The summer is drawing near its end. The days are getting slightly shorter, though it is hard to even notice. The nights are getting a little cooler, at least where I live on the East Coast. If you go to school in the fall, your mind is no doubt drifting back to what the heck you want to do with your life once you escape the shackles of seven periods a day with a short, crappy lunch sandwiched in the middle. If you spent the summer away from home you are either happy or sad or both, that your summer lovin’ is about to discover its untimely conclusion. If your summer found you doing something you love with people that you love then you are no doubt going to close your eyes and relive the memory over and over again. I closed my eyes a lot on the long drive home, not to sleep, but to remember. What a summer. What a tour. What a good time I have had sharing my experiences and my thoughts with each one of you throughout the whole process. To pay my thanks for the joy you all have brought me by joining me here at revolvermag.com, I made sure I had my camera with me the whole way home. Don’t get me wrong, I could go on and on for pages about the amazing summer that I had and the travels I experienced to get home; but as they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. Allow me to close my eyes…

One Final Question:

What was the coolest thing you did or saw this summer? And Warped Tour does not count.

One Final Song Quote:

“Clap your hands and lift your hoof, and I’ll try to like horses.” – “Panda” by Mew (the line is a bit abstract, but if you hear the way he sings it, you will absolutely melt)

We have reached the end of my summer blog. I really hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Until we meet again, always remember to believe in yourself and trust in your own decisions because the last person in the world you should ever let down is yourself.

"I Brought My Own Fork"

Vegas. A city known mainly for its buffets. That is what it’s known for, right? Just buffets. Not anything else.

We checked in the Green Valley Ranch Hotel with the intention of resting and getting clean, but so much more awaited us. The self-proclaimed Original Pancake House was beckoning us with offerings of bacon-filled pancakes. Wow! What a concept! Could it be? Has someone enshrined crisp, salty bacon in a fluffy sweet cake like Han Solo in carbonite? Am I Jabba the Hut? I like the rancor better.

Of course I ordered these hotcakes along with some bacon and eggs. I ordered the additional bacon to have a grasp on how it tasted outside of a pancake so I could accurately describe what I was eating. That’s a lie. I’m just a pig, no pun intended. The actual pancake was a little mushy for me. I prefer a fluffy and light pancake, cooked until crisp on the edges. These were the opposite of that. Somewhat dense and lacking in flavor. The bacon was a little rubbery and lent nothing to the bacon-pancake experience. The two tastes seemed to exist separately and unaffected by each other. Or maybe the two flavors cancelled each other out? Regardless of the food paradox that may have occurred, they weren’t tasty. At the end of the day, isn’t that what really matters?

Bacon-filled pancakes aren’t the only things on my mind. The Depot Tavern next to First Ave., in Minneapolis, made a pretty good first impression on me. Playing First Ave. granted us the half-price deal at the Tavern, so I walked over after our set. As many of you know, I’m a burger enthusiast, so my eyes wandered to that area of the menu first. But the moment I read that they had a four-cheese baked mac-and-cheese dish with havarti being one of the cheeses, I knew what my dinner would be. It was just how I prefer it; a heavy blend of strong cheeses, chewy pasta and crisp edges. It was incredibly rich and filling. The seemingly small serving on the plate was more than enough. So good I would punch my own face! I washed it down with a Killabrew Root Beer. Killabrew is an RB to write home about. You know how Barq’s claims to have bite? Well, this RB really does. Very spicy and delicious. Comparable to Sparky’s, if you’ve tried that. Check out the Depot Tavern’s Facebook page.

Another restaurant I had the pleasure of enjoying recently was the T-Mex Cantina in Fort Lauderdale. Not only did they have some crunchy and delicious chicken and beef tacos, they also served a dessert similar to the ice cream truck favorite, the Choco Taco. The difference is that this version was made on the spot and topped with nuts. I didn’t eat this myself, but my good friend Karim thoroughly enjoyed it. In hindsight, I should have ordered one, too. Next time.

So what do bacon-filled pancakes, homemade choco tacos and baked mac and cheese have in common? They’re all unhealthy, delicious, and devoured with haste by me. Except the choco taco. Remember? From before? Hi.

Well, well, well. You guys sure do love a challenge. I asked for 150 comments on last week’s blog and you guys responded with a remarkable 241 comments! That blows my mind, thank you so very much. Now, I know I promised to answer last week’s question in the form of a comment, but after posting the blog I realized that it might be hard for everyone to find my answer amongst the slew of stories you were all sharing. You definitely kept me busy this week reading everything, but as always I enjoyed every second. OK, without further ado, the moment you have all been waiting (not waiting) for. When I am in my underwear jumping around my room like a nut, the first record I will always put on is….(drum roll)…. “You’ll Rebel To Anything” by Mindless Self Indulgence. If you cannot dance to that record you are either deaf or have no feet. (My sincerest apologies to any of you who are deaf, have no feet, or both).

Warped Tour is winding down. Only five more shows left to go. It is amazing how time can sometimes pass in the blink of an eye. I feel like I was just sitting in our van with Patrick and Alex heading from my apartment in Maryland to meet the rest of the guys and the Bandwagon in North Carolina to begin our cross-country jaunt. So much has happened since then. It is such a bizarre feeling when something that happened seven weeks ago can feel almost as if it took place minutes ago. All else aside, I would absolutely consider this year’s Warped Tour to be a success for Alesana. Our crowds, thanks to you, have been enormous. People are singing along, jumping around, buying our shirts, waiting in line to meet us, and spreading the word of our energy on stage at a rapid pace that even I cannot wrap my head around. This is our sixth year as Alesana and, in an industry climate that sees bands come and go with the changing of the seasons, to be able to say that we are bigger than we have ever been brings chills to my skin. It also has led me to reflect recently on how I came to be where I am, musically speaking. From a baseball glove to a guitar, from Dave Matthews Band and Radiohead covers to pop-punk 16th beats, from baggy cargo pants to skinny-girl jeans, from Falling Out of Line to TLE to Alesana. It seems like only yesterday…

I was given my first acoustic guitar as a present from my parents on Christmas Day when I was 17. I did not how to play it, of course, but I was already an established and highly respected air guitar player so I figured it could not be that hard. My first gig ever consisted of me performing Smashing Pumpkins songs on my air guitar in front of a mirror and my dog, Reggie. Needless to say, there was no encore. I started writing actual songs shortly after I graduated high school. I had taken a beginner guitar course my senior year to learn the basics and by the second semester I was already blowing past my classmates and essentially was self-taught the remainder of the way. In fact, my teacher would let me blow off class and go play my guitar outside because I was already beyond the things he was showing everyone else. Good ol’ Mr. J. I miss that guy. (Fun fact, I actually wound up playing a festival with his son, Chris Jay and the Army of Freshmen, years later. What a small world it can be at times.) I started my first band during my second year of college. I had been writing for some time and decided I was ready to organize and arrange full songs, as opposed to just acoustic guitar and vocals. I named the project “Falling Out of Line” and the lineup included my friends Nick Onorato and Ryan Quinn. Our music was all over the place. It was quite obvious that we were a collection of guys who had not been playing their instruments for very long. The songwriting was void of any editing or self-criticism, which caused the songs to go on and on for what seemed like days. We made a record at a studio in Vineland, New Jersey, at a little house in the middle of the woods and I still have it on my iPod to this day. A couple of the songs (most notably “Pointless” and “Journey Home”) still make me smile when I listen to them. Oh, and I had very short hair that was dyed bleach blonde. No, you may not see a picture.

Photo by Richelle Charlie

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Surprisingly, and much to the shock and chagrin of millions of fans around the world, Falling Out of Line broke up. I was in school full time and I decided that I would just continue making music on my own instead of with a band, both for the sake of time consumption and to allow myself to become a better songwriter. It is a lot easier to go through trial and error in art without having three or four other voices buzzing in your ear. By this point I had taught myself how to play drums and piano, as well. Over the course of about a year, I wrote and recorded a project on my own, performing all of the instrumentation myself, which I called “Undeclared.” It was obvious that I had grown as a songwriter and with the freedom to do what I wanted, I began to use more experimentation with vocal harmonies and musical bridges. I went to a company in town and had them make me one hundred copies of the CD of which I sold about 50. I used a picture of my cat, Noopy, as the front cover. In my heart, I knew the record was the first real step I was taking towards a career in music and I wanted my little buddy to be a part of the memory.

2002 is when I formed my first serious band. I had dove head first into the whole Drive-Thru Records era of pop punk rock music and I wanted desperately to be a part of it. (Side note: Finch just came on randomly on my iTunes as I was typing that last sentence. Crazy.) I had been writing a lot of stuff that molded well into that genre and I decided to play some of it for my lifelong friend, Nick Onorato (yes, the same Nick Onorato of Falling Out of Line fame.) He and I had always listened to the same music and he loved what he heard. TLE (The Legitimate Excuse) was born. I am not going to go into too much detail in this blog about TLE because, as I promised a couple of weeks ago, I am going to post a MySpace music page with old pictures, songs, and a history of the band. The one thing I will say is that, while I obviously love Alesana, my bandmates, and the success we have achieved together, nothing in the musical world will ever hold a stronger place in my heart than the years I spent in TLE. It not only shaped me as a musician, but as a person as well. Leaving TLE was one of the hardest decisions I have ever had to make in my life. Breaking up the band meant letting a best friend down and it hurt my heart to leave him behind; but life takes everyone down different roads and I knew I was making the best decision for me. Nick is currently living in Maryland working a successful job with an awesome wife and a beautiful little girl named Donovan. We all succeed in different ways and I could not be more proud of him. (For the whole story, keep your eyes and ears open for the release of myspace.com/thelegitimateexcuse.)

OK. Alesana. The story of Alesana. Here it goes. Wait…not today. Why, you ask? I am making a film documentary that spans the entirety of Alesana’s career. And if told you now, the fun would be spoiled. I know…I am sneaky.

So onto the fun part: this week’s question. I think I will do the usual and stick with the present material. What one experience in your life is so memorable that, despite how long ago it happened, feels like it was only yesterday. We will make the time frame at least one year. I do not want to hear answers like “Warped Tour 2010!!” or “the pastrami sandwich I had last week!” Let’s dig deep here people and find some awesome memories to share. If you are not comfortable with sharing, or if you are having trouble conjuring up a memory, tell me about your best friend. Why are they your best friend? Are you their best friend? Why? Answering all questions makes you awesome, by the way.

Song quote of the week:

“If we survive and I’m alive I’d like to say how beautiful I think you are.” – “Island” by the Starting Line

Beating 241 comments will be tough, so I will forgive you if we do not reach that plateau. But that is not a donated excuse for us not to try! Until next week, my final Warped Tour blog, I ask you all to call a friend you have not talked to in far too long. You will be surprised how happy they will be just to hear your voice. xo

Photo by Richelle Charlie

Allow me to begin by saying that I was blown away by your responses last week. I honestly read each and every one of them and I still cannot believe how many of you took the time to share your thoughts. Thank you. Oh, and just a heads up. I am in a very hyper mood today, which is causing my thoughts to race about a million miles a second. Needless to say, keeping this week’s blog to only one idea or concept is pretty much an impossibility. If you are lucky, I might label each section. Maybe not. Probably not.

I am going to be a super-fan for a moment, if I may? I recently met Ace Enders (formerly of the Early November, currently of I Can Make a Mess Like Nobody’s Business). He is playing the Warped Tour this year on the same stage as we are, which still does not feel real to say, even as I write it down. He watched us play one day, and, no joke, his exact words were: “Wow. I feel tougher just having watched that set.” How cool is that? I have looked up to Ace for years. I used to put “The Room’s Too Cold” into the stereo in my car and blast “Ever So Sweet” as loud as I could and sing my heart out. I remember thinking how cool it must be to have written a song that was so good and so powerful that it led people to make fools out of themselves in their cars (me = that very same fool). Even more important, he is a great person and a kind soul. He is the definition of humility, which is something I strive to become as a musician and an entertainer. In my mind there is no better quality that an artist can possess.  

Student Rick meets Slick Shoes meets Name Taken. If I had to define my first real band, that is the comparison I would have to make. I loved all three of those bands, and still do. Sadly, Student Rick only made one record. Name Taken made more than one, but only the last one ever received any recognition in the public eye. Slick Shoes made a bunch. Wow, I am rambling.

I am not a very religious person, but I definitely believe that there is something that exists beyond our understanding. It is my belief that the term God is something we lend to the possibility of something so powerful that it is beyond the comprehension of the human mind. I do not believe he is a guy sitting on a cloud in a white robe smiting the wicked and embracing the blessed. However, I most certainly believe that we were created by someone or something. I am not so vain as to believe that the beginning and the end rests in the hands on mankind alone.  

Is it OK to laugh if you watch someone trip on their own shoelace? I am not saying it would be funny if they actually fell and hurt themselves. But I think I would laugh if they just stumbled a little bit. Tell you what, if you ever see me trip on my own shoelace, feel free to laugh.

I am going to jump back to religion quickly, but this time in a more lighthearted fashion. When God created Earth, do you think he hid practical jokes everywhere? For example, when it rains, it is our instinct as human beings to run for cover. I am sure God thought of this, so he gave us big, tall trees to hide beneath. But the most readily available thing for lightning to strike would be this very same big, tall tree. I would like to think that God has a sense of humor. I mean come on, a hammerhead shark? Really, God?

“This is what living like this does. This is what living like this does. This is what living like this does.” Damn, the first Taking Back Sunday record is so good.

If you are a writer and are ever experiencing writer’s block, I feel your pain. Sometimes the words are just not there. Sometimes every idea, every sentence just feels hackneyed and mundane. One trick that I have used in the past and have found pretty good success with, is to write with a pen and paper instead of on a computer. I know it is 2010 and the thought of doing anything by hand sounds archaic, but trust me it works. Using the pen and paper technique causes you to write slower and consequently gives your mind more time to relax and adjust. Instead of stressing about having nothing to say, you will concentrate more on the physical act of writing and before you know it you will have written a couple of pages. Even if it is total crap, at least you got something down and gave your mind a chance to breathe. Also, when using the pen, never cross anything out. Writing on a computer literally goes hand in hand with the delete key (a function we all use far too much) causing us to sometimes suffocate potential ideas. Once in a while, go back and read through what you wrote down on paper. You may be surprised how much an idea can seem like a plethora of garbage one day and a pirate’s treasure the next.

Most poorly used word in the English language? Literally. Thank you, David Cross.{pagebreak}

Five bands that shaped my high school years: The Movielife, Lagwagon, MxPx, Riverfenix, and Slick Shoes.

The No. 1 thing not to ask a band to sign? A wet wife-beater. The No. 1 cause of passing out at Warped Tour? Not drinking water. The No. 1 thing never to say to a band? I love your record, I downloaded it off LimeWire. The No. 1 worst thing to paint on your chest at Warped Tour? Free hugs. It is 100 degrees outside, the last thing most people want to do is hug you, trust me. The No. 1 best thing you can do at Warped Tour? Support your local bands. All of your favorite bands were at one time a local band somewhere, and without the support of their hometown they would not be where they are today.

Do you ever find yourself getting mad at the guy who first said, “If a tree falls in the woods and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?” I do. On the contrary, I would love to hug the guy who first said, “If the shoe fits.”

Phew. I feel like I just sprinted for an hour. I have never written so fast in my life. I hope I did not lose any of you with my lack of paragraph transitions. But, come on. Sometimes it is fun to be all over the place. Have you ever jumped around in your underwear to your favorite CD while cleaning your bedroom? This blog was the weekly writing piece version of that scenario. And who the heck does not like jumping around their bedroom clad in underoos listening to some killer music? I will be honest, if I get to heaven and at the gate I am told that for eternity I will get to do this, I do not think I will be disappointed.

This week’s question is a two-part question in which the two parts have absolutely nothing to do with one another. At all. For some strange reason that feels appropriate today. The first part brings us straight back to the underwear dance. What record is playing during your dance? The second part: Which feeling theoretically knocks your socks off more? Meeting the person of your dreams or the anticipation of maybe meeting them one day? Why?

I am going to try to do something a little different this week. The amount of comments I have been receiving on these blogs is just astounding. Let’s challenge ourselves, shall we? If we can get up to 150 comments on this week’s blog, I will answer this week’s question myself in the form of a comment! I know you have to be at least a little bit curious as to what record gets me jumping around my house like a crazy person. Let’s do it guys!

Song quote of the week:

“Looking out across the night-time, the city winks a sleepless eye. Hear her voice shake my window, sweet seducing sighs.” —“Human Nature” by Michael Jackson

Oh, I almost forgot to mention that I have started putting together a MySpace page for my old band. I hope to have it ready early this fall. Thank you for urging me to do this. Until next time friends, remember that making your bed in the morning sucks but the feeling of crawling into a freshly made bed at night is hard to beat.

Photo of Shawn Milke courtesy of Ave Barr

"I Brought My Own Fork"

I love food. Recently, I was looking through my phone to show someone a picture and I realized that every picture I took was one of three things: dogs, gear, and food. Well I won’t be bringing a fork to the dog blog, so it should be clear which subject this is about. Let’s get to my first discovery of the tour. Maybe it’s a little strange to discuss beverages in my first installment of the blog, but I want to do this chronologically.

Right next to Conservatory in Oklahoma City is Size Records. They started as a pretty awesome record store with some comics. But as most of you downloaders know, record sales are plummeting. So Size Records decided to supplement their income with a plethora of exotic sodas. Normally I try to stay away from the stuff, but this place was overflowing with so many interesting and delicious sodas that I had no choice but to go bananas. Between our merch guy/tour manager Justin, Greg and myself, we bought ten drinks. Not all sodas, but all very anticipated by us.

Virgil’s Root Beer, Special Edition Bavarian Nutmeg
We had all tried Virgil’s before. The nice people at the brewing company even offer this root beer in a keg. I’ve never been too impressed with their beverage though. We were told this special edition was imported and a bottle that may have been around 24 oz was $6.50. A pretty steep price for good old RB. The end result was that it tasted about the same as its American counterpart.

Jeff’s Orange Dream Soda
This is an orange cream based on an egg cream. I’ve been told this idea originated at Jewish delis in New York. This might be the most satisfying and delicious soda I have ever had. It’s like a dessert. Maybe second only to…

Jeff’s Vanilla Soda
This doesn’t even taste like a soda. Drinking Jeff’s Vanilla Soda is almost like a milkshake. It’s creamy and sweet, but not too rich. Quite possibly my favorite soda of all time. If you find this somewhere, you owe it to yourself to try it.

Kickapoo Joy Juice
I bought this mainly for the name. Kickapoo Joy Juice? Sounds ridiculous. Taste lies somewhere in between Mello Yello and Mountain Dew. With a bit more citrus.

Manhattan Special Espresso Coffee Soda
Justin bought this because he loves coffee and anything coffee-flavored. I love coffee as well, but this drink is a perversion of its flavor. These people apparently love coffee and soda. Well I love tiramisu and pulled pork, but you know.

Ed & Pete’s Old Fashioned Lemonade
This is quite possibly the best lemonade I’ve ever had. I’ve never really been a big lemonade drinker, but since having this, I keep ordering lemonade at restaurants and buying it at stores, though none of them compare. Ed & Pete’s Old Fashioned Lemonade is the perfect mix of sweet and tart flavors. So good I wanted to punch my own face.

Almduder 50 Jahre Ginger Ale
I’m told this is the “official drink of Austria.” I’m not sure how true that is, but this isn’t bad. The ginger flavor is a bit subtle and it’s not that sweet. Most ginger ales are either on the ginger-heavy end of the spectrum or the sweet end. This one is outside of that spectrum. A light drink that would probably compliment a meal dominated by bold tastes.

Empire Iced Tea
This iced tea is bottled by the same company as Ed & Pete’s lemonade. Like the lemonade, the quality is high. It’s a pretty refreshing iced tea. We made our own Arnold Palmer out of these two and needless to say, it was delicious.

Grown Up Soda Dry Cola
Here we have some cola without a whole lot of sugar. The taste of the cola nut is strong. I actually love this. If this was more accessible, I would drink it often.

Alfresco
Alfresco is, without a doubt, the most interesting soda of the lot. Mainly because one of the ingredients is elderflowers. Their slogan is “taste the summer!” which is quite literal. Elderflower extract, limeflower extract, carbonated water and apple juice make up the majority of Alfresco’s taste. I first opened the rusty can (most likely due to being ignored by shop patrons for a long time) and noticed the intense and unusual aroma. I’d be lying if I didn’t say it was a little sickening. The initial taste was subtly fruity and the aftertaste had a bit more flower presence. The drink is actually somewhat refreshing if you’re willing to try something new.

Photos by Justin Hiltz

This week I am going to begin a bit off-topic. Well, off of the original topic that I had in mind anyway. In the end, this first paragraph will feel disjointed from the rest of the piece, but this is something I would love to share if that is OK. I may have mentioned this in a prior blog so if I am in fact repeating myself, I apologize. “PMA”: Positive Mental Attitude. Every member of Alesana has it tattooed somewhere on their body. It is the mantra we live by, the state of mind that has led us to our success in both music and in life. I have the urge to mention this today because I just sat and watched our merchandise retailer, Henri Pickersgill, get “PMA” tattooed on his wrist. It has officially made him a part of our family. When he first mentioned the idea to me I, in turn, asked him why he wanted the tattoo. He said, “Because you guys are great people. I love what it means to you and how you actually live your lives in that manner.” About a year ago, Henri was involved in a terrible accident. We were on tour in Europe (Henri is from England) and a bunch of us were out having a good time. He and a friend began a friendly wrestling match and within several minutes Henri slipped and threw out his hip. The nerve was within an inch of severing completely which would have put him in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. I will never forget how he looked that night when we took him to the emergency room. He was in hospital scrubs drinking a beer with a big smile on his face. “I’ll be back on my feet before you know it.” In hindsight, we were more terrified than he was. An injury so severe could have kept Henri off of his feet for a very long time, but he battled and worked through rehab faster than lightning. It is a pleasure knowing someone like him and the courage he showed through such a difficult time is both admirable and heroic. Never underestimate the power of a positive mental attitude. OK, now onto this week’s blog.

Finding an identity is tough. Who am I? Where do I fit in? What am I good at doing? What will people remember about me after meeting me? Jocks, geeks, hippies, brainiacs, skaters, punks, metalheads, teacher’s pets. What crap. Who cares? Honestly. Do you know why we care? Because we are conditioned to care. As a society in general we are shaped from a young age to fit in somewhere. When I was in high school I played baseball, I had a 4.0, I played guitar, I dated a girl who lifeguarded and surfed, and my best friend was, for lack of a better term, a thug. Not a very good kid, but I loved him just the same. I am not just listing these things to say, “Hey, look at me and what I did.” I am trying to illustrate a point about fitting in to a certain category, especially as a teenager. By definition, I was a mutt. In the standards of typical cliques and clichés, I should not have been able to bridge all of those gaps. But it worked, because I believed in doing what I wanted to do regardless of what the people in those groups had in mind. I was never the most popular kid in school, not even close. I definitely floated somewhere in the middle of that category, but popularity never mattered to me. If I spent my energy worrying about where I stood on the totem pole in the eyes of people who only cared about their status, then I would have missed out on so many valuable things to learn and achieve. Forget what everyone says and thinks. Worry only about how you feel about yourself. Believe in yourself. If you paint, paint. If you sing, sing. If you like to dance, then dance. If you like science, study your ass off and become a doctor. If you follow your heart and your dreams I promise one day Johnny Popular will be valet-parking your car.

The same mentality holds true with music and the “scene.” It breaks my heart when I see kids flipping their middle fingers and cussing at bands while they are onstage. Man, this band isn’t metal enough. Where are the breakdowns? This band screams too much. This band doesn’t scream enough. Blah, blah, whine, whine. If you are listening to music simply to look cool then do us all a favor and get lost. And here is a crazy idea. If you do not like a band or their music then DO NOT LISTEN TO IT. Nobody forces you to buy a CD, or illegally download a record. (Disclaimer: Do not illegally download music. Ever.), or stand at a stage and watch a performance. Obviously, not everyone is going to like everything: the mere idea is ludicrous. But showing up just to hate is a waste of everybody’s time, especially your own. Don’t forget, hating something is easy. It is loving something that takes true dedication and character.{pagebreak}

Above all else, music is supposed to mean something; it is supposed to come from the heart, from the soul. That is all I have ever asked of any band I have listened to. The second a band starts lying to themselves, then they are lying to us and that is when it becomes unfair. Please just believe in your music and do not try to sell me regurgitated nonsense. That is one thing I can confidently say about my own band, Alesana. What you see is what you get. We have never promised to be anything but what we are; a bunch of guys who like making music together. We love telling stories, creating new worlds within our music, and so that is what we do. Despite some pressure from management, labels, critics, and even our fans, we have never strayed from the path that we have chosen to take with our art. Our argument is simple: If you do not like us, then do not worry about us. The only thing that matters to us when we rest our heads on our pillows at night is that Alesana likes Alesana, and I think it really shows in our music and in our performances. We love our band, we love our music, and we love playing together. Support from our fans (the greatest fans on earth, by the way) is just the icing on the cake. We are on this journey with one another and anyone who wants to come along for the ride is more than welcome; but it is important to realize that we are going with or without you. We do not ask for approval, only for understanding. We are who we are and we are damn proud of being Alesana.

That brings me back to identity. What does identity truly mean? So many people will tell you that it is how others perceive you. I am sure most of you would identify me as the singer-guitarist from Alesana, and you of course would not be wrong. But I am much more than that. If you are the kid who gets good grades in school, that is probably how others will see you. Who cares? How do you see yourself? That is what is important, that is what matters. Understand your strengths and your flaws equally. Never be ashamed of the things that you are good with and never make excuses for the things that give you are hard time. Make your choices and be confident. I was told by many people in high school that I was an average guitar player and an even worse singer. Maybe they were right, maybe they were wrong. The point is, their version of me was not the version of me that I saw in the mirror, the version of me in my heart. I know my strengths, I know my weaknesses, and I will never let anyone identify me but me. Paint those paintings, sing those songs, ace those exams. Find yourself and make yourself proud. And never be afraid to lean on a friend.

A little side note before I go, I have been curious about something for a while. My iPod is on shuffle right now, and my old band just came on randomly. Do you think creating a MySpace and posting some old pics and songs from that band might be something you guys would be into? Let me know, I think it could be fun.

Song quote of the week:

“It’s just another stretch of highway, I never asked for ordinary. Time and time change. If I rewrote this it might just sound the same.” – “Dare To” by Spitalfield

This week’s question:

What is one thing you dream of accomplishing one day? I hope to someday turn one of my stories into a film and write the score with my friend Adam Fisher. Your turn…

Photo of Shawn Milke courtesy of Ave Barr

Dearest (love) reader, I hope this (message) blog finds you well (Last Three Letters, anyone?). Your responses to last week’s question were so candid, open, and honest. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for not only reading, but for sharing your experiences.

I have been writing since I was a kid. I would write scripts in my little notebook that had a picture of the Ultimate Warrior (by far my favorite wrestler) on the front. They were not much, obviously. Just a few scribbles of characters names, a small description of a setting, and, if I was feeling motivated, maybe a small plot of some sort. To be honest, I sometimes read back through them only to find that they were essentially just knockoffs of films that already existed, albeit with a few minor changes here and there. Come on, cut me some slack—I was 11 years old. After “the script” was finished, I would film the story with my sister and childhood best friend, as the three acted out the plot, with each of us playing multiple characters. My camera was one of those very old, very large VHS video cameras. The quality of the image was terrible, the acting awful, and the script completely ignored. I would spend hours following the award-winning performance, “editing” the movie by attaching two VCRs together, playing the movie with one and recording the changes with the other. I was even able to add a soundtrack afterwards by recording the TV screen with a new tape in the camera and playing music with my stereo in the background. I would then cook popcorn and force my family to watch the movie. They were so good at pretending to love every second, and it always made me smile. Their support kept me motivated. It is amazing how much parents can influence the direction and success of their children.

As I grew older, my writing carried over into my schoolwork. I took several advanced-placement writing courses and by my senior year achieved the highest score in my class during college-placement exams for writing. In college, I majored in Business Management while minoring in Creative Writing. It is strange because, despite my success and talent, I never really put my entire self into writing. Growing up and all through high school, all I wanted to do was play baseball. I was good at it, the girls seemed to dig it, and therefore that is where my priorities were held. After graduating, I had the option to play ball in college but, after days and days of pondering, I made the decision to pursue life outside of sports. High-level athletics are the definition of devotion, with three-a-day practices and the challenge of maintaining studies, and while I still love baseball with all of my heart, the desire to see what else life had to offer took a hold of me. A big reason for my decision stems back to the writing I did as a kid and something that my Aunt Cheryl said to me when I was maybe 12 or 13 years old: “Never quit writing. No matter where you go in life, always write. You have a God-given gift, and it would be wrong to give that up and not share it with others.” I promised myself to never forget her advice, which, of course, became hard during my teenage years. But doesn’t everything seem to be hard when you are a teenager?

As I grew into adulthood, barely escaping the years of puberty, hormones, acne, SATs and the catch-and-release of my first love, her advice came storming back to me. Write. Always write. So I did. Only not quite the way we maybe had in mind all of those years ago. I had learned how to play guitar, piano, and drums. I wrote songs, and a lot of them. Over the course of about three years I wrote and recorded five albums worth of material for three different bands that I put together. Then, as many of you may already know, I formed Alesana in 2004 and since that day have written one EP and three full-length records. I am currently writing material for the fourth Alesana LP and also for two other projects called Wake Me Up, Juliet and Tempting Paris. The crazy thing is, even after writing over 100 songs, the itch to write stories still existed within me. Songwriting is a beautiful and amazing experience, but I still felt like that was not what my Aunt Cheryl was talking about. “Never quit writing.” She was not talking about songs, even though she is proud of my success as a songwriter. What she was truly talking about was prose. Stories. Experiences. Characters. Plot. I finally understood. Hence, “The Emptiness”: My first printed, creative piece of story writing. I was nervous as hell to write that story. But her words gave me the strength see it through to the end. And now I am half way through my first novel. Thank you, Aunt Cheryl.

My most definitive flaw as a writer, though I would not necessarily consider it to be a flaw, is procrastinating. I take everything down to the wire, so to speak. As painful as procrastinating can be, I just cannot seem to hate it. So many things that I have accomplished, written, and created have been due to putting it off until the last minute. Maybe it is the pressure. Or maybe that is just my excuse. Either way, it is a system that works for me. Does my publicist (the one and only Jenny Reader) get stressed out hunting me down for my work? I am going to hazard a guess and say…yes. And for this I most certainly do apologize. But the one thing I can guarantee is that I will never hand in something that is not 100-percent honest, from the heart, and completely a part of me. I take my writing very seriously and I would never want to let anyone down just to say that I handed it in on time. Is that maybe a teeny bit irresponsible? Oh, yeah. But I also never iron my clothes, I sometimes forget to brush my teeth before bed, I stay in the shower even if I know I am late for something, I wear the same underwear for what some would consider far too long, and I tend to leave the coffeepot on all day. I am not here to tell lies. Lies are a waste of everyone’s time. I handed this blog in late. I am sorry, honestly I am. But I would have been more sorry to hand in a story that I would not have been proud to share with all of you.

That leads me to this week’s question! What is one irresponsible thing that you did this week? And what did you do to remedy your mistake? I think I will send my publicist some flowers. She deserves it for putting up with my tardiness.

Song Quote of the Week:

“And even though I’d always dreamed of going to the stars, in space all I think about is you and me” —“In Space” by Ludo

You know what’s funny? There was something I really wanted to say when I first sat down to begin writing this blog. But now I can’t seem to remember what it was. Oh well, I’ll get to it later. Maybe.

Photo of Shawn Milke courtesy of LiveNLoud.com.

Hello, all. Is it Wednesday already? My, oh my, how time does fly. Thank you for the incredible amount of responses to the question at the conclusion of last week’s blog. It is a pretty awesome feeling to see how many of you take the time to read my writing and actually take steps to become actively involved. So again, thank you.

This was definitely a week of ups and downs. Then again, I guess the same can be said about life in general; a collection of ups and downs, highs and lows. The key, for me at least, is not allowing the lows to get me too far down and never letting the highs to escape unnoticed. Sometimes it is the memory of the high that keeps the low in check. There is a film I love called The Story of Us, starring Bruce Willis and Michelle Pfeiffer. Ostensibly, the film is about a couple and their journey from friendship and courtship to marriage and parenthood. However, if you dig deeper you will find that the story is actually much more about the push and pull, the give and take of everyday life. There is one particular scene in the movie that hooked me during my first watch. The family is sitting around the dinner table when the father, played by Willis, asks everyone for their “high/low” of the day. They then takes turns sharing their high moment and low moment of the day. Clearly, the scene is generated to showcase the health of communication and the tight bond that the family shares with one another. But I walked away from the film with a new outlook on life. This touching, little romantic comedy from Rob Reiner (the director of Spinal Tap, by the way. Um? Awesome?) managed to genuinely change me. To this day, I write down my high and my low each night before bed. OK. I lied. Maybe not every single night. But I do it quite frequently. The point I am making is that this exercise has helped me to more greatly appreciate the good things in life while simultaneously helping me to realize that there is no need to be scared of the lows. They will happen. That is life. It is how we react to the lows, and whether or not we allow them to dictate our decisions and our adventures, that truly defines us as individuals. The low is the challenge; the high is the reward.

If I may, I would like to share with you several experiences I had this week. They may be highs, they may be lows, but in the end it does not matter. All I know for sure is they were experiences, which means another small piece of me has been molded.

1. Crackhead

I cracked a rib in Saint Louis. Ouch. And when I say ouch, I truly mean it. It is awful. It hurts to laugh, cough, sneeze, walk, sleep, breathe. You name it, and it hurts to do it. So I am sure you can imagine how badly it hurts to perform thirty minutes on stage. In Montreal I actually had to play with a rib-wrap, which essentially is just medical gauze wrapped around my rib cage. It felt very awkward and in the end I am not quite sure if it made matters better or worse. Either way, the show must go on. After performing, I walked around the festival and ran into a fan of ours. He was wearing an Alesana shirt from a tour that traveled several years ago, which always makes me smile. I love seeing old shirts and meeting fans who have been around for the long haul with us. After 10 minutes of conversation he elected to tell me the story of how he ended up in a wheelchair. It is not my place to reveal the details of his pain, that would be for him to decide. What I can say is that standing there listening to him bravely share personal details of his life made me realize how silly I had been for complaining during the days following my rib injury. This man’s life had been completely flipped upside down in the blink of an eye and still he held onto his strength and courage to face life head on. I decided to ask him his high/low for the day. After explaining to him what I meant he proceeded to tell me that his high was definitely seeing all of his favorite bands play at Warped Tour. His low? “I don’t have a low today, man,” he said. “How could I ever feel low on a great day like this?” And I was moping over a broken rib. I guess we sometimes lose track of the sun when there are clouds in the sky.

2. Please Secure All Loose Articles

Yesterday, I rode roller coasters! We were selected to take part in an event at Six Flags in New England. We did a signing for fans, had our song and music video played throughout the park, and in return we were given free entry into the park and this little contraption that allowed us to skip all of the lines. Wait a minute. Did I just say in return? We were rewarded for doing something that I already consider awesome. People lined up in the blazing sun just to meet us because they like our music. If anyone in a band ever considers meeting their fans at an amusement park work then they are pretentious and completely out of their minds. I drank a beer in my bathing suit and laughed at Dennis as they turned down his ID because he was out of state and under 25, which, by the way, is one of the most ridiculous rules I have ever encountered. It did not stop me from teasing him the rest of the day, though. I rode the lazy river, swam in a wave pool, and tumbled down water slides. I rode the Six Flags–proclaimed “World’s Greatest Steel Roller Coaster in the World” called Bizarro. Insane. The second time around I was the odd man out in our group and was stuck riding alone, until a fan who happened to be waiting in line offered to ride with me. She claimed to be more excited than me, but then again I don’t think she realized how scared I was to ride alone. Well, not scared. I just did not want to ride alone. Or maybe I’m just telling myself that. You and I may never know. The guys then suggested we ride Blizzard River and, of course, I was the only one who got soaked head to toe. Don’t worry, I had just changed into my jeans. I spent the rest of the evening in a medium t-shirt, and for those of you who have never met me in person, use your imagination of what a guy who fits into a girl’s large t-shirt would look like wearing a medium. After the park closed, we returned to the bus and watched low-budget horror films, headlined by Slaughter High. Yesterday was a good day. A very good day. I fell asleep laughing at the image of myself in that giant t-shirt and wet jeans because if you do not laugh at yourself then you are missing out on some of life’s best jokes.

3. This Time Is the Last Time

Of all of the highs and lows of my week there is one that definitely stands out the most. Mae announced that they will be doing a farewell tour this fall: the “Goodbye, Goodnight” tour. A band that has shaped my mind and my life in too many ways to count will soon be no more. I am not ashamed to admit that I cried a little when I read the email from their official site. My puppy is named Mae. I have lyrics from the song that they named the farewell tour after on the back of my left arm. The Alesana song “Goodbye, Goodnight, for Good” was named to pay homage to their inspiration in my music. I feel like a little piece of me has died. But, as I woke up the morning after hearing the news, I realized that I could not stay upset. Mae has given so much and asked for absolutely nothing in return. They created music that has altered my life in unimaginable ways and, what’s more, is they never seemed to stray off the path that they paved for themselves. Mae believed in every song they wrote, in every album they constructed. They even spent an entire year releasing music solely to raise money to help people in need. Mae truly are angels among men and thank you simply does not do justice for what I want to say to them. You will be missed by many. I wish you well in everything you do from this point on in life. Goodbye, Goodnight.

Oh, I almost forgot. I am going to start a song quote of the week. This week it feels fitting to use the Mae lyric that I have tattooed on my arm. As I said earlier, it comes from the song “Goodbye, Goodnight”.

“This force is driving me to test the speed of light.” —Mae

This week’s question?

What was your high/low for the week?

Until next time loyal readers, and to those new to the family: Stay safe, stay healthy, and always remember to tell your parents that you love them.

The kind folks at Revolvermag.com have asked me once again to write a weekly blog on their website for the duration of the Vans Warped Tour. I would like to thank them as well as you, the readers, for welcoming me back.

Since my last blog, I spent six weeks touring Europe, which was amazing. The languages are confusing, the food generally subpar, the time zone six hours off, the weather cloudy with a chance of rain nearly every day, and the money… well let’s just say I had to exchange six different currencies when I returned to the good old “You Ess’ of Ay.” In spite of it all, I loved every second of it. I saw things that even my wildest dreams could not conjure or create. I ate spaghetti carbonara’ one block away from the Roman Coliseum, dipped my feet in the bluest river in France, took a walking tour through the historic sites of Madrid, wandered the streets of Prague by myself under a full moon, took a picture in front of the Mediterranean Sea off the coast of Barcelona, and, most importantly, was blessed with the opportunity to play for our international fans at sold-out rock shows.

Taking a step back to see just how far Alesana’ has come can sometimes be difficult. The everyday hustle and grind of touring can really make time fly by, which, in turn, makes it increasingly important to slow myself down once in a while. Think of it like a picture that you take with your mind. I remember standing on a bridge in Prague around midnight, staring off into the beautiful night sky; and please believe when I say that it was one of the most breathtaking things I have ever witnessed in my life. I had my camera with me, but I chose not to take a picture. Instead, I just stood there and thought back to our very first show as Alesana’.

It was at a place called Martin Street Music Hall. There were five bands on the bill, and, without including friends and girlfriends, about 10 people there to see the show. As I stood on that ancient bridge reminiscing, the question that started to burn in the back of my mind was, How’ did I get here? If I could somehow talk to the Shawn playing that show nearly six years ago, would he believe me when I spoke of the adventures he had waiting ahead of him? That he would one day be standing above the city lights and sounds’ of Prague thinking back to the very moment that he was now experiencing? Even as I sit here writing this, I can still picture that bridge so perfectly; the water below, the stars above, the statues’ and monuments surrounding me. No one else but me will ever know exactly what that night looked like at the exact moment as I stood seemingly above the world. The only picture to document the view is stored deep inside my memory for no one but me to see.

Let us move on to the Warped Tour. Ahh’’, the Warped Tour.’ Sticky, sweaty, hot, amazing Warped Tour. Two months of the most grueling, exhausting, fast-paced touring there is: and as a touring musician, there is nowhere else I would rather be spending my summer. Picture it as a giant family reunion; bands we have toured with in the past, crew members’ we have worked with, friends we rarely see. It is the place to be for two months out of the year. But let us go back to how Alesana’ arrived at this year’s tour in the first place. We rented what is called a bandwagon. Essentially, it is a mini-bus. It has big, comfy bunks, a full working shower, two couches, satellite television, and a kitchen. Not too shabby.

New vehicle in place, we decided that we wanted to keep the experience new and fresh, which can be hard to do after touring the U.S. for five years straight. The decision was made to do a cross-country drive. North Carolina to California.’ Five days. wo thousand, five hundred, and sixty miles.’ To most, the task would seem daunting; but we were strangely excited. We had been on break for six weeks which meant the trip would give us a good chance to spend some time together and bond without having to play shows. And it gave us the chance to get our new guitarist, Alex Torres, acclimated to the ways of Alesana’. I wonder if he knows what he has gotten himself into.

Anyway, it was five of the best days of my life. It was just me, my boys, and the open road’. It was the kind of road trip they write movies about. Upon arriving to Carson, California, for rehearsal day, I excitedly removed cross-country road trip with friends off of my list of dreams to make come true. And again, no pictures.’ I can instantly be there again whenever I close my eyes and return to the memory.

Settling into Warped can sometimes take a few days, especially after a break from touring. Set times are entirely random creating the challenge of getting your body ready to play at any time from 11:00 a.m. ­– 8:00 p.m. The heat is another obvious obstacle to overcome. Club venues can get extremely hot, don’t get me wrong, but nothing can match the heat of the summer sun. On average, it generally takes us about four or five shows to get comfortably back into the habit and routine of Warped. This year, on the same day we found our stride, we were invited to join the Warped Tour documentary crew for some behind-the-scenes footage. It was exciting enough just to be a part of the film, but little did we know what we headed for.

The crew took us to White Sands National Monument, which, for anyone who does not know, is a gorgeous desert in the middle of nowhere outside of Las Cruces, New Mexico. They filmed us hanging out in their van on the drive there, throwing a Frisbee around the awe-inspiring sand dunes, jumping down the hills, and they conducted an interview: Hands down the most awesome location for an interview. Ever. Just before we boarded the van to return to Warped, we suggested to the photographer that he take some press photos of us in the desert with the setting sun behind us. No words can describe how mesmeric these photos turned out. Even after nearly six years of being in Alesana’, and over five years of touring, I still see and experience new things that take my breath away. Life is short, and, as they say, you have to soak up it up while you still can. I woke up that morning expecting to play a show, meet some fans, watch the Phillies, eat some dinner, maybe play some NFL Blitz, and then call it a night. Instead, I fell asleep with visions of the beauty I had been introduced to earlier that evening, the views etched in my memory forever. It got me thinking. While no photo can be as powerful as a treasured memory in your mind, some things in life are just too beautiful to not share with people. Having said that, I would like to show you a photo taken with my iPhone’ by my tour manager, Dougie’, while we were doing our press photos in the desert.

For my blogs this time around I am going to close with a question each week about something that has truly changed my (your) life. I am not talking about the simple things like a really hot shower after a long day at work, or finding twenty bucks on the sidewalk, or getting exactly what I (you) asked for at Christmas, although these things are pretty awesome. What I am asking is for you to share something that has affected your life in a positive way and has stuck with you ever since. Something that has helped mold’ you into the person that you are today. As always, I will do the same.

This week’s question?

What one record changed your life?

My answer: Destination Beautiful by Mae. I could explain but I am already working on one novel as it is. Until next time, stay safe, stay healthy, and go pick up one piece of recyclable trash off of the ground. A little bit goes a long way. PMA.

Remember Pee-Wee’s Playhouse? So Mr. Herman had this “word of the day”-type gag where everyone goes invariably apeshit whenever the pre-ordained word was so much as whispered. Well, I play a little word-of-the-day game with myself*. Every time I hear the word “glam-metal,” I see red. That’s right, I’m hyphenating in case any of you smartasses simply can’t refrain from pointing out “glam metal” is two words. And now I’m gonna pull a Danzig and shorten it up to just glametal. So the topic’s supposed to be why Skid Row is not glametal. Since I can’t just play Slave to the Grind and walk away from this audacious allegation, and since the word word “glam” sends me into a furious frenzy with it’s spurious implications (which never allude to the proper progenitors like T-Rex and Bowie), I guess I’ll have to elaborate and elucidate the all too evident.
 
Skid Row, glam, seriously? PSSHT! Alright, if “Piece of Me” or “Forever” were the only tunes you ever heard from the Skids then I might let you off with a warning. True, the first record oozes a little more of the sap synonymous with crap like some other bands who ruined that era for the rest of us. However, the genuine grit of raw, raging rock bubbles under and permeates every pore of their fledgeling, albeit formulaic debut, and is culminated in their sophomore release. Yeah, so “I Remember You” is a veritable paradigm of the infamous “power ballad,” but a flawless power ballad does not a glam band make. Otherwise, you’d be lumping the illustrious likes of Ozzy and Guns N’ Roses into the same airsick bag of candy-coated, cookie-cutter, pop prattle that was paraded across the radio under the guise of real rock ’n’ roll (much the like of all too many of today’s syndicated sensations). While these songs, the sonic equivalent of a gag-reflex, sullied balladry almost irreparably, Skid Row still came across as something sincere, something of substance. From “18 & Life” to “Qucksand Jesus” to “Into Another,” they came off as something classic. And they came late in the game. Dropping in ’89, they scarcely qualify as even an 80s band, let alone a fucking glam-band. (Much the same as future tourmates Pantera. Heard of ’em?).
 
While hordes of clichéd, carbon-copy clones struggled desperately to suckle from the over-tapped Aerosmith/Van Halen teet, Skid’s roots reached the rich and dirty deposits of Thin Lizzy, Sweet, Slade, and Ted Nugent. And with pipes that could compete with Ian Gillan**, why wouldn’t you flex your chops? Hell, “Monkey Business” is so close to a next gen Nuge track that the Motor City Madman probably had points on Slave to the Grind. I’d be far from befuddled to find that Skid Row bassist Rachel Bolan shared more in common on a genetic level with Ted than Mr. Nugent would like to admit at a child support hearing. Skid Row’s guitarists, Snake Sabo and Scotti Hill, shelled out the shred with licks on the level of Zakk Wylde and Slash, but I feel like they never really gave themselves enough time to shine. They never indulged, ever tasteful in the age of excess…perhaps, even, to their detriment. Just as Pantera would later follow a similar evolution, Skid Row shed their skin to become a progressively heavier, sleazier, slithering beast with every record. With winding and utterly crushing riffs like “My Enemy,” it’s easy to see how Skid played as much a role in the birth of bands like Shadows Fall as did Metallica and In Flames.
 
Now they are, of course, guilty of a little cheese. But as the photo below should illustrate, so was Pantera. So was everybody! Frankly, it’d take a band with some serious balls to release something like “Cowboys from Hell” in this day and age with a straight face and be taken seriously. I mean really listen to the lyrics on that record. Or on “Nightrain,” for that matter. “Hot for Teacher”? SERIOUSLY?! On the whole, if the classics have anything in common it’s that for all their cleverness they’re corny as hell. And they’re all the better for it! Songs about mythic beasts are as silly coming from Mastodon as they are from Manowar, but so long as they are sincere they transcend all kitsch to some celestial echelon of epicness reserved only for the titans who have the brass to pull it off.
 
“He who approaches the temple of the Muses without inspiration in the belief that craftsmanship alone suffices will remain a bungler and his presumptuous poetry will be obscured by the songs of the maniacs.” —Plato
 
Be Shred or Be Ded,
Chris, Taking Dawn
 
* Yes, I am aware I just said I play with myself.
** That’s the legendary lead singer of Deep Purple… Sadly enough, that’s not common knowledge, so I forgive you.

So which one’s the glam-band?