
Soundcheck
To me, one of the most appealing aspects of East Coast Christian Center is its powerful music ministry. Simply put, it rocks! Featuring electric guitars, drums and keyboards, the adult Praise and Worship program is led by singer/songwriter and multi-instrumentalist, Chris Johnson. With his trendy faux hawk coif and ultra-hip fashion sensibility, combined with his kind and compassionate demeanor, I immediately connected with Chris upon seeing and hearing him onstage during my very first visit to ECCC. I soon reached out to Chris on a personal level and before long we became good friends. In fact, my car was out of commission on one particular Sunday and Chris went out of his way to personally ensure that I could attend church and return home again – a two-hour trip that brought him initially to my doorstep at 5:30AM. Starbucks was definitely on me that day!
I had made it clear to Chris very early in our relationship that I was eager to become more involved at ECCC. I wasn’t interested in any high profile task, I merely wanted to serve. In fact, I even offered to scrub the church bathrooms with a toothbrush if that’s what needed to be done.
Chris ultimately mentioned my desire to serve to ECCC Youth Pastor Bryan Moore. Standing six-foot-eight, Bryan once played professional baseball for the Florida Marlins, and like Chris Johnson, he also exemplifies someone who is, in my mind, a model Christian. Bryan recognized my longtime experience working with live bands and in 2011 he invited me to assist with T-n-T, the church’s youth music program. I gleefully accepted Bryan’s offer and I soon began working a couple of days a week, setting up and organizing stage equipment prior to various worship services. And given my background as a drummer, I quickly became the unofficial personal tech for T-n-T’s drummer, DJ Cusmano.
ECCC Youth Pastor Bryan Moore stands six-foot-eight. Clearly, I do not.
(Photo: Michelle Wilson)
My unofficial role as tech for dummer DJ Cusmano has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my music biz career
(Photo: Bliss Katherine)
After years’ worth of unfulfilling and often traumatic experiences working directly with musicians on a local and national level, my involvement with T-n-T and DJ in particular was an altogether different proposition. Instead of being motivated by my own burning desire for fame and fortune, my efforts now were fueled by a new passion simply to serve God. I was different. The environment was different. The people with whom I was working were different. And the results were different too. Rather than meeting with the typical arrogant, puffed-up, egomaniacal rock star wrath, my efforts now met with praise and kindness. “This guy is the best thing that’s ever happened to T-n-T,” DJ bragged to Bryan Moore one afternoon as I successfully fixed and tuned his snare drum.
But working with the T-n-T group also proved to be a rather humbling experience. These kids had no clue who I was and they couldn’t have cared less. At first, I think that they merely perceived me as some creepy old guy who was all of a sudden hanging around for no apparent reason. And I had to laugh when DJ inquired if I ever had any previous experience with bands, as I assembled his kit perfectly on the first attempt. “Uh, I’ve dabbled with bands a little over the years,” I replied.
And FYI, you know that you’ve really gotten old when the musicians with whom you are working no longer “get” Spinal Tap references!
Truth Junkie
I was no longer the same guy I had been just a year earlier and I realized that I literally needed to clean house. As a result, I had no desire to be surrounded by memorabilia in my home that glorified rock stars who clearly preached a message to which I no longer subscribed. And soon, I was unloading all sorts of rare, autographed and limited edition rock-related collectibles – for the most part, via eBay. But many of these items I either gave away or sometimes just threw out with the trash. And I could now breathe easier just by not having that stuff in my house any longer. In the words of Tal & Acacia, it was “time to leave the junk behind.” But I certainly hadn’t gone “Falwell” and I still wanted to maintain my unique, personal edge…
I went to Trish’s to see Jesse one night in 2011. As I entered her house, I was taken aback to discover that one of the local kids was running an unlicensed tattoo operation and was performing covert services in Trish’s garage. And although I briefly tried to play “responsible parent,” I had to laugh out loud upon noticing a teenager from the neighborhood who was lying face-down on the garage floor with his pants down around his knees, having his butt tattooed! Yikes – some things just can’t be unseen!
I could have freaked out and raised a big stink about these shenanigans, but standing there with several tattoos of my own, I couldn’t effectively play spoiler. And I quickly recognized that the caliber of this artist’s work was pretty darn good, so I took the “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” approach. I rolled up my sleeve and got in line. But in contrast to my now infamous Bret Michaels autograph tattoo, my fresh ink would represent a different message. It simply read, “Truth Junkie.”
The Show Must Go On
I continue to be involved in the entertainment industry. From creating music to being onstage to writing feature stories and reviews, show biz is what I do. Through my involvement with Ink19 I’m attending and ultimately writing about more live rock shows than ever, although now I’m observing and writing from a different perspective. Not so much from a “preachy” point of view, but as more of a consumer advocate.
I recently had been sent to Miami to cover a multi-band heavy metal revival concert featuring live performances by old school kingpins, Anthrax, Megadeth and Slayer. Although this type of event certainly was once my thing, I now felt like the odd man out as I was surrounded by seemingly angry hard core fans, guzzling countless cups of $10 beer and enduring showers of graphic language from the stage and audience. And instead of fighting my way to the front row, I was just content to take in the experience from the comfort of a twentieth row seat.
At one point during Megadeth’s set, I noticed a guy in the row in front of me inching his way to the aisle. Donning a sleeveless black T-shirt promoting a local strip club and with a lighter in one hand and a cup-o-suds in the other, this fellow cheered with delight as he attempted to get a closer vantage point. But before he could get terribly far, he passed out. In fact, he hit the ground so hard that even over the blasting music I could hear the resounding crack of his face meeting the concrete. Immediately, paramedics from the venue rushed to his aide. They quickly removed him from the pool of spilled beer mixed with sweat and puke, placed him on a stretcher and took him away. I doubt this is what he had in mind that morning when envisioning the awesome rock and roll party he was to enjoy that night.
Not long after this particular Miami concert, I traveled to Orlando to cover another multi-band cavalcade, headlined by the modern-day arena rock combo, Buckcherry. Given that the tour was sponsored by the makers of a popular adult elixir, fans at this event were bludgeoned with a very specific message – a message so obnoxious, so over-the-top and (in my mind) so darn wrong, that I had to share this apparently unique point of view with my readers.
…this event was blatantly less of a concert and more of a shameless three-hour commercial. Images of the product and its infamous logo flashed across the walls and ceiling of the venue all night long and each of the three bands devoted significant amounts of their set time to sucking up to "the man." Be sure I understand that bands don't sell records anymore and they've gotta cover their "nut" somehow these days in order to survive. I also understand that the product is the current adult beverage of choice among today's ultra hip in-crowd and it is the tour's official corporate sponsor, but c'mon. And for this, fans PAID $50 per ticket! Shouldn't infomercials be free? (Christopher Long – Ink 19, March 2011)
But the dark message being deli
vered from the stage by the bands on this night went well beyond mere product pimping…
Unfortunately, for me, the fun factor of Buckcherry’s well-crafted, high octane music was somewhat compromised by frontman Josh Todd's over-the-top, lowbrow banter. During the breakdown section of their 1999 hit "Lit Up," Todd successfully encouraged his flock to join in with him – chanting, "Cocaine! Cocaine! Cocaine! Cocaine! Cocaine!" Alright, alright – I get it, dude! I know what the song is about.(Christopher Long – Ink 19, March 2011)
As was the case with my similar experience in Miami, I not only witnessed one stretcher incident in Orlando, I saw people being carried out three times! And what a sad commentary – watching people falling, one by one – victims of the false, good-time promise of rock and roll.
I received a Facebook message in 2011 from a “Friend” who had taken note of the tone of some of my recent articles and she inquired why I now suddenly “hated rock and roll.” I found her assessment to be quite hilarious. Be sure that I certainly don’t hate rock and roll. I’m merely suggesting that fans who shell out exorbitant amounts of hard-earned cash to support their favorite rockers deserve a bit more for their money than lowbrow banter, F-bomb showers and alcohol advertisements.
Suppose a prophet full of lies would say to you,
“I’ll preach to you the joys of wine and alcohol!”
That’s just the kind of prophet you would like!
Micah 2:11 (NLT)
Sixx, Sixx, Sixx
In the summer of 2011 I made a two-hundred mile, round-trip journey to cover the highly anticipated Tampa date of the triple-threat national hair band tour featuring Mötley Crüe, Poison and New York Dolls. Given the recent hoo-ha I had experienced regarding my first book, I doubted that I would ever see Poison perform live again. And to be honest, I reasoned that it might be best for me to sit this one out. However, on the night before the show, I received an email from my Ink 19 editor, Jen Cray, offering me one last chance to change my mind. “Oh, what the heck,” I told her. “Let’s do it!” After all, my press credentials would be issued through the venue’s management office, so I could sneak into the arena in stealth-like fashion and cover the show without any band organizations being aware of my presence.
C’MON! – My Story of Rock, Ruin and Revelation Page 15