When it was announced that there would be a public memorial service for Hanneman, I knew that I wanted to be there, even though I didn’t know what to expect. What would it feel like to be amongst sad Slayer fans? As I walked up to the Palladium and took a photo of the marquee, and rounded the corner to find my place in line, I was greeted with a sea of metalheads who had been waiting in line since the wee hours of the morning. They yelled “SLAYER!!” and changed to “METAL BLADE” to reflect the shirt I was wearing as I passed by. There were mini camps set up, like tailgating, and that was when I realized that as much as we were mourning, we were all celebrating our love for Slayer, as if once we entered those doors, we’d be seeing a show.

I was there two hours early when I found the end of the line almost completely wrapped around the block at that point. I took a seat and took off my headphones to start taking it all in. It was a scene; I am so glad I went early to witness all of the crazy things that were happening in that line. From the cops in cars and on bikes who were circling the block like sharks, probably initially thinking that they would serve and protect against Westboro v. Slayer fans, but since Westboro were no-shows, instead ended up ticketing drinking minors and adults who thought downing bottles of Heineken would be a good idea. Then there was the guy on a bicycle who stopped and asked my line neighbors what was going on- empathized with the situation and showed his support by whipping out a container of weed and gifting a bud to them. And who could forget the guy wearing a hooded ensemble like a Nameless Ghoul and a guy with a TV on as a helmet. There were families with little kids in Slayer shirts. We watched and laughed as people would round the corner and realize just how monstrous the line was and freak out. We would yell at the buses of Hollywood tours as they took photos and videos of us. And as we got closer to getting in, we watched the VIPs arrive: the bandmates, tour mates, family and friends who knew the person, while we only knew the music.

But that was more than enough.

As I entered the building and saw the way it was set up- like the most rock &roll funeral service ever- it all hit me. What was I doing here? Do I really even belong at something like this?

I did not become a Slayer fan until late in life. Unlike many metal fans, who’s tastes mellow out with age, I walked away from the mainstream metal I listened to as a kid for most of my early twenties only to return and suddenly develop an appetite for the extreme. Slayer was part of that barrier that broke and hurtled me into an ongoing quest for the angrier, faster, and more evil. I used to write it off as being too much for me, sounding like adults in a Peanuts cartoon, until one day it was if I started speaking their language. And then I learned every record, went to every show.

I would see Slayer so many times in the late ’00s that it began to feel like they would just always be there. Constantly touring, I felt like I always had a Slayer show on my calendar.

Then came the spider bite, and the necrotizing fasciitis. The most metal-sounding ailment in the world, it almost felt appropriate, like a necessary part of their story. Hanneman would be off for a while. But then time started to pass, and he wasn’t back. And then there was the whole Dave Lombardo issue. And then we find out Hanneman is dead.

I think for many fans, it was not just a loss of a great guitarist, but also the end of Slayer as we knew it.

As the Palladium began to fill, we lined up along a barricade a ways back from the stage to allow for seating for family and friends up front. The woman next to me shared a story of going to see Slayer and Pantera while she was 7 months pregnant with her daughter- from a seat, of course- and how her daughter has always loved Slayer. I watched people around me sporadically yell the band name at each other; the two-syllable word is perhaps the most heavily weighted currency in metal.

As the event began, we would hear stories about Hanneman from business associates and friends for about an hour. The exuberant fans would often yell out, and early on were instructed to change their chants from “SLAYER!!” to “HAN-NE-MAN!!!”. Sometimes the yelling was supportive: “WE KNOW HOW YOU FEEEELLL!!” or not, and in one case Kerry King shut this guy down with “is this your story or mine?!”. The guy would not speak again. One of the speakers mentioned how we should all be nicer to each other, and there was a murmur of laughter from the crowd.

A girl next to me now had a bouquet of roses. As the event transitioned from speakers, including an ad hoc appearance from Shavo from System of a Down who talked about how Slayer were the first band that took them on the road, and we went into the video sequence.

I’m a contagious cryer, but I’d held it together until the beginning notes of “Fade to Black” started and the photos of Hanneman’s life began to show. That was when I had some buried memories resurface, and the tears began to fall.

In 2007, I lost my grandmother. The first show I had a week after that happened was Slayer and Manson. In 2009, I lost my grandfather, and hours after I heard the news, I was at a Metallica concert. And in 2010, I lost my mom, and the show I went to the day after my mom’s funeral was Slayer, Megadeth, and Anthrax.

It just worked out that way.

There were comments that I wasn’t mourning right. People have this ideal that you are supposed to surround yourself with family, to pray, to cry, to experience grief. I don’t work like that. Music has always been my medicine, my therapist, and in those years of numbness where I lost the three most important people in my life, somehow, Slayer (and Metallica) was there to help me feel.

As the video soundtrack moved on to South of Heaven, we saw the photographs move from Hanneman’s childhood to the early days of Slayer to Slayer as we knew them today. And then the thunder struck and the room filled with “Raining Blood”.

I was wiping away a tear when I was thrown forward towards the barricade, and I turned around to a full on circle pit of fans thrashing about singing the words. It was amazing. I watched the musicians in VIP smile and take photos with their phones.

“Raining blood!!! From a lacerated sky!!!” we all screamed with our fists in the air. And in that moment I was so aware of the fact that even though I may not have been a lifelong metalhead, even though I’m new to this town, even though I didn’t personally know all of these people…we are so connected. These people are my family.

As the event wrapped up, I bought a shirt to commemorate the night. And then we all went our separate ways, maybe never to be connected in the same way to Slayer again. But we said our goodbyes, we got closure, in a way that only we could.

I think it’s gonna rain when I die, and I hope there’s a circle pit.

For better coverage of the speakers, look here.

There’s nothing like running into an old flame while walking into the venue alone to prepare you for a Dillinger Escape Plan show.

There’s nothing like realizing you are probably going to be the oldest person there to prepare you for a Dillinger Escape Plan show.

I knew so many people who wanted to be at this show but refused to go because of the venue. I had only been to the Chain Reaction once before and didn’t hate it, plus there is very little that would deter me from going to a Dillinger show.

Upon entry, I realized that a little wall that runs along the end of the stage could be used as a personal barricade, so I nuzzled up to the corner of the stage against this wall. My days of DEP pits are over.

Royal Thunder are one of those bands that everyone’s been telling me to listen to. I was really excited to see them. The three piece from Atlanta play bluesy hard rock…which is about the last thing I’d expect to open for DEP. But I didn’t mind. The soulful voice of Mel Parsons grips you as she does a seemingly involuntary shuffle in place as she plays the bass. I can’t help but think of The Dead Weather as I watch them; she’s like Alison Mosshart’s more rebellious sister. There’s also something about watching a drummer play on a smaller kit; it feels much more raw. There was a guy in a Motörhead shirt watching intently right in front of Parsons, who left immediately after their set.

The Faceless barely fit on the stage. I had definitely never seen them play anything as small as this. They seemed frustrated. Bassist Evan Brewer had to play practically under the sidestage door archway, and that is the metal equivalent of putting “baby in a corner”. Halfway into the first song, we got our first hint at what was to come in terms of crowd activity. These are the shows where members of the crowd become almost as important as members of the band when you look back on the night. The Faceless have moved into an Opeth-like space; their songs are a dizzying combination of death growls and pushing each instrument’s limits, to ’70s prog rock and soft vocals. But the crowd can keep up, though it’s odd to watch the stop & start pit.

I credit my first DEP show with setting me on the path that took me where I am today. I was particularly excited for this show because the Chain Reaction, at it’s 250-person capacity, is set up in a similar way to San Francisco’s Bottom of the Hill, where that show took place. I’m about to do a lot of revisiting the past, and this was a good night to help facilitate that.

DEP are one of the more polarizing bands I listen to. A lot of what I listen to doesn’t fit together. I never have looked at music as being what sounds good to me, but rather how it makes me feel. Which is why my thing is live music: it’s easier to feel it that way. It’s like food: I rarely think about how it’s going to taste, but instead what its nutritional value will be. Only listening to, say, death metal, is like only eating chicken. Listening to DEP is like taking these wellness shots I sometimes get at the juice bar: wheatgrass, honey, cayenne, and ginger. It burns like hell, then makes you feel like a million bucks. And it’s ultimately good for you.

Even though I was back in one of the smaller places I’d seen DEP in, this would be the biggest production I’d seen them have. After between-set music consisting of My Bloody Valentine, Crystal Castles, and some rap music, there was a long intro song while the venue was bathed in fog and strobe lights. Then they stormed onstage to giant applause and launched into that searing beginning of “Prancer”. I laughed at the sign that said “no crowd surfing” as guitarist Ben Weinman sailed into the crowd. Standing where I was it was if someone had turned on the heat in the other room, and soon I began to glisten with sweat even though it wasn’t really hot where I was standing. Every DEP show is a much needed release of aggression for me; I know most of the words and even the complex beats of the songs. My plight of becoming a fan started with the shows: “I love them live, but I’ll never listen to them…I can’t even tell the songs apart!” to this. I guess where they really got me is when I figured out that, in the breaks from the math metal-the complex riffs and the screaming- the breaths in the music come from a place some of my other favorites influenced: Deftones…NIN…Depeche Mode.

Which was why I was super happy to hear their cover of “Behind the Wheel” again.

They also played “When Good Dogs Do Bad Things”, from the EP with Mike Patton. These fit in amongst the new songs, and the moments that always highlight a DEP show for me: the beginning of “Sugar Coated Sour” and “Panasonic Youth”, the ending of “Room Full of Eyes” and “Sunshine the Werewolf” (my FAVE…I scream that ending at the band like I’m screaming it at certain people I know)…all of “43% Burnt”.

There is a division of the crowd between the people who are wide-eyed and seeing it for the first time, the ones that are in it, and those, like me, who are cheerleaders on the sidelines. The new guitarist replacing Jeff Tuttle held his own in the battle of speed and brawn that these shows are. I can’t imagine what his audition must have been like. Before the set began, I was eavesdropping on a conversation happening in front of me where a guy was trying to explain the chaos that was about to take place. It ended in, “this will probably be one of the greatest shows you ever see.” They were probably 18. I almost interjected that he was right.

I’ve spent the majority of my life living in the two hubs for psychedelic music: Austin, TX and San Francisco, CA. The Black Angels are from Austin, and they have become almost curators of the psychedelic scene. The put on the annual Austin Psych Fest that draws bands and fans of the genre from all over the world.

Pomona is a sleepy little town sitting an hour East of LA. The facades of the buildings feel as if they’ve barely been touched since the ’60s and ’70s, which provides a righteous environment for seeing such a show as The Black Angels.

Hanni El Khatib and Wall of Death opened the show, warming our ears with their span of wistful and hard-driving reverberation. When The Black Angels play, it’s easy to forget when and where you are. The Glass House began to vibrate with all of the sounds that guitarist Christian Bland emanates, drummer Stephanie Bailey begins her primordial, hypnotic beats, and singer Alex Maas’s words sail through the gap between the two as it all comes together for “Vikings”. Some of the Angels songs are downers, some are uppers, like “I Hear Colors (Chromaesthesia)”. I dance and sway and sing along, as the thought grips me that I am neither here nor there. Within these songs lie memories of the different places I have lived, the different times I have experienced. They are the key which unlocks them, and makes me feel connected.

“Don’t Play With Guns” is almost humorous coming from a band from Texas. “Entrance Song” speaks of highways I learned to drive on. “Evil Things” is my favorite song off their newly released Indigo Meadow. The psychedelic visuals which danced across the backdrop of the stage complimented every song, whether it be patterns or images. It was, at times, like being inside a kaleidoscope.

When the opening riff for “Black Grease” plays, I am taken back to my first time seeing them, right after graduating college. That is such a weird time in life, and this song will always remind me of that era. “Holland” smooths over the grittiness of the songs before it, the organ taking prominence. “Bad Vibrations” is like falling faster and faster through a sound spiral.

After a stripped down, solo vocal segment from Maas, the encore began, vibrating the walls of the Glass House for it’s final moments as the clock neared midnight. Then it was back to reality.

I was tormented by the fact that I could hear Abysmal Dawn on stage as I inched closer to the Will Call counter. With a ticket finally in hand (which said Bad Brains on it…), I rushed in to the main floor just in time to hear the final song, “In Service of Time”. While it was a thrill to make it in just in time for that, I was super bummed out to have missed the rest.

My Abysmal Dawn interview

I watched Immolation from a strange perch that made it seem like I was almost levitating in front of the band. But, it provided the most awesome observation point to watch guitarist Rob Vigna play. I had seen Immolation once before…but I…uh….I was far away and I don’t remember a lot. But watching Vigna play with his slice-and-dice guitar moves is menacing, and fits the music in the most perfect way. While my favorite Immolation track is “Majesty and Decay”, I listened attentively to the new, crushing tunes…and quickly realized that while this levitation post was kinda cool, the sound was crap.

I never thought I’d see Napalm Death this many times within a year (4 times…2 of those being on a boat). They are seriously one of the heaviest, scariest sounding bands. Once I had a crazy night out and came home and listened to ND at like 4 in the morning, passed out, and woke up thinking my place was being robbed. Don’t fall asleep listening to ND! At a place like the Observatory, where you’ve got the ingredients for some of the rowdiest pits I’ve seen (high energy, crazy OC kids + a pit that’s not too big but not too small) coupled with the fact that the rest of us are hovering over this pit at a good vantage point, I can’t help but lament the past. My being in front for shows like this are over. I’m too old now, plus, the head injury I sustained earlier this year has made me fearful of another injury. I haven’t felt the same since. It’s weird to have crossed that gap- to realize you’re not one of those rowdy kids anymore…but I have many good memories that I will hold onto, from farther back in the venue.

My affinity for Cannibal Corpse weirds people out sometimes. I think this was my 10th time seeing them. To me, they’re just classic. Reaching far back into the catalog for “Skull Full of Maggots”, the setlist traversed their long career. However, before some of my favorite songs were played- yes, I like “the hits”…but one of my fave CC songs is “From Skin To Liquid”….so there- it was time to make the voyage back to the city, where some ducks crossed our path in the parking lot. Ducked with a knife.

~”It’s Only Rock ‘n’ Roll (But I Like It), The Rolling Stones

It was Thanksgiving Day 2010. My dad and I were driving west on I10, listening to Life, the audio book of Keith Richards’ biography. My mom had been gone two months.

We were on our way to see Roger Waters’ The Wall in Phoenix, a trip that my mom was going to join us on, but things just happened that fast.

At some point during that trip, we said that if The Rolling Stones ever tour again, we’d go see them together.

My dad and I aren’t very close, and I hadn’t seen him since I left Texas last August. But since music is the universal language, somehow a whirlwind roadtrip was planned around a Rolling Stones concert.

Faced with mediocre reviews of shows late last year, and extremely high ticket places, I decided to go with the band’s $85 ticket lottery system. We could end up front row or last row. Normally I would have sprung for the good seats for a concert that should have been as meaningful as this, but with nosebleeds even being triple digits- not to mention the seats I would normally get being in the quadruple digits, I decided to try my luck. We would be seeing them in the town known for pressing your luck, Las Vegas, anyway.

I will only drop that kind of money when Led Zeppelin reunites.

I have always loved The Stones. If I had to chose between The Beatles or The Stones, I would chose The Stones- even though Sgt. Pepper’s was one of my first albums. To me, The Beatles were kind of like the kid on the football team that grew their hair long senior year and smoked pot publicly at a party a couple times, The Stones were the long-haired rebel that was a “bad influence” on the football player. And Zeppelin was the new kid that showed up on the first day and changed the way the entire school thought, dressed and behaved.

At least that’s how I always thought about it.

Which brings me to the moment I opened the envelope with our tickets. The moment I had meditated on and hoped for over the past few weeks. And my heart sank as I pulled out two tickets that were close to the top and back of the arena.

There are few things in life that will turn me into a spoiled, snotty, privileged child- not having a good seat at the show is one of them. Which re-taught me a lesson that night- I should have just paid for better tickets if it meant that much to me. You really do get what you pay for in life, and I should not have taken the gamble with this one. I tried to upgrade our tickets there, but it was completely sold out. Luckily, my dad didn’t care, and the arena was set up in a way where we could still see fairly well.

The show began an hour later than I expected- at 9pm- with no opener and no bullshit. When I do sit farther away, the crowd becomes an ancillary member of the show for me, and to see everyone on their feet singing “Get Off of My Cloud!” together was surreal. Mick Jagger’s sparkly jacket and hyperactive twitching child moves seemed to be created simply to reach out to a person like me, sitting far away. How a 69 year old man can still move like this is beyond me- he’s my dad’s age for crying out loud; many say they are performing better than they did in their early years.

Celebrating 50 years as a band, every song in the setlist was a hit. When I listen to The Stones, I think about how their words are so borderline rebellious. As a kid, I wondered if they tapped into a burgeoning rebellious culture and manifested these catch phrases themselves, or did they simply pluck these sayings from the collective consciousness and make them household sing-alongs? How many times is a Stones song quoted in a day? Ya know who creates these types of things nowadays? Rappers. Our catch phrases come from rappers today.

Perhaps rock & roll really is dead.

The Stones have had a celebrity guest on every night of the tour so far, and tonight’s would be Katy Perry dueting on “Beast of Burden”. Of course. Tom Waits would have been much more my speed. This song was also voted on by fans using social media. Hearing Mick Jagger talk about social networking weirded me out.

The mouth and tongue setup was cool, with the pit being inside the tongue and the outline of it being a giant circular catwalk. However, with ticket prices being that much, the production did not have a lot of bells & whistles. I know exactly where my money is going for Rammstein (up in flames), for The Wall (into giant bricks), for Madonna (costumes, dancers, etc.), for NIN (moving light pieces)…but here there wasn’t much beyond the design. Also, they did not utilize the catwalk as much as I would expect (Madonna used it for almost every song).

I loved seeing the homage reel to the artists that The Stones drew a lot of inspiration from: Leadbelly, Elvis, Little Richard…I was wondering if Gram Parsons was going to be featured. He was not.

My roadtrip to this show with my dad started in Joshua Tree. As with many things in my life, a sticky spider web unexpectedly connected many elements in this trip: from staying in the infamous death place of Parsons- The Joshua Tree Inn- to randomly catching Jim Lauderdale performing at Pappy & Harriets, to walking around the Hard Rock Hotel where we stayed in Vegas and seeing a poster for a Gram Parsons tribute show featuring both Keith Richards and Jim Lauderdale. I tripped out a little, having forgotten the Parsons/Stones connection. The Flying Burrito Bros. released “Wild Horses” a year before The Stones did (who wrote the song and gifted it to Parsons to use).

“Wild Horses” is perhaps my favorite Stones song, but it would go unplayed tonight. It reminds me of my mom. “She’s A Rainbow” and “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking” are my other favorites that were not played. It’s amazing that a band can play only hits and still leave you whining for more. But hearing “Honky Tonk Women” and “Tumbling Dice” were like, wow, it didn’t seem real, especially with an arena full of people providing back up vocals. Speaking of back up singers, the woman who joined in on “Gimme Shelter” almost stole the show. And the local choir on “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” were great to have, simply to have that part of the song be live. And all things considered, they really should have played “The Last Time”…

Mick Taylor joined the band for a few songs, stealing some thunder from the blue-shoed Ronnie Wood and the scarf-swathed Keith Richards. I have read a lot about The Stones, which tends to be a meandering soap opera of bedding the same women, drugs, and interpersonal tension. Taylor wasn’t a part of that (except for a bit of the latter)…but it was good to see “the band back together” on their 50th anniversary.

I have read almost everything about Zeppelin and they are still a mystery to me.

As the ubiquitous “I Can’t Get No (Satisfaction)” began, I started to think about what it meant to me to see “the world’s greatest rock & roll band”. It was very necessary.

And my dad told everyone he really enjoyed the show.

“And do ya think that you’re the only girl around?
I bet you think that you’re the only woman in town

I said i know it’s only rock ‘n roll but i like it
I said i know it’s only rock ‘n roll but i like it
I said i know it’s only rock ‘n roll but i like it, like it, yes, i do
Oh, well, i like it, i like it. i like it…”

Inside and in my usual spot, I watched Black Tusk play their final notes before Cancer Bats hit the stage. I knew nothing about Cancer Bats going into this set besides “Lucifer’s Rocking Chair”, but I thoroughly enjoyed their high energy set. Their placement after Savannah’s Black Tusk provided an good transition into their Southern-tinged sound, even though they are from our Northern neighbors, Toronto, Canada. The crowd was whipped up into a frenzy, singing along ferociously. There was an overlying feeling of positivity to their set, even when they talked about how they had their van break down in Oregon and had to abandon their gear and merch and squeeze in with the Black Tusk guys.

The room was totally full as the curtain lifted for Kvelertak. From seeing them on their first tour in the US, to in a college basement in London, to last year even…all of a sudden every one in that room was singing along and grooving to the riffs. When vocalist, Erland Hjelvik, started sticking the mic in people’s faces to let them sing, I was surprised that so many Los Angelenos knew how to speak Norwegian. The band’s explosive energy hasn’t waned with the release of their sophomore effort, Meir. My favorite move would have to be Erland’s side kick / grunt combo. It’s the best. This would be the first time that I was able to watch drummer Kjetil Gjermundrød play…holy shit, new favorite drummer. Starting off with a new track and then meandering back and forth between “old” and new ones, Erland would sometimes get caught up in the moment and launch himself into the crowd, who welcomed him in their arms and would gradually get him safely back to the stage. And there was so much spit…so much spit. I barely missed out on getting covered in Norwegian DNA many times. Wait a minute, that didn’t sound right. Anyway, Kvelertak sets are always fun, and that first album will always hold a special place for me. I’m going to assume I’ll only be seeing this band in bigger and bigger venues from here on out.

~”Nothing Compares 2 U”, Prince

To Prince or not to Prince was the question on my mind for months as this concert remained unconfirmed on my calendar.

The Cons: at $200 a ticket, the show was pricey, not to mention I promised myself when I saw him at his club in Las Vegas in 2006 (for $125) that I would NEVER go see Prince alone again. It’s date night for everyone!

The Pros: It’s Prince, need I say more….except that my only other Prince show was a mere month before starting this site, so I don’t have a good documented record of my reactions.

At 11:15pm on a Tuesday night, I found myself clutching a $150 ticket standing next to a scalper who I was forcing to stay in line with me until I made sure the ticket was legit. This is the first time I’ve used a scalper in a long time, and no, I don’t feel good about it. But saving $75 in ticket price + fees made it more bearable that I was the lone single gal entering the Grove that night, again.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

One thing that hasn’t changed is Prince.

I was surprised to be able to walk into the venue and straight up to the stage, where I would be one person from it. I was surrounded by older couples, girls’ night out groups, and a few awkward man-dates. But the thing we all had in common was that we were all super excited.

Introduced by the drummer who came to the mic to remind everyone of what they had already been told at least three times: that no photos were allowed. Now, I hate the person who holds their phone in the air all night long as much as you do, but I found myself having to remind myself at least three times to not whip out my phone for what would have surely been some of the best instagrams I have ever taken. It’s a natural part of my concert experience nowadays. But, the night will remain visually undocumented.

At about 11:45pm, the curtain lifted to reveal 3rd Eye Girl, Prince’s exquisite backing band of Hannah Ford on drums, Ida Nielsen on bass, and Donna Grantis on guitar. Prince was standing back near the drums, smirking at the crowd, knowingly taking the hit of adoring stares the whole room instantly threw in his direction. His hair, a modest afro; he was wearing black pants under a sleeveless, turtleneck tunic adorned by a large metal necklace. And heels. At least 2 inch heels.

As he struted towards the guitar at the front of the stage, I watched the diverse crowd around me collectively lose their shit. All guitars were tethered to their boards by curly q cords, everyone sparkled in certains spots, and a large LED screen began to dish out visuals and words. The atmosphere immediately became some yearless amalgamation of the decades spanning Prince’s career.

I was so close that when the show truly began, and I realized I was in the front lines of the strobe light, I felt like I almost got electrocuted when it turned on. But it didn’t deter me from staying right where I was. I could see Prince’s pores; the man has not aged a day. I’m not that girl who finds him attractive, but the sexuality that he exudes has definitely not faded away.

The show essentially began the moment he started strumming the guitar. That is what I was there for; not the disco dance tracks, not the voice, not the dance moves…though those were all awesome. I was there for one of the best guitarists of all time.

I will admit that I don’t completely understand Prince, and that is why I consider him one of the true artists living today. Let’s just say it: he’s weird. And I love weirdos. There are entire series of SNL skits about his weirdness, you could write a thesis on the eccentricities of the way he looks, the way he constructs his shows, the way he writes and records music…it’s all weird. Can you think of anyone in the past 10 years or so who’s even remotely like this? Tell me if so. The man changed his name to a symbol for a while and we all went with it!

But when he plays the guitar, I understand him. I may not even know or like what he’s playing, but there’s something about the way he plays that just transcends. It rises above, into that space where only people who have truly mastered the instrument can take it. And I’ve seen A LOT of guitarists in my day. It’s rare. And it was practically in my face at times.

My only wish was that he played more guitar that night.

As a whole, the show barely touched on the hits that were all played the other time that I had seen him. Instead, there would be more deep cuts and newer material. A middle section of the show would feature a dance party that he sort of DJ’ed and sang on a medley of some of his more famous numbers with his backing band, while people who at first I thought were being pulled out for taking photos appeared on stage to dance around. The final section of the show had him at the piano most of the time, singing and playing beautifully. The highlight of the night would have to be “Nothing Compares 2 U”, shortly followed by “She’s Always in My Hair”.

On this night, Prince became less of an enigma to me. I could see how much he connected with the audience, working hard to please them. I also appreciated how the show was crafted: it honored all of the musicians and put the music first, but still had a nice production to back it up. But mainly, I was able to witness how much of a total package Prince is: from the songs to the musicianship, the dancing and the unexplainable charisma. An intimate show with a legend is truly priceless.

And here’s from the last time I saw Killing Joke.

RIP Jeff Hanneman.

The last time I saw him play with Slayer was the day after my mom’s funeral. Here’s the last photo I took of him.