What if you were a HOMELESS CHILD and really had NO SAFE PLACE to go?

"After our show at the House of Blues in New Orleans, a few of us went down to the New Orleans Jazz Festival to see Buddy Guy, king and wild magician of the electric guitar.  I could go on and on about the tears I shed and the chills I got watching him do all those things he taught Jimi Hendrix to do, and with that inimitable tone, feel and a raging totality in each note that I don’t know if I’ve ever truly witnessed before.  I could go on and on and take up five pages with ease.

But instead, I want to relate something he said – not played – to the crowd.  He had just finished a barn-burning rendition of Hoochie Cootchie Man and he wanted to talk for a minute to us straight.  It’s been hard times in the country, in the world, with people out of work and worrying ‘bout how to make it through, Buddy said.  It’s been hard times for even longer in Louisiana (where Buddy’s from).  And, you can still see evidence of that on the rooftops of hundreds of homes still swamped and shuttered by Katrina.  “But, this is good times for me,” he preached, “cause now everyone suddenly wants to listen to the blues!  Hell, I’ve been telling ya all along -- we’ve been playing this shit for 150 years!”

Last December, on my birthday actually, I decided to spend the evening playing my guitar for the children at the Jackson Avenue shelter in the South Bronx.  Every two weeks, as part of a program run by New York Cares, volunteers bring food, craft projects, reading materials – and in my case, music – to children who do not have homes, nor in most cases, families that are able to offer them anything supplemental in the form of time, knowledge, culture – or, unfortunately, caring.

This was my first time volunteering at the shelter.  The plan for the evening was a Christmas party and we put together a songbook of all the favorite carols of the season.  I did not know what to expect, only that my own life at that particular moment in time held a great deal of uncertainty both on a professional and personal level.  As such, I had spent most of the day feeling somewhat sorry for myself – not something of which I am particularly proud – and was looking forward to getting out of myself.

When I arrived at the shelter, there were about 25 children ranging in ages from five to thirteen.  They did not know me but had been alerted that a girl was going to bring in a guitar and they would get to sing along tonight, so many of them dropped their books and gathered around, excited, asking what was in the big black case.  We formed a big circle on the floor, for no one could wait any longer and there was pizza and cupcakes to be eaten, too, and the guitar came out and we started to sing.

To say that these voices were beautiful, these young faces bright and happy like those of angels; that the music and singing was bringing a joy that eclipsed the cinder block-scented walls, the bars on the windows, the burned out tenements that lined the streets outside, I could go on and on for five pages with ease.  And, still I would not adequately describe the illumination of such an experience, just as I am unable to describe the essentialness of the notes coming from Buddy Guy’s guitar.  It has something to do with the exquisiteness of giving.

When the last "partridge in a pear tree" faded to rounds of applause and dancing, the most extraordinary thing happened.  The children launched into a spirited version of Happy Birthday (the head volunteer had clued them in).  They sang with such glee, knowing that they were surprising me; half of them didn’t even know my name – some of them sang “Miss!”  But, it was so filled with love that it brought me to my knees.  These children, who have NOTHING; who have everything in the world to be unhappy about if they so choose, were giving me something so priceless and pure.  It washed away all sadness, all regret, all feelings of remorse and self-pity that I had arrived with at the shelter that night.  It was easily the best birthday I ever had."  ------SP 

How can you help Children’s Enrichment Programs at Jackson Avenue Family Shelter?

Please join Lez Zeppelin as they support this cause to raise funds and awareness necessary for the continuance of the Youth Enrichment Programs
at Jackson Avenue Family Shelter in the South Bronx and other shelters throughout NYC.

Jeff Beck LIVE @ the El Rey w/ Rod Stewart

Leesa of LZ & Mike of the Goo Goo Dolls @ the Key Club

We left LA, sadly, but were rewarded with a great show in San Diego, thanks to a packed and energized crowd at The Belly Up. Now, we’re swinging back East; from Flagstaff Arizona to Santa Fe, where we are presently sitting here in the desert, in what seems like a vast stretch of dirt, buildings and junk yards. (A good place to stash a body, perhaps?) Everything has a terracotta, almost pink cast to it. Standing outside the bus, smoking cigarettes, with the wind blowing and what look like dead trees shivering and sending off the occasional flaxen tumbleweed, the whole scene looks like something you might only be able to capture in mood with a cheap Poloroid camera. It’s weirdly timeless. With mountains in the distance and cars passing on the highway catching the hard sunlight on their windshields, a flock of smiling, tanned guys in ponytails, who rock this joint day to day are moving out our road cases. With its small, unpromising stage, with a lighting guy named, “Babe,” this is our last outpost before Texas. Only one thing to do. That is put on some cowboy boots, have a beer in the afternoon and make this place ours.

Rattlesnakes comin’ at ya.

-SP

Pic(s) Of The Week
WEEK II

http://www.myspace.com/royalhouser
PHOTO BY S FRITZ
http://www.myspace.com/stevensaintcheese

What started on a cool, crisp night in Boston has brought us all the way from Portland, Maine to Portland, Oregon and several points in between. We have seen many old friends and met some new ones, that will now be "Friends Of Ours."

NOTES & SOME STAND-OUTS:

ST LOUIS - Special thanks to Guy @ K-She & all the roller girls

IOWA CITY - EVERYONE @ the Englert Theater + Sandy, Jill & Myra

PORTLAND, OREGON - Awesome place & people - Kudos to the 'Twins'

SEATTLE, WA - 1st time, but we will be back - Just plain SUPER

After a couple more rounds & a nap we will be back at it on Thursday @ THE KEY CLUB in West Hollywood

Luv

-LZ

BY MELEA ANDRYS | APRIL 10, 2009 7:30 AM

Lez Zeppelin: redefining rock as we know it.

In one of the rare moments of downtime in Lez Zeppelin’s scorching set, a guy in the audience threw up devil horns and screamed, “I think I love you.”

The man can’t be blamed for his public display of affection — as soon as Lez Zeppelin slithered onto the Englert’s stage, the four badass bitches who channel the essence of Plant, Page, Jones, and Bonham made it clear that any resistance to their seductive spell would be futile.

The all-female Led Zeppelin tribute band has gained quite a reputation since its 2004 inception. The only tribute band to perform at the Bonnaroo music festival, the group has not only been featured on VH1 and MTV, it has also showered in the praise of a plethora of music critics, including hipster pop-culture journalist Chuck Klosterman.

It’s a shame when bands don’t live up to the hype, but Lez Zeppelin’s woes might only lie in said hype not being laudatory enough. From the sultry lines of the opening number, “Nobody’s Fault But Mine,” it was obvious that Lez Zeppelin’s estrogen-enhanced set would not only be technically spot-on, it would bring Led Zeppelin’s music to another level.

And what an unexpectedly delicious level it was. Though the band tended to overpower the vocals at times, every member’s stellar musical chops were evident: Each was more than capable of tackling the multi-octave screams, (double-neck) guitar licks, and theremin-produced space sounds their male predecessors dared to dream (Steph Paynes even used — and destroyed — a bow to caress her guitar into orgasm).

But possibly even more impressive was each woman’s ability to dominate her quarter of the stage with an unyielding presence. Drummer Leesa Squryes played the quintessential rocker chick in a bandana and ankh pendant (topped off in an Iowa T-shirt, earning major crowd points), bassist Jessica Fagre, donning a corset top and a slick blonde mane, appeared as if she had just stepped off the set of “America’s Next Top Model”, and guitarist/group founder Paynes was decked out in an open jacket over a barely visible bikini and rhinestone butterfly-embellished bellbottoms (one notable insect was positioned squarely on her groin).

Then there was lead singer Kris Bradley. Radiating a multifaceted mixture of coy sensuality and fiery sexuality that was, to be blunt, red fucking hot. Bradley was just as mesmerizing in her full-length fur coat as she was after she stripped it off, revealing ever-gyrating hips and a flare for reflecting the music’s moods through every contour of her body. Her versatile voice added a depth previously unknown to Robert Plant’s signature wails, an aggressive howl than often diminished to a vulnerable moan.

But the genius of Bradley and her bandmates is that Lez Zeppelin freely explores, rather than exploits, the nuances of a complex feminine sexuality on stage. Plant may have given us every inch of his love, but Bradley offers herself as both provider and recipient. Jimmy Page may be able to tear a chord progression to shreds, but Paynes will nurse it back to health — only to inflict more destruction in the end. To be cliché, these women know how to rock. To be provocative, these women are reinventing rock as we know it.

Near the end of the set, a smartass dude from the front row references both the “Lez” of Lez Zeppelin’s name and Iowa’s recent Supreme Court decision, yelling for the ladies to, “Get married while you’re here!”

Though I’m a heterosexual female, I have no hesitation in saying that I would love to forge a lifetime union with any of the babes in Lez Zeppelin anytime.