My Big Break?

Saturday I filmed my first commercial. It was a viral video for IROCKE (irocke.com), and believe me, it's going to be radical. It was my first experience with a green screen and we filmed for almost 7 hours. My character was a crazy raver girl with blue hair and a Hello Kitty beanie. I said a lot of brilliant things, but the best line: "put some bass in my face."

I was a natural.

I'm super stoked to see this final project. There's a celeb cameo and some sweet dance moves involved. What's not to love? But I'm more excited about what IROCKE is going to do for the music industry. If you haven't heard about it, you will. The concept is pretty fucking amazing. It's one website where you can see any live show in the entire world. You can search different genres of music and get alerts for when your favorite artists are about to go on stage. One click and then "Bam" you're right there. Watching. Lingering. Lurking. Raging. As if you were front row at the show.

It's probably going to change the world. Waaaaait for it.

Seriously though, If I were you, I'd get my autograph while you still can. Once this commercial thing goes big-time, I might be too "Hollywood" to hang at the Saint Rocke shows anymore. But for now, I'll be around. If you want to reach me this weekend, on Saturday, I'll be stalking ROME.

Party.

KT

Sexy Jesus

I f*cking love Halloween. I love everything about it. The parties, the costumes, the candy. The fact that you don't have to buy presents for anyone, and it's an excuse for people to get wasted and girls to dress extra slutty. (There's rumors of a "Sexy Jesus" coming out to Saint Rocke this year. Whoa. That's some next level shit.) 

I also love how everyone in Hermosa celebrates Halloween for the weekend before Halloween AND on actual Halloween. That's three times the craziness!

Friday, we have the best Johnny Cash tribute in town. They look the part, act the part, and they play forever. The opener for this act is "Clownvis Presley"...I can't explain how RAD this guy is. You have to see it to believe it.

On Saturday, we have our second annual Halloween Rager with Hoist The Colors. These loveable irish punkers will stop at nothing to keep you folks entertained. I won't give away their costume idea, but trust me: it's amazing.

On actual Halloween, we have some of the heaviest hard rockers in town from the band Eyelash Factory. They are teaming up with local metalheads and giving us: Hard Rocke Halloween: a show so bitchin: it's scary.

I don't know about you, but I'm ready to rage my face off. 

Grab tix now while you still can...If you dare: www.saintrocke.com 

Muuuhahahahahahahahaha  maniacal laugh maniacal laugh

KT

The Loops

I'll never forget when I saw Mitch Hedberg's standup comedy LIVE at the Wiltern 7 years ago (R.I.P.) Everyone kept finishing his jokes out loud, and eventually, he got irritated and said, "Damn, I need some new material." So he walked over to a spiral notebook and started reading through it. Totally ignoring the audience. He smoked a pipe, drank a cocktail...after a few (long) minutes, he returned to the microphone.

"The Belt, or the Belt Loops....Who's the real hero? (we were silent) Take THAT motherf*ckers."

Whoa. Not only did I laugh, but my mind was blown. I did take that, Mitch. In fact, I take it everywhere I go.

In life, there are Belts and there are belt Loops.

The "belts" always make their appearance known. When you attend a big event, there's always a select few belts in the spotlight. The red carpet celebs. The high profile athletes. The f*cking Kardashians, everywhere you turn.

The belts are easy to identify in my line of work, too. They're on the stage, getting the screams and applause. They're in the greenroom, when everyone is trying to take pictures or grab an autograph. The belts are the ones people pay to see. The belts are the stars.

But where would they be without the "Loops"?

The Loops are the stage crew: showing up early, lugging equipment, setting up/breaking down, and dealing with bullshit of epic proportions.

The Loops are the sound engineers: making anyone sound better than they actually do.

The Loops are the lighting guy: forcing you dance more than you ever thought possible.

The Loops are the bartenders, servers, security, and hostesses who make sure everything is perfect for the belt and the belt fans.

The Loops are the bookers, the managers, the planners, the list-makers.

The Loops are the behind-the-scenes brains of the whole operation.

Without Loops, the belts would just hang around, without any attention, unable to perform. Without Loops, the belt would never get the credit it deserves.

So when you're at Saint Rocke this weekend, dancing your ass off to Mansions on the Moon, or seeing the legendary Leon Russell, please acknowledge The Loops.

Buy the sound men a shot. Shake the manager's hand. Tip your servers and bartenders well. Give the hostess a smile as you leave.

If you enjoy your time here: TELL A LOOP! The Loops don't do their looping to get rich and famous! They do it for the sole feeling of knowing fans appreciate it.

Your great time is the one thing that Loops care about most.

So the answer to you Mr. Hedberg, is: The Loops. They're the real hero.


KT

The Days of Our Lives

Last week at our booking meeting, as we were tossing around brilliant ideas about upcoming shows, I mentioned I wanted to throw an "End of The World Party" on December 21.  I have a few local bands that are interested, and it would be an all-out crazy rage fest.

"Do anything and everything you want to do. Go out with a bang."
This sparked some lengthy discussion. Some of my team members were enthusiastic. Others cringed, (with good reason, I guess). It's not an easy topic to wrap your brain around:

"We're celebrating the Apocalypse, now?" "How do you possibly decide what band you want to hear on the last day of your life?" "I bet a ton of people would leave their tabs open. hahaha."

A LOT of tough decisions go into planning the last show ever, and needless to say, we didn't come to any concrete conclusions that day.

But the topic stayed on my mind for a while, and it inspired me.

Why wait until Dec 21 to live like it's your last day alive? Why not go out with a bang EVERY chance you can! Do the things you always want to do. Travel to the cities that interest you the most. Spend time with the people you love. Find the job you are passionate about. Spend the money you are saving for the proverbial 'rainy day'.

And for crying out LOUD: have some FUN. When the weekend rolls around, you have a choice. You can stay home and watch reruns on cable TV...(How many episodes of Friends are there??) or you can go Rocke out to an epic show right here in Hermosa Beach.

Friday we are throwing a wild DISCO party, Saturday, we have an amazing JOURNEY tribute, and Sunday, we have ROBBY KREIGER of The Doors. (THE f*cking DOORS, dude!!)

If the world ends suddenly, I want to be singing "Don't Stop Believing" at the top of my lungs, and throwing back shots of Fireball Whisky.

These are the Days of Our Lives. Go live a little.

The G Word

So I met a young gentleman the other night at a late-night dance party. (Fine...it was a rave. Sue me.) He seemed like a cool dude, and not terrible looking. So, of course, I started babbling. And when the conversation turned to music, I was all in. (Truth be told, I can talk about music for hours, to anyone. So I had a lot to say. And there's no "off switch.")

Anywho, I was chatting him up about the band playing at Saint Rocke this Friday: PARTICLE. "They are effing rad. Electronic, jammy, psychadelic light show, 3 hour set...They are the real deal, and I am ridiculously stoked!!"

The gentleman seemed somewhat interested, but then he laughed and asked, "Who are you, their GROUPIE?"

I stopped and stared blankly, like I was just punched in the face...."Huh?"

To add insult to injury, he went on a tangent to explain to me what a "Groupie" was. In detail. For about 20 minutes. As though I've never heard that term before. Wow.
I let him finish his rant about the Penny Lanes of the world who follow bands around like lost puppies....

And then I stepped on my soap box and really let him have it. Firing an arsenal of verbal bullets, left and right.

"For a female who has been in the music industry for 11 years, booking, marketing, and managing bands, and now a music venue, I take serious offense to that word. It sets women back decades. The fact I'm telling you about an awesome band, means simply: they're awesome. You should give them a listen. It does not imply that I follow them around and make out with them after the show. I make sure the show goes well because that's my job. I'm proud of what I do. And I'm proud to be a woman who rocks."

He was stunned silent. So, naturally, I kept going.

 I started listing famous women musicians of the world. One of whom is playing at Saint Rocke on WEDNESDAY NIGHT: Lita Ford. She's one baddass chica. (tix and info: saintrocke.com.) I was naming the women I idolize. The women who paved the way for all females struggling to make their way in a male dominated industry.

"You should probably just remove that from your vocabulary altogether. If not, I can personally guarantee that you will never get my phone number. And you'll never see me again. In short: I'd rather be called the C Word...than the G Word."

I was on a roll.

Once his tail was sufficiently between his legs, I shut up. He apologized. And he seemed sincere.

I gave him my number. And I might even let him take me out sometime...but not during Particle. There's no way in HELL I'm missing that show.

KT