Jamming With Ambrosia Was 'Nice, Nice, Very Nice'

Earlier this summer, an early birthday treat to myself was getting to see Ambrosia at the Fraze Pavilion in Kettering, a suburb of Dayton, on Friday, July 13. It may have been Friday the 13th, but I felt like one of the luckiest music fans in the world, getting to meet a group whose music I've loved and played nonstop for years and years.

I put Ambrosia's music in the "blue-eyed soul" category, similar to groups who also rose to fame in the '70s like Michael McDonald and the Doobie Brothers, Steely Dan, and Darryl Hall and John Oates. Though these artists’ sound is often classified as "pop," "lite rock" or even "elevator music," it has a strong element of soul and R&B that have won them more than a few African-American fans like myself.

The tickets for Ambrosia were only $5, but fans could pay an extra $35 to gain access to a meet and greet with the band. Needless to say, as a diehard fan, I would have paid much more for this privilege.

To my delight, the guys in the band couldn't have been nicer or more down to earth when I met them. When it was my turn to be ushered in to the dressing room where the guys were greeting fans before the show, I shyly told them, "My name's Chris. I love your music."

They were all very friendly. The current lineup features original members, vocalist/guitarist Joe Puerta, drummer Burleigh Drummond and keyboardist Christopher North and “newbies” Doug Jackson and Rick Cowling.

While taking the photo, the band members told me, "Chris, stand next to Chris," so I wedged myself between Chris and Joe. Burleigh asked if I was a musician, to which I said no (although I've always wished I had learned to play a musical instrument).

The Fraze concert was a wonderful experience all-around -- perfect weather that was sunny and warm yet breezy and not too humid. And the wristband that granted me access to the backstage meet and greet also enabled me to sit in one of the first three rows (I chose to sit in the third row because there was an aisle seat, since my legs are long and I can get claustrophobic at times).

The band performed many of their songs from Anthology, their greatest-hits album that I've listened to over and over throughout the past decade. They opened the show with "Nice, Nice, Very Nice," an upbeat song with lyrics by famed writer Kurt Vonnegut. The number was very appropriate, since the weather was so pleasant and everyone onstage and off seemed happy to be there.

Highlights included an extended, intense version of the ballad "How Much I Feel" and an enthusiastic performance of the feel-good groove "Biggest Part of Me," which got the audience up and dancing, clapping their hands and snapping their fingers. Surprisingly, they performed "You're the Only Woman" early on in the set. One of their biggest hits (and one of my favorite songs of all time), I would have thought they would saved that gem for closer to the end.

After the show, I waited in line to have the guys sign my CD (they didn't sign autographs at the meet and greet before the show to keep things moving as quickly as possible before taking the stage). Once again, Burleigh asked me if I was a musician, to which I replied, "No, I play the radio." Keyboardist Chris pointed out, "If it wasn't for people who play the radio, we wouldn't be where we are today."

The coolest part of the experience was getting to tell the guys how I discovered - or re-discovered their music. As I related to them, in April 2003, I took my grandfather and father figure, whom I called "Daddy Bob," to buy an Easter hat for my grandmother, Pearl. Ambrosia's "You're the Only Woman" was playing on the Muzak at JC Penney in Eastland Mall.

I remembered that song and others by Ambrosia playing on the radio when I was a kid in the '70s. Hearing the soulful, jazzy "You're the Only Woman" on the store's sound system prompted me to go get their greatest hits from the library. I burned a copy of the CD of and proceeded to wear it out over the next few years until I finally broke down and bought an actual copy of the album, knowing it would be money well-spent and a prized possession for many years to come.

That shopping experience with my grandfather was one of my last memories of him, since he died the next year. The fact that I got to meet the band who performed the song that was playing that day in the store with my grandfather, and the fact that they're all so cool and down to earth was one of the most meaningful experiences of my life.  

The only downside to meeting Ambrosia was that original lead singer David Pack, whose soulful voice is featured on "You're the Only Woman," "Biggest Part of Me" and many of the group's biggest hits, no longer tours with the band. Nonetheless, the experience, overall, was nice, nice, very nice.

Don't Judge a Book By Its Cover

Recently stopped in a gas station and paid with cash – something I haven’t done in ages – because I’d just gotten a refund from items I returned to a store.

As I was waiting for the gas station cashier to ring me up, I glanced down at the register and noticed there was an open book beside it.

“What are you reading, if you don’t mind my asking,” I ventured.

As it turns out, this young man was very literate and recommended two interesting books that I plan to check out from the library – a fiction book called “Ishmael” by Daniel Quinn and a nonfiction book called “The Tale of the Shaman’s Apprentice.”

I have to admit, I never would have guessed from initial assessment of this guy, who had tattoos going up his arm, was that he was a very literate person. Just goes to show you can’t judge a book by its cover.

'Boys Town' Was Truly Ahead Of Its Time

Happened upon the classic black-and-white movie “Boys Town” at the library and enjoyed watching it. Spencer Tracy did an excellent job portraying  the real-life Father Edward J. Flanagan, who made it his life’s mission to rescue troubled youths, going so far as to building a city-within-a-city  for them in Omaha, Nebraska.  Mickey Rooney turned in a comical performance as a hard-to-reach teen who, of course, comes around by the end.

The DVD also had the sequel, “Men of Boys Town,” on the flip side. Like a lot of sequels, this one tried a little too hard to capture the magic of the original. For example, the scene with a little boy going in Father Flanagan’s office to hunt for candy was cute in the original but became a bit of a tired gag by the second movie.

Father Flanagan’s trademark philosophy that “there is no bad boy” was truly ahead of its time.

'Royal Pains' Is Enjoyable

Caught a couple of episodes of the USA Network show Royal Pains, about a medical practice in the ritzy Hamptons. I had never heard of the show and was pleasantly surprised by the series, which is well-written, well-cast and well-acted.

It's always a plus to see diversity on television, and Indian actress Reshma Shetty helps check this box as a beautiful, competent physician's assistant.

Rather than focusing on the obscene wealth of the patients that the doctors serve, Royal Pains features relatable storylines about people mistaking certain symptoms for serious illnesses. In one episode, for example, veteran Broadway actress Christine Ebersole plays a woman who swears that she's dying because of back pain that feels like heat shooting up her spine. After the doctors examine her, it turns out that the problem is she was unknowingly driving around with her seat warmers on!

The show balances comedy and drama but has a mostly lighthearted tone. One of the things I like most about Royal Pains is that it's a show for grownups, but it doesn't have a lot of vulgar language and gratuitous sex, which a lot of shows on cable feel they need to resort to in order to attract viewers. I don't consider myself a prude, but it was nice to watch a show while I was visiting good friends and not have to feel embarrassed when their kids came in the room.

My diagnosis for Royal Pains is that it's worth checking out and will hopefully enjoy longevity.

A Must-Have For Writers Who Want To Publish

The Indie Author's Guide to the Universe is a must-have for writers in all genres who are interested in publishing their work. Author Jeff Bennington provides sound, practical advice, helpful hints and trade secrets on everything from the importance of professional editing to cover design to marketing and generating buzz once your beloved masterpiece is finally in print.

The Indie Author's Guide is part how-to book and part self-help book that provides much-needed information and a big morale boost to not only help writers successfully get their work into print, but also to realize their full potential.

Much like the classic How to Get Happily Published by Judith Applebaum, The Indie Author’s Guide is something that every author – especially those who are new and/or independently published – should have as a constant companion as they stake their claim in the cold and often lonely terrain of writing and publishing in the Digital Age.

My Nightmare Experience With Slash, Rob Zombie and Marilyn Manson

As the classic song by the O’Jays goes, “I like music, any old kind of music.” I have universal musical tastes and don’t discriminate, being a fan of everything from smooth jazz to hard rock.

This spring and summer has been an “Ol’ Skool Headbanger’s Ball” of sorts for me – unintentionally. By coincidence, I ended up attending two big rock shows in the past couple months – Rock on the Range at the Crew Stadium in Columbus in May and the “Rock of Ages” tour with Lita Ford, Poison and Def Leppard at the Riverbend amphitheater in Cincy on July 2.

The “Rock of Ages” show was okay, overall. The only person I really wanted to see was Lita Ford, but missed most of her set because the show started right at 7 on the nose and her set ended around 7:30 – which I found odd. Most shows give audience members a 10- or 15-minute grace period to find their seats and get settled before the action starts!

Trying to find my seat, I heard the last strains of “Close Your Eyes Forever” and at least got to see Lita perform “Kiss Me Deadly,” but her set was way too short. At first, I was thinking maybe they gave my girl short shrift because of sexism in the music industry. But if that were the case, they wouldn’t have even had her on the bill in the first place. Still, she’s was definitely under-utilized. It would have been interesting to see her come out and join Brett Michaels and Poison for an acoustic power ballad set of “Close My Eyes Forever” and “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” (which Poison inexplicably didn’t even perform).  

To avoid getting caught in a traffic snarl, I left before headliner Def Leppard performed any of their songs that are familiar to me: “Photograph,” “Hysteria” and “Pour Some Sugar on Me” (although I did see them do "Animal"). 

Despite the somewhat disappointing show, I found Riverbend to be a neat little concert venue surrounded by an amusement park. I’d like to go back and take the kids in my family some time.

This year was my first time attending the Rock on the Range festival, which featured bands old and new, from Slash and Megadeth to Five Finger Death Punch and Incubus. Veteran hip-hop act Cypress Hill even took the stage.

Being in the audience at Rock on the Range was like stepping back into the '70s or '80s, with scores of hardcore rock fans banging their heads and pumping their fists in unison. The festival was very well-organized, with acts taking the stage on time and the large crowd remaining under control (at least when I was there).

The main reason I attended Rock on the Range was to see Slash, former Guns ‘n’ Roses guitarist and now a solo artist with his own band. Earlier this year, I happened upon his autobiography at the library and became absorbed in the juicy page-turner. Among other things, I learned that like me, Slash grew up in an interracial family, with a black mother and a white father (my parents are black, my stepparents are white and I have biracial siblings).

Slash put on a good show, did stuff from his new album Apocalyptic Love and other solo material as well as at least one GNR classic. The crowd sang along with vocalist Myles Kennedy to "Sweet Child o' Mine," very nostalgic.

I also enjoyed seeing Rob Zombie. He's a true showman who uses stage makeup, costumes, sets, video screens and lighting to full effect, like a younger version of Alice Cooper. Before Rob Zombie took the stage, I came in on the last part of Marilyn Manson's set. During the show, a guy came up to me and offered me a free wrist band so that I could get closer to the stage. “Thanks but no thanks,” I told him. Get closer to Marilyn Manson? Not my idea of a good time. He scares me. If I met him, it would be like encountering some kind of creature from a horror movie like Frankenstein - which is probably the image he wants to project.

I enjoyed Rock on the Range, but a nightmare unfolded after the show ended. Concert goers such as myself who chose not to pay $15 to park in the Crew Stadium’s lot took our chances on parking in the lots of the businesses that surround the venue. After the show, I came back to Aldi’s parking lot to find that my car was gone.

It's the worst feeling in the world not to be able to find your car, whether forgetting where you parked in a mall parking lot or, heaven forbid, realizing that your car has been towed or stolen. A car is like an extension of yourself, like a portable version of your house, where far too many of us spend way too much time caught in traffic.

I understand that a private business has the right to tow away cars even after hours, but the towing enforcement at Rock on the Range seemed to be selective. Other cars that parked in the lot where I did, including a monster pickup truck that wasn't exactly inconspicuous, were left untouched.

After I snapped out of denial and finally came to grips with the fact that my car had been towed or stolen, I schlepped all the way back to the stadium and related my plight to a security person and two state highway patrol officers, who all told me that there was nothing they could do to help me. They said since the incident happened off the stadium's property, I was on my own.

When it comes to the highway patrol, how far does this "not my turf" approach to law enforcement - or lack thereof - go? If I had told them that I saw someone taking a trash can and breaking out the store’s window and looting or witnessed a drug deal with hundreds of grams of cocaine going down in Aldi’s lot, would they have shrugged and told me it was none of their business?

Eventually, I called Columbus police on my cell and was able to find out that my car had been towed to a lot way down on the other side of town off Greenlawn Avenue. After what seemed like an eternity trying to flag down a cab that takes credit cards (Yellow Cab is apparently the only company in Columbus that does), I finally made it to the impound lot - only to discover that the impound lot doesn’t take credit cards! Go figure! The nice guy at the lot, a young black man, drove me to a nearby gas station where I was able to withdraw money at the ATM and finally spring my beloved vehicle from bondage.

I believe in personal responsibility and I learned a lot from this experience. Number one, I'll use better judgment in where I park from now on. As the saying goes, the cheap comes out expensive. I saved money by not paying to park, but cutting corners ultimately cost me a hell of a whole lot more! I'll also make sure to always carry cash in the event that I get stranded or some other kind of emergency arises.

But I also believe that venues like the Crew Stadium that depend on people patronizing their establishments would do well to have some kind of plan in place to accommodate patrons who run into emergencies. If someone loses their keys and doesn't have a cell phone - or misplaced their phone or the battery went dead or any number of other scenarios - it would be nice if they had a courtesy phone that could be used to call for assistance. At the very least, they should be able to call the police if you tell them that your car has been stolen or you’ve been the victim of some other crime.

What if I had been a reporter for Spin, Rolling Stone or USA Today who was working on a story about the summer music festival circuit and flew in to Columbus to write a story about Rock on the Range? Or, I could have been a reporter for Vibe, XXL or another national hip-hop magazine who flew in to do an interview with Cypress Hill. If I was an out-of-town journalist from a big city like New York or L.A., I don't think my impression of Columbus and Ohio, in general, would have been very positive. My impression would have been that the city and state are inhospitable and the “authorities” aren’t very helpful to people in distress.

The whole experience was like that movie “Judgment Night” where one wrong turn ends up turning what should be an enjoyable experience into a disaster. Although it actually only took me a couple of hours to get my car back (the show let out around 11 p.m. and I got home around 1 in the morning), it was an ordeal – the night that would never end!

A Very 'Funky' Theatrical Experience

When I recently saw  "Memphis the Musical," I went by myself, which I don't mind doing. Ever since I was a kid, I've known how to enjoy my own company.

When I first arrived at the Ohio Theatre, the seat next to me was empty. But shortly after the show began, two nice-looking women came and sat next to me. One of the women, a pretty, petite blond was trailed by a cloud of funk - and I ain't talkin' about the soulful melodies going down onstage.

I almost didn't share this story because I thought it might be impolite for a man to describe a woman with bad breath, but after telling several female friends, they laughed about it and gave me the go-ahead.

Well, this woman didn't just have bad breath, she smelled as though she had swallowed  a whole clove of garlic at dinner and it was emanating from her pores. Every time she would laugh or open her mouth in any way, an overpowering stench of garlic would waft over to me. I tried to discreetly cover my nose and shift in the other direction in my seat, but the smell still overwhelmed me.

Eventually, I got up and moved to a different row at intermission. I hope I didn't hurt the lady's feelings by moving. But it was so bad that I went home and washed up because I felt like I had a garlic film all over me. I took it as a "teachable moment": to be careful about eating spicy, odorous food when you're going to be in close quarters with people.

Maybe the lady had just finished watching one of theTwilight movies or HBO's True Blood before she came to the theater - because she ingested so much garlic it was like she was trying to ward off vampires!