Patrick Capone Official Website Bio Page

Bob Rock Sells Publishing Rights For Over 40 Tracks Including Metallica

January 22, 2021 by mrcapone

By Pat Capone, Patrick CaponeJan 21, 2021

Sell! Sell! Sell!
It’s been a crazy year with dozens of high profile individuals in the music industry cashing in their publishing rights for immediate liquidity, and legendary producer Bob Rock is the latest to jump on the bandwagon. Mr. Rock has reportedly sold the rights to over 40 of his songs, including his rights in Metallica’s Black Album.

“The breadth of Bob Rock’s enormous successes are almost impossible to match by any creator in the history of music,” said Hipgnosis Songs Founder Merck Mercuriadis, who had previously been the manager for high profile artists Elton John and Beyoncé.

Bob is not the first music business big shot to jump on the Hipgnosis band wagon. Just this month the Hipgnosis Song Fund announced lucrative deals with Shakira and Neil Young.

Unlike many of the other recent deals, Bob Rock’s end on the sell out was not disclosed.. But I’ll bet it wasn’t cheap.

If streaming is such a dead end for artists, why is Hipgnosis buying up all of these artists publishing rights?
That is a seriously good strategy question that only the founder Merck Mercuriadis could answer, but my gut tells me it has to do with the numbers. While one artist might not be able to make a living off of the pitiful amount they make from the streams of even a hit song, if you add all of these artists together you have a different figure. This seems to be a bet on the long term opportunity. For example, Metallica’s self titled Black Album has been streamed over 1 Billion times alone.

So how is it working out?

Well, Hipgnosis Song Fund was recently listed on the London Stock Exchange, so we do have some numbers. It looks like they are in the black for about $25 million from last year, even with all of these recent acquisitions.

Personally, I can’t help but question why all of these high profile artists are suddenly willing to sell off the only thing that brings them in cash. My grandfather would quote the old “bird in the hand..” phrase right about now, and maybe he would be correct, but I am just not sure I buy into it. Something is up. It’s like a fire sale all of a sudden, with every artist and producer willing to pull a move like a guy trying to cash in on a lawsuit settlement with JG Wentworth. Something seems odd here to me.

In case you were wondering how much artists make per stream, the average on Spotify is between $0.00331 and $0.00437 per stream. Now, imagine splitting that miniscule amount up between all of the band members, producer, other songwriters, and record company.. as well as anybody else that might have been promised a piece of the action.

For those not great at decimals and percentages, it takes about 1000 streams for an artists, who owns all of his own publishing rights alone, to make 3 cents. As you can see, it is not lucrative. For example, a living wage is considered between $45,000 and $55,000 a year depending on where you live.. at that rate, to just barely make a living wage, you would need to stream about 750,000 times every month. Maybe, gramps was right about the “bird in the hand”.

Correct Thumb Position While Playing Guitar

December 29, 2020 by mrcapone

Uncategorized

The rule book says the thumb of our fretting hand should always drop to the back of the guitar neck, but you see the thumb of accomplished players like Scott Henderson always wrapped around the neck.
Agoro M.

While there are many advantages to using the correct and somewhat formal thumb position behind the neck while playing, especially making good technique a habit when just learning, as you have noticed a large percentage of players simply do not do it and obviously still play very well their whole lives. Sometimes there are even cool tricks you can do with your thumb when it overlaps onto the fretboard. But… There are definitely some worthy advantages when it comes to incorporating as many best practices into your thumb and hand positioning as you can for your personal style.

With that said, I know several older players who now have very serious issues and complications as the result of a lifetime of very poor thumb and hand position. This is mostly do to the extreme angle of the wrist and the tendons moving within. For some players, as a result of wrapping their thumb over the neck, their wrist is now positioned in close to a 90 degree angle. Much in the way it would be if you did a push up. While it doesn’t happen to all players, as you age, this wrist angle can cause long term issues much like carpal tunnel; including but not limited to pain, numbness, tingling, weakness, unable to play for long periods, etc. It can become very frustrating for them trying to relearn playing with a straight wrist in their later years since the habit is so entrenched in their style.

While you will hear a lot of “whatever works for you” which is absolutely correct, be aware that there is nothing more frustrating to an older guitarist who loves to play his instrument than having to put it down after only a few minutes do to pain. Putting some thought into your grip and technique now can help you further down the road.

While it is probably not necessary to keep your thumb locked behind the neck in proper classical positioning like the great Andrés Segovia, with your fingers straight and your guitar positioned accordingly, there are still some considerations you may wish to incorporate into your own style.

So.. My humble advice, regardless of where your thumb finds its home behind or over the neck is:

Keep your wrist as straight as possible. Your thumb positioning can help with this, as can the height of your guitar when playing. When holding your guitar, take a look at your wrist and adjust your grip and guitar strap as needed to prevent it from being bent in a “push up” position. A straighter wrist allows for more freedom of the tendons to move and a more efficient and speedy playing style.. plus it can help prevent carpal tunnel symptoms further down the road.
Try and learn to play with the least amount of finger pressure possible to achieve solid tone. Sometimes we don’t even notice how hard we are squeezing the neck as we try to play tricky chords or scales. If you are squeezing so hard your finger and thumb tips are changing color, you are squeezing too hard. The trick is to try and release pressure as much as possible while still allowing the string to make solid contact with the fret and not loose tone. Less is more.
Keep the source of pressure contact on the back of the neck, thumb or palm, centered behind your playing. It is easy, especially when we move positions up and down the neck, to not keep our pressure point centered behind the playing area. I have caught myself doing this many times. The hand might move, but the thumb stays over to the side, much like you would hold a fishing rod. This causes you to use much more force than needed if your thumb was correctly positioned to support your playing.
Keep your fingers as straight as possible. Moving your thumb down to be centered on the back of the neck with your elbow low will allow you to flatten your fingers. There are many advantages to this, especially for easy bar chords, extended fingerings, and arpeggios and sweep picking. Blues players, and rock players tend to curl their fingers with the thumb flopping over the top of the neck, then by twisting their wrist do bends and vibrato. This works great, as seen by many famous guitarists over the years. But the same result can be achieved with flatter fingers as well. It is all about what works best for your style of playing. Try it.

The bottom line is that it is not necessary to follow the classical approach of having your thumb directly centered behind the neck in order to play the guitar well, however there are many long term benefits that can be achieved by applying some smart techniques into your style. Bad habits can not only make it more difficult to play, they can definitely lead to long term problems that can be devastating to devoted players in their later years. Be conscious of your hand and thumb positioning, apply what you can for your particular style of playing, and remember that you alone are the only one who can choose to do.. or not… what is in the best interest of your long term playing goals.

Music is a Gift

December 2, 2020 by mrcapone

Guitar, Tips

Guitar, music, Question, Tips

Question: Since you have been playing for a very long time.. How have your guitar goals and musical perception changed over time?

Here’s some advice from my long musical journey…

Eventually you must learn to leave all the scales and theory behind, all the boxes and shapes, patterns and exercises, lessons and tips, understand that these things simply provided a map through the forest at a time when you did not trust yourself to find the way. Learn how to simply let your mind tell your own pure musical story through your instrument. Eventually, you must learn to speak on your own, just like you did as a child, and KNOW that the words you are saying not only make sense, but communicate your story in a colorful and engaging way… naturally.

also.. one more piece of advice that I feel MANY musicians, especially guitarists, fail to understand.

Be cautious of falling in to the all too common trap of using your musical skills as a way to achieve notoriety, status, praise, acceptance, riches, or fame. These ugly motivations will always show through your playing, like a stain, limiting your growth and expression. Even the most passive listener will instinctively, almost subconsciously, hear these impure motivations and the completely opposite effect will often be the result. Just like a drug, this can cause a vicious circle, since you can often achieve some of those regardless of your true talent. Instead, think of your music and skill as a way to give, as a gift, freely, instead of a way to receive. Your honorable gift is often returned 3 fold, although that too should never be the motivation.. just a wonderful bonus.

You Are Being Manipulated

November 26, 2020 by mrcapone

Professor Capone

Manipulation, Social Media, The Media, Viral

This is a photo of a guitarist playing music for his friends. Nothing more.

I just wanted you to finally see a post on your feed today that wasn’t created by people whose political and financial agenda’s want you to feel anger, hate, scared, mad, outraged, worried, depressed and polarized.

The shock value of the content that you are viewing on your TV news, radio, and social media right now is designed by its very nature to be viral. It causes an emotional reaction that demands for you to respond, for or against, it doesn’t matter, and thus propagate that negative energy even further into our world. Viral.

Every time you feel compelled to share a violent video or argue on a post, forward a meme you saw with alleged “facts”, or threaten to revoke your online friendship, they have succeeded in manipulating your feelings for their own benefit.

Every single new post, comment, and page view is more advertising dollars into the social media company’s bank account. With every video view the ratings increase and the agenda moves forward. Cha-ching. Cha-ching.

Emotions are as fundamental to our biology as breathing or eating, which is why they are a very powerful tool often targeted by those with ill will who seek to advance their own agendas. Usually, the nicer, smarter and more kind that you are, the more powerful the urge is for you to respond.. to do.. something. To share this outrageousness. To warn others. To help. With the best of intentions, you respond. That’s the way it works.

You, your family, and friends, are all purposely and deliberately being distracted from living your own life in peace and harmony so that some company and their shareholders, or political party’s agenda, can all move forward. Just look at the content of your feed today. Is it kind? Is it helpful? Is it really what you want to see? Is it providing any benefit? Or, does it promote hate, confusion, and even violence?

To go against your own biology is one of the hardest things to do. Ask anyone who’s been on a diet. Yet, that is the answer, and it requires strength and a great deal of consideration and thought.

You and I have the power to combat this evil, because that is what it is.. it is evil..and we can start today.

Post something positive… anything.. a cute picture of your dog and why you love him. Say something kind, even when it may be hard to do so. Spread love and kindness even in the darkest of places. Nothing stops the viral movement of shock, hate, and evil like some well intended acts of love and kindness.

It is time to turn this all around. It is time for you and I to take the offensive. Let’s show these bastards that we have had enough and hit them broadside with the full power of our own agenda.. It is time to share the message of peace, love, understanding and kindness.

Be Cool

Take Care Of Your Brothers And Sisters

and Rock On Forever

Veteran’s Day

November 11, 2020 by mrcapone

Blog Post

veterans day

The greatest and most precious resource this great nation has… more than all the oil, tech, and incredible architecture… are the extremely brave and selfless men and women who have chosen to serve in our armed forces. I believe a great many of our so called politicians could learn a great deal about what it truly means to serve our country from your example.. and while today is a day wisely set aside specifically to show our appreciation for the dedication and service you have provided, know that I, along with all of my brothers and sisters, stand in awe and gratitude of your hard work and commitment.. and give a hearty and profound thanks for you.. today… and every day.

Thank You! Thank You Very Much!

Ronnie James Dio – Fallen Brethren

October 26, 2020 by mrcapone

Rock Story

Black Sabbath, Chicago, Concert, DIO, Heaven & Hell, Northerly Island, Patrick Capone, Rock Radio, WLUP

by Patrick Capone

Originally Published in ViaOmega Magazine November 2017

It was an unusually cool August summer night alongside the Chicago lake shore as I swung the chrome kickstand down on my Harley Davidson Fatboy and began the walk to what would be my last meeting with the incredible Ronnie James Dio. A powerful storm front had moved through the area earlier in the day, and considering the vulnerable location of the Northerly Island concert venue, many thought this show would never happen. My boots smacked against the standing water on the sidewalk as I looked up at the large banner over the main gate “Dio, Iommi, Butler, Appice.. Heaven & Hell” O fuck Yeah… I live for this!

WLUP The LOOP main office and broadcast studio located in the Merchandise Mart.

As usual, the corporate radio bastards that I worked for at the time had sent me as their ambassador. The suits hadn’t set foot inside a real metal concert in decades and they certainly weren’t going to show up tonight. Good. The last thing we needed was a bunch of executives in pressed white shirts getting drunk in their secluded VIP area, pulling me from one client to another, all while telling stories about their frat days in Michigan. No sir, not tonight. This show was for true fans of the music. I had gladly accepted the assignment, slipped the complimentary front row tickets inside the breast pocket of my leather jacket with a grin, and assured them I would take care of everything. One of the younger execs who looked like Mr. Bean said “Tight!” and held out his hand for an awkward fist bump. I pretended to ignore it as I walked out of the office. Dorks.

The mission was simple. I was to watch masters of their craft perform songs from some of the most iconic metal albums of all time.. Right in front of my face.. And then, 20 minutes before the end, slip out to a special side gate to meet up with the LiveNation representative and chaperone a couple dozen extremely excited contest winners to a meet and greet with the band.

It was clear from the fully packed stands and the roar of the massive crowd that nobody was going to miss tonight’s concert. Tony came walking out in front of his wall of Laney amplifiers as Geezer hammered thunder out of his bass rig.. But it was when Ronnie darted across to the front of the stage, throwing his hand high in the air, and with classic Dio style and precision he screamed an unearthly “COME ON!” that seemed to echo clear across lake Michigan and into infinity. Now that’s a FUCKING METAL SHOW!

For the next hour and a half I was once again mesmerized by the incredible vocal power and range that Dio unleashed on the willing audience. Looking straight up at the stage, it is easy to forget that he only stood a petite 5 feet 4 inches. But that voice, a rich articulate baritone that could slide up and down the octaves with ease while still pulling a growl that sounded straight from the abyss. Impressive. Hell Yes! So impressive I almost lost track of time, and with a quick juke to the isle I was off to randevu for the meet and greet.

As I arrived at the specified side gate, several very excited fans were already waiting in anticipation. More were walking up, all smiles, patting each other on the back. We could hear the echo of Neon Nights bouncing off the stands, and in between selfies and hand shakes I was glancing over the corner trying to let my eyes grab a last look at this amazing performance. Damn, they so sounded good.

The LiveNation representative showed up in their usual caffeine induced panic, juggling a cell phone and clipboard and not really focusing on anything. “Thank God you’re here! I know you got this. When the manager opens the gate, can you escort them all backstage? You’re the best. I have to go”. She handed me a bunch of VIP passes and ran off to some other emergency.

Our backstage winner’s quickly huddled around me like well behaved school children ready to go on their first outside field trip. They hadn’t understood a word she said and I think they were worried it was cancelled. You would have thought I was giving them all puppies as they each received their purple VIP sticker and proudly stuck it on their shirts. I felt a bit like Wonka outside the chocolate factory ready to start the tour.

“You are all in luck today”, I said with a big smile and pointed to the fence. “In a few seconds this gate will slide open and we are going to take a short walk backstage to meet the band. Remember that we are their guests and it is extremely generous of them to take the time to see you after they just performed a show. As you will shortly see, you are about to meet some of the coolest, nicest, and most polite people in rock and roll. Please be aware, that Tony has been suffering with some seriously painful problems with his right hand, so it would be nice if you offered your left hand to shake instead.”

The chain link gate suddenly slid open with a noisy clatter and a grizzled band manager in a t-shirt 1 size too small exclaimed “Ah, Mr. Capone!.. Are these all yours?… Follow me and don’t touch anything.”

The dark backstage area was abuzz with roadies everywhere. These are the true hero’s of rock and roll, the first on the scene, the last to drive away when it’s over. This was their game time and they were straight to business like a well oiled machine. Most barely looked up to give us a glance as they pushed ridiculously large rolling cases across the pavement to the waiting semi trucks.

Upon arriving at the large white rental party tent I was surprised to see that the band was already waiting for us. Several folding tables were lined up next to each other with Vinny and Geezer sitting behind them like kids ready to eat dinner, each holding a black Sharpie like it was a fork. Tony was standing behind the tables gripping his right hand chest high like an injured dog. How the man performed a whole show like that is unbelievable. Ronnie was on the far left with a plush white towel around his neck. He had chosen to move in front of the tables so that he could be closer to the fans who were lined up in a long single file.

Over the next hour, I stood off to the side smiling as I watched Ronnie James Dio take the time to talk with every single person. He would look everyone in the eye, intently listening to what they had to say. He would graciously thank them for their kind comments, even though he had heard the same thing twenty times already that day. It was never a problem to take a picture, or sign an item. A hug? You bet! He was glad to do it. This was the DIO I knew and loved.

The scruffy manager stood by me, “aren’t you going to get in line? I know the guys would like to thank you.”

“O no, it’s OK. This is for them.” I pointed to the winners. “I get to do this stuff all the time. Thanks for setting it all up. The boys have made a lot of people very happy tonight.”

It’s true, in all my years in this crazy business I don’t get autographs, or take that many photo’s with the artists that I meet . That’s just not my style really.

As the last person finished, the assistants offered to take the winners out the back gate for me. Geezer and Vinny stood up and stretched a bit. The tent was now mostly empty.

“Look, I know the guys want to say thanks. It will only take a minute” insisted the manager.

Tony was close, so I offered my left hand for a shake, he was surprised and said thank you. I told him that I couldn’t believe he played so well with the hand like that. When are you going to get the surgery? We talked about our Rottweilers, Laney amps, and old guitars… as two old guitar players will do.

Ronnie came walking up to us. He always seems so frail and small. Where does that voice come from? He wanted to thank me for all that the station had done to to help promote the show and the band. I talked about how well the sound system was that night, and how great the vocals cut through the mix. How was Wendy? Just a couple of long haired guys talking a bit of shop and family without any agenda.

“Well, I better get going”, I said. “I’ve got a long ride on the bike back home tonight and the dogs are probably wondering where I am. I’ll see you the next time you’re in town. Thanks for another great show!”

Ronnie gave me a genuine firm hug and said “No, Thank You!”

Ronnie James Dio Statue Kavarna Bulgaria

Only a month or so later, Ronnie was diagnosed with stomach cancer. Like most men he hadn’t gone in for regular doctor visits. On the 16th of May he died, and the world lost not only one of the greatest voices in rock and roll, but one of the coolest most genuinely sweet people I have ever met. I miss him.

But you know, you and I are lucky. You see, we are part of a very special tribe. Because when you scrape off all the corporations and sales people, the contracts and bureaucracy, the money and the merchandise, what’s left is the real marrow of rock and roll.. The artists and the fans. The tribe. Our tribe.

And our tribe is unique my brothers and sisters.. For we have wizards. These wonderful artists who have learned how to manipulate harmonic frequencies in such a way that they can cause physical and emotional effects on those who choose to listen. Amazing! But what’s even more amazing is that these wizards have mastered the ability to lay down a timeless imprint of themselves, thus creating a true immortal snapshot with all the magic still intact. No other tribe has this gift. Immortality.

You and I can put on an old Metallica vinyl and visit with our brother Cliff and revel in his aggressive bass style, and he is there in the room with us once again. A young guitarist today will hear Randy Rhoads for the first time, and will try as best he can to emulate that crazy classical metal hybrid sound into his own guitar playing, and Randy is with him at that moment, and now truly even a part of him.

These wizards, these fallen brethren, have all left us a piece of themselves that we can revisit anytime we wish. Or like the young guitarist, to learn from, and absorb into our own artistic style and creations. What an amazing gift we have.

I often look back at my last meeting with Ronnie James Dio and wish I would have talked to him more that night, or maybe even held that hug just a little longer. I wish I would have told him how much we all appreciated and admired his work. But you know, even after all that, I don’t think anything would have changed. Even after all that, I’ll bet he would have done the same.. And gave me a big hug and said “No, Thank You!”

So, today I will grab a stack of righteous vinyl to bring into my rock radio show. I’ll jump on my Harley Davidson Fatboy and take that ride out to the small cinder block broadcast studio in the middle of an Illinois cornfield. I will play DIO, and Cliff, and Randy, and Mr. Bonham, and share their stories and magic… and perhaps you and I can take some comfort in knowing that radio frequency signal of mine will continue through the atmosphere carrying their work into space, where it will travel forever and ever. Immortal.

This is the original photograph from 1928 of students taking a break from a pageant, that inspired the painting by painting by Lynn Curlee, that was used as the album cover for Black Sabbath’s Heaven & Hell.

Van Halen Diver Down and Sony Walkman WM-1

Van Halen Diver Down Walkman Story

October 7, 2020 by mrcapone

Rock Story, Van Halen

I have a thousand memories with Eddie Van Halen’s music playing in the background. This is just one.

I was super excited as I walked into Woodfield mall to make my biggest purchase ever, a brand new Sony Walkman and the latest, coolest, greatest, Van Halen album – Diver Down.

Back in 1982, I was making $3.35/hour busing tables at the Barrington Hills Country Club. Tips weren’t allowed. The members had made sure to pass that rule. Like most gigs in life, it had it’s cool parts. The chef always made the wait staff amazing dinners before the shift started… and the place was riddled with secret rooms, hidden behind trick doors, like the linen closet.. where members would sneak off to drink and play cards back during prohibition. Long forgotten rooms in pristine original condition. A perfect place for the underage wait staff to have a couple of covert beers after cleanup.

To raise the money, I made sacrifices. Concert tickets to lesser bands were denied. Bootleg beer runs to Wisconsin, minimized. Kinda. I had to save up about $135. It seemed like a small fortune. I wanted to buy a new guitar amp.. Well, I needed to buy one is probably more accurate.. but the idea of being able to walk around anywhere while listening to a cassette tape of my favorite guitarist up at full volume just seemed like too cool an idea to pass up. It would be worth the money.

Into the mall. Weird echoes of background music mixed with the sound of people’s voices, fountains, and the squeak of gym shoes on the tile floors. I walked past Orange Julius. Why does it always smell like pretzels over here? Oh yeah, Annies.. Can’t get one, need to save the coin. I walked past the Merry Go Round store who had a nice new display of the latest parachute pants and zippered jackets. I liked the British flag tank top, I might have to try and pick that up if I have any change left.

A quick look left and I could see a couple of girls hanging out by the 3 story spiral brick staircase. Their hair was perfect. On the 2nd floor, ACDC was blaring out of The Alley, a legendary headshop where all the cool kids in concert shirts and hiking boots hung out. Inside you could see acrylic bongs of all sizes and colors, with cigarettes oddly stuck in all of the bowls.

I always liked to swing by the main fountains in the middle. It was cool to go inside the tunnel beneath the fountain and check out the fish tanks. It was dark, and peaceful, and played this crazy new age synthesizer music on a loop. The music was titled “Fish Music” by an artist named Suzanne Ciani https://youtu.be/ZSKVH4EcgTc

Out of the tunnel and I find myself now staring at The Gap. A sign in the door says they have Levi’s 501 jeans for only $19.99. There’s a strong smell of Mcdonald’s hamburgers and french fry oil drifting down from the 2nd floor. The Ice Rink next door is offering daily lessons. Potential skaters were encouraged to contact the rink’s manager, Bill Krzyston. OK, I need to stop screwing around.

I walked into Camelot Music. The floor carpeting was like the color of lava. Bright. Red. Loud. Ah, the mall. I’m checking out the Sony Walkmans by the counter when a dude in a white shirt and black tie makes the usual sales guy appearance. I flash the advertisement I ripped out of the newspaper. They beat Schaak Electronics by $5 and offered an additional discount on the purchase of a new tape. He pulled the demo out from behind the counter. It looked like a large grey brick with bold blue print on it that proclaimed it was the Sony Stereo Walkman WM-1. It was in stock. Cool. I’m down. Off to the tapes.

With the wide arm gesture of a circus ringmaster, and all the confidence of a true assistant manager, their large selection of cassette tapes was revealed. I quickly interrupted his well prepared speech on the genre and alphabetic artist organizational strategy.. S. T. U. V… Van Halen. Looks like.. Yes.. 1 copy left of Diver Down. I pull it quickly from the stack.

I inspected my targeted choice and wondered what the tracks I hadn’t heard yet would sound like. There was nothing worse than paying full price for an album to only enjoy 1 or 2 songs. I hated that the album cover was printed so small on the j-card. It takes all the fun away from reading the sleeve. Oh well. No worries. It will work. I’ll take the chance.

“Do you have batteries? It takes 4!” announced the ever present salesman. “We have some by the counter. I’ll ring you up.”

With $8 left in my pocket, I sat on a row of the dark bricks that doubled as a bench outside the store and began to unbox my glorious new device. I had to bite the cellophane wrapper on the cassette tape and still couldn’t get it to rip correctly. Finally, I insert the cassette into the Walkman and shut the plastic door. 4 AA batteries slide inside. I then placed the very first set of headphones I would ever own onto my head and turned the volume up to 8.. That seems about right.

I hit Play.

Cymbals swell. The volume increases. Warm crunchy guitar fills my head. David screams “Ew Wee”. The sounds of the mall are all long gone. O man, this is kick ass. I smile. Life is good.

I clip the magical silver brick to my pants pocket and begin my journey back through the mall. Am I walking too fast?

The guitar licks are amazing! Hang ‘em High!
OMG, I want a guitar that sounds like that.

Cathedral comes on. I love a cool intro. Lush chorus, clean guitar tones. The notes swell and echo with a classical phrasing that is pure genius. Wow, how is he doing that?
I’m pretty sure I’m walking too fast.

I turn it up to 9. Intruder. WTH! Awesome!
Rock and Roll!
Pretty Woman!

The sounds of the mall start to sneak back in through the small headphones. The tape player clicks off. I perform a quick gunslinger move and snap the brick from my back pocket. Eject. Flip. Close. Play.

The music returns, and I like this side even more than the last.
Dancing in the Street. Right on! Chicago!

Another cool intro with Little Guitars.
Man, I’m so glad I bought this album. A worthy purchase to be sure.

I liked the mall a lot more with Van Halen cranking through headphones. It was like the whole world got a new paint job. A much cooler paint job. Hey, those girls are still standing by the staircase. I’ll go check out the Alley again.

I proceeded to play. Flip. Repeat. Until about 3 hours later when I was walking down the street by my house for no other reason than to listen to the album.. again… when the music started slowing down, slower, slower.. and the batteries finally died a slow sad death. I turned around, headed straight back uptown to the local Jewel. I took my last $8 and bought as many double A batteries as I could afford.

And I listened to Eddie Van Halen’s guitar..
Over.. and over..
Play. Flip. Repeat.

Capone’s 5 Cool Led Zeppelin Songs

August 28, 2014 by mrcapone

Led Zeppelin, Rock Story, The LOOP

Led Zeppelin, Top 5, WLUP

It doesn’t take somebody long after I meet them before they figure out that I am one of those people that really loves music. All kinds. Truly… But especially Rock and Roll. From the old school fingerstyle blues of Robert Johnson’s acoustic guitar, through the effortless harmonies of the Beatles and the Dave Clark 5, to the primal screams of Robert Plant, the masterful bass lines of Geddy Lee, and the thunder of Metallica, yeah man, I LOVE ROCK AND ROLL!

So, it should be no surprise that I am often asked for my top 5. What are your top 5 favorite albums? songs? guitarists? concerts? Some of the best discussions are often started with these very questions.. And perhaps a couple of heated disagreements as well. Peart! no way man Bonham! What about Larz? LARZ?! The keg is spilled. Madness ensues. This can be tricky.

Look, I simply can’t pick only 5, or 10, or 20. I’ll think of another worthy addition that MUST be included, and another, and that will continue infinitely, forever and ever. A mad time loop is created. There are simply too many possibilities. Yes, tricky.

Perhaps the solution is to hyper define the query. Eliminators must be presented. Yes, that’s it. Let’s mark out a ball field here. ie. What are your top 5 rock songs recorded in 1977 featuring notable guitar solos from white American males.. in their 20s.. with long hair? Better. Yeah. Kinda. Nope, this is still impossible.

Regardless, the gauntlet has been thrown down yet again. The boss’s email read simply “Gentlemen, I need a blog about your top 5 Zeppelin songs for our upcoming Whole Lotta Zep Weekend.”

Horror. I began pacing the LOOP studio in deep discussion with myself. 5! 5? Impossible. How can I?… I can’t… I’ll start by elimination.. so.. well.. ok, is Bron-Y-Aur Stomp a top 5? well, sure to me, there was that campfire in 83 and the cheerleader, I had the acoustic guitar out and played that tune..and.. Does that count? Wait, what about Moby Dick? Top 5? Sure.. Ok… ah.. That won’t work either.

I now sat at the mixing board with my forehead pressed into my hands, elbows on the worn wooden console, thinking. Doomed. Impossible. Darkness.

Rock and Roll, it has to be in the top 5, right? Every guitarist should learn it, and Bonham said it was the song that made his butterflies go away during live shows. Sure. Ok. Stairway? Too easy, but worthy.. It always reminds me of 8th grade dances at St. Anne’s and the smell of Loves Baby Soft cologne.

Wait.. How long have I been thinking about this? I’m getting nowhere.

I must consult the oracle. I grabbed my new reissue Zeppelin II vinyl and placed it randomly on the turntable. I placed the needle down on the first track of side 2. The sound of Jimmy’s guitar and that magical lick filled the studio. I remembered playing that tune with my high school band. I could smell the warm rehearsal room amps, and the hint of something else drifting over that haze. My friends always liked it when I would rip into the solo. Yeah, this is a good idea. The answer will be made clear. It’s in here.

As the cool sound of a Chicago style electrified harmonica started to fade off in the distance, and the needle automatically lifted off of Bring It On Home and rested back on the side. I stood up abruptly.

A scene from the Last Samurai plays in my head. I see Tom Cruise in a death scene. This is odd. “Like the blossoms on the cherry tree, they are ALL perfect.” The Samurai dies. Ah, I get it.

NO SIR, I WILL NOT GIVE YOU 5!

Perfect. Yes, they are all.. PERFECT. From the open-tuning fingerstyle magic of Jimmy on Black Mountain Side, to the corny Hot Dog, Kashmir to Stairway, yes sir, I argue they are ALL perfect.. And all well worthy of my top 5.

Now, I’m going to go watch the Last Samurai again. I’m a bit disturbed it jumped in my head like that.

The Original Snurfer – My Day On Deadman’s Hill

March 21, 2005 by mrcapone

Blog Post

snowboard, snurfer, true story

I was actually one of the first snowboarders. At 39, that might seem pretty odd, but it’s true. When I was a kid living in Barrington Illinois, I found a “Snurfer” in somebody’s garbage while taking my usual walk downtown to Osco for a candy bar. At first I thought that this odd looking device sticking out of a garbage can was a water-ski, it looked exactly like one. It was made by Brunswick and had multicolored brown laminated wood with a white nylon rope fastened to the tip. Little white plastic bumps that reminded me of cleats stuck up from two separate places where you would put your feet. The tail section was gently molded into a slight bow, similar to the hull of a boat, with a 6 inch metal blade creating the contact point at the very bottom. This was a very cool score for a young kid, and even though it wasn’t winter yet, I took it home and put it in the garage, proud of my new oddity.

Several cold months past by and finally the first snow arrived that was deep enough for sledding. I anxiously grabbed my new Snurfer, threw it over my shoulder, and began the long walk for Dead Mans Hill. I think every town has a Dead Mans Hill. Our Dead Mans Hill was about 100 yards long, very steep, with a wicked lip in the middle that made for some seriously dangerous jumps. The whole hill is covered in oak and maple tress, so veering off the narrow cleared path that runs straight down the center can get you killed.

It didn’t take long for all of the kids in the neighborhood to come and check out this odd ski that I was going to brave down Dead Mans Hill. They all thought I was crazy, and looking back, I’m pretty sure they were all right. Of course, I kept my cool and acted the fearless champion daredevil.

After a great deal of show and tell it was time to put my money where my mouth is and ride this new contraption down the narrow snow covered path the laid before me. I would be a hero if I could pull this off, and there was no turning back. I looked down the steep hill with the confidence of an Olympic Ski Jumper. The large group of kids stepped backwards away from me and the hill became deathly quit. A smaller group had gathered about half way down the hill, right at the peak of the natural lip that would surely launch me and my Snurfer skyward. Everything was in place, it was time.

I wrapped the white nylon cord that attached to the tip of the Snurfer around my wrist like a professional bull rider. There was no way it was going to get loose. I dropped the board to the ground and put my left foot on the forward area of white plastic cleats that rose up from the wood. I slid the board back and forth a couple of times to see how fast it would glide. It had no friction. This was going to be a very fast ride. I knew the minute that I lifted my right foot to the back of the board that gravity and the incredibly steep slope would take effect and my quick descent would begin. I took a deep breath and bent my knees. I held my right arm behind me, raising my hand as if to give the signal that I’m ready. I lifted my right foot to the board and instantly began to accelerate to an amazing speed. I barely managed to place it on the back cleats. I was off.

The wind rushed by my ears. I pulled the nylon rope tighter and bent my knees to an almost crouching position. The trees were blurry as they whizzed by on either side of me. I could barely hear the cheers of my friends as the board skimmed across the top of the snow faster and faster. My eyes began to focus through the tunnel vision on the upcoming jump. This is way too fast. O my god. Stay calm. My balance was perfect. The board was amazingly fast. My speed kept increasing faster and faster. Jesus. Here comes the jump. Get ready.

I’ll never really know how fast I was going when my board hit the jump that day. Over the next few years my friends would compare the great launch to a rocket ship blasting off into warp speed. To me, time stood still. It was as if God had hit the slow motion button so that he could enjoy every sadistic microsecond of this amazing event.

The short ramp of the jump went by in a blink, and with it the slicing sound of the snow under my board had disappeared into an eerie howl of wind as I took to the air. The ground seemed to simply fall away as I continued my ascent. Higher and higher I rose, climbing further into the tree tops and farther away from the descending slope of the hill far below me. My eyes grew wider. The howling slowed. I was reaching the peak of my incredible trajectory and I knew that descent was immanent.

You see, the Snurfer was an amazing invention oozing with potential that would soon come to be realized by thousands of avid snowboarders over the next 30 years; however it was not without a few minor design flaws that had suddenly become very apparent to me. It’s true, that while the little white plastic cleats that my shoes rested on would surely allow me traction for turning while on the hill, there was nothing to secure my feet to the board while airborne.

The death grip that my left hand had on the nylon rope was now pulling the nose of the board towards me and well away from back foot. My inexperience with weightlessness combined with the fact that my muscles were now petrified with fear was beginning to take its toll. Both feet were now well off the board. I began to descend at an alarming rate.

Again the wind rushed by my ears as I continued on the downward slope of my arc. I was dangerously high and there was nothing I could do about it now. My body was frozen in the same crouched position it had acquired before lift off. The rope was still in my hand, but I had no idea how far away my feet were from the one thing that might allow me to survive the impending impact that was quickly approaching. My eyes were wide with fear. My mouth opened but nothing came out. The ground was now racing towards me. There was nothing to do but wait for the impact.

It’s amazing how fast the brain can think when you’re in a state of extreme panic. Within the smallest fraction of an instant, 100’s of harsh impact scenarios were running through my distressed mind. I envisioned sharp broken bones penetrating through my violently ripped skin whilst my body cart wheeled end over end. What have I done? I don’t want to die. This is it. O god.

All though I could not see it, the very end of the tail of the Snurfer would be the first to hit the snow, scraping along like the angle of a large jet liner on touchdown. A split second later, and with a mighty thwacking sound my rear foot and then front foot squashed the remainder of the board unto the snow. My left hand was still holding the white nylon rope in a panicked death grip. My body frozen in the exact position I had assumed well before the launch with my right arm flying behind me like a cowboy in a rodeo. I was back on the snow, and with a mighty Fwwwish I was once again racing down the remainder of the hill.

I was going too fast and would soon run out of hill. My flight had caused me to gain an incredible amount of speed and I had never even thought to learn how to turn, much less stop. I held fast as I blurred unto the flat area at the bottom of the hill. There was no way I was going to stop in time before I would cross the street that was in front of me.

The road had been plowed the night before, and a slight pile of snow lined both sides of the street. In an instant my board and I were airborne as we lifted off the slight bank of snow. I quickly landed on the hard asphalt and slowly my board began to rotate counterclockwise. I had no traction on this surface. I was loosing my balance. I slid across the street sideways. Damn. Damn. I was too paniced to even look for the cars, not that it would have done any good.

The board and I grinded our way across the two lane road and crashed into the other snow bank. Smack! I flew up in the air, twirling and twisting from the harsh impact. Everything was blurry. I could see the world spinning around as I whirled about in the air. I abruptly stopped. Suddenly it was quite.

I remained motionless. Everything was dark. I knew that I had landed somewhere in the Church parking lot that was directly across the street from Dead Mans Hill. Why is it so dark? I waited for a rush of pain or even perhaps the warm dripping sensation of fresh blood. It never came. I sat up and wiped the snow that had caked up in my eyes. I was staring back up at the hill, the nylon rope still clenched in my hand.

Hooray! Hooray! That was so cool! My friends were all yelling and screaming as they ran towards me, their arms flailing about in the air. I rose to my feet and did a quick scan to check for broken bones. I was o.k., I had made it. I raised my arms in genuine triumph. I was a king. My Snurfer was still dangling from the end of the rope, in tact. She had made it, we both had made it. I held the board above my head with both arms and gave a mighty yell! Yes. Yes. Yes. That was excellent.

My friends all gathered around me in their multi-colored snow gear, yelling and screaming, patting me on the back, admiring the board in my hands as if it had mystical powers. They began to give me their extremely exaggerated perspectives on the mighty event. I held my head high and stared back up the hill. I had done it.

My friends would never know that it was pure fear that held my body in that cool tucked positions while in the air. To them it was pure poetry, natural skill and bravado. Who was I to deny them? My god that was cool. Let’s do it again.