Next-to-last Rocklahoma post…
I hope I do these final two installments justice, as what you’re about to read really was the musical essence of Rocklahoma. We left off with ENatFlow finding proper attire and our gang heading from camp to the festival for the remainder of the afternoon and evening.
Next up?
Like the backdrop reads: Firehouse. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. I know it, ’cause I was thinking it too. “Baby, Don’t Treat Me Baaaaa-aaaad” and “Love of a Lifetime.” Two very basic late-glam-era hits. There was almost an expectation of a mediocre show with a few drunken sing-a-longs. Boy, were we ever wrong. Firehouse easily gets our group’s Best In Show, for numerous reasons:
(1) APPEARANCE. The dudes have managed to retain decent-looking-human status. Case in point, lead singer CJ Snare…
Early 90’s 
vs. Summer ’07 
Seriously, he hasn’t aged too badly at all, especially considering the musician population at this party! A woman today might actually not be embarrassed to be seen with the latter of those two pics, right? Okay, maybe not all of you, but some of you (Kim, you know who you are!)
(2) SOUND. While I don’t have sound clips from the show, trust me when I say that these guys sounded great. ENatFlow, Sister Darkness, and The Bone all vehemently concurred. Vocal harmonies were aplenty, entirely on-pitch and strong. Snare still has a killer range and uses it frequently. Through these images, you can almost hear a nailed vocal high note and perfectly executed arpeggio:
(3) ENERGY. It was hot. Very hot. Very sunny and very hot. But these dudes were ON. I think the drummer was so psyched that he put on his favorite Stone Temple Pilots concert shirt:
But even beyond rockin’ in a sky blue shirt about 10 years outta style, Firehouse came to play with the same intensity they had 15-20 years ago. Check out the pose in (a) below, then the crowd-noise-set-up pose in (b), and finally the Rock ‘n’ Roll Forever pay-off pose in (c):
(a)
(b)
(c)
(4) BELIEVABILITY AND SINCERITY. These guys weren’t just onstage to play worn-out songs for a paycheck for the umpteenth time. They truly seemed to care about their music, their fans, and themselves. A great example of this is their performance of “Love of a Lifetime.” The standard ballad performance thus far at the fest was a run-through, uninspired rendention of a song that made some money 20 years ago. Not Firehouse, though. The singer jumped on synth/keys and the guitarist did some nice volume swells, such that our crew looked surprisingly at one another saying, “Damn, that was beautiful.” Firehouse truly seems to love their music, deeply appreciate their fans, and enjoy being able to still make a living playing music.
Suffice it to say that Firehouse kicked ass when we were least expecting it. Saturday at Rocklahoma had taken off, hit cruising altitude, and damn near went on to break the sound barrier. But engine failure approached, in the least likely of forms:
Warrant.
Just as the backdrop above is cut in half and underscored with sharp, painful barbs, such was the cacophony that was about to ensue.
I was really looking forward to this set. Cherry Pie came out at the very beginning of my senior year in high school, and after having worn out my Dirty Rotten Filthy Stinking Rich cassette and getting my high school cover band to play “Down Boys,” well, I wanted to hear all those songs again. And had they been performed with the quality Firehouse just exhibited, damn, would that have ever been great.
In anticipation, I even knew Jani Lane wasn’t in the band anymore and had been replaced by Not-Jani-Lane (Jaime St. James, actually, which was cool, or so I thought, ’cause he’d sung for Black and Blue who I’d really dug way back when). Not-Jani-Lane’s personal website contains the question, “So you ask yourself, how the hell did Jaime end up the lead singer for Warrant.” We were all about to ask ourselves that very same question, but for vastly different reasons. The first few words of the opening song, “Down Boys” (I think it was that, my memory has shut-out much of their set) were uttered. Simultaneously, 30,000 screaming fans stopped screaming, looked at each other, and mouthed, “What the fuck?”
Warrant was the polar opposite to everything I wrote about Firehouse–retention of talent, appearance, energy, and vigor. Here’s what visibly happened to Warrant:
1990s: 
Now: 
and 
That second cheese-dick is Not-Jani-Lane. As much as I really liked his band in the 80s and 90s, he was god-awful at Rocklahoma. He not only single-handedly killed Warrant’s set, but he brought the entire festive nature of this festival to a screeching halt. If Firehouse was supersonic speed, Warrant was a tragic plane crash.
I was appalled. Mothers covered their children’s ears. The Bone looked downward, shaking his head in utter disappointment. Warrant had failed their fans. Whereas Faster Pussycat was entertaining in how terrible they were, Warrant’s performance lacked both quality and entertainment value. ENatFlow’s face read, “Yeah, this is what I thought all the bands would sound like.” And Sister Darkness, well, when the modulation in “Heaven” seemed to signal a pick-a-key-any-key contest and the subsequent vocal ad-libs resembled the simultaneous torturing of many felines…her aspect took on that of Kurtz in the closing pages of, appropriately, Heart of Darkness.
Warrant did have brightly colored guitars, for what that was worth:
Truly, the best part of the show was accidentally shooting this guy’s mane and stock-glam-modified shirt:
Warrant had a drummer. He looked disgusted by the show, too, as though he was ready to pack up and get outta Dodge.
One moderately redeeming moment happened as Not-Jani-Lane gazed out into the crowd of people (who were screaming at him and not for him). There was a sign…I zoomed in my lens for your reading enjoyment:
I left our seating area after several songs to wait in line to get Firehouse’s autograph. I damn near paid $20 to get Firehouse’s new album signed by the band, as they’d announced they’d hang out to meet people and sign autographs after their gig (apparently Firehouse has done this at every show throughout their career…yeah, they rock). They signed and greeted for about an hour, but the line became enormously and uncontrollably long as fans steadily left their seats to escape Warrant’s wrath.
During my Warrant-avoidance trek I saw a tattoo I thought was neat. The owner let me photograph it, then explained that it was a tribute to her deceased sister who really liked the song “Free Bird.” Beautiful tat and story, yet the somberness of the latter was still not as big a buzz-killer as Warrant.
Then I walked over to where a radio station van was parked. This was in the back of the van:
Maybe you’d heard of Mini Spooners. I hadn’t. I thought it was funny.
I then returned to my seat in time for Warrant to accept their award for 2nd Crappiest Band at Rocklahoma and their 1st Place Prizes for Biggest Disappointment and Worst Not-Original Band Member.
We were about to see the Best-Not-Original-Band-Member in Skid Row’s Not-Sebastian-Bach, but not before The Bone ripped my camera from my hands and took this terribly objectifying photo of some nice girl.
Sister Darkness kept talking about this woman wearing Timberlands with this outfit, and how funny that was. The Bone and I never saw any footwear.
Skid Row was ALL about Not-Sebastian-Bach. This guy saved Rocklahoma as far as we were concerned. The metaphorical festival/vessel was ablaze on a jungle hillside, and Not-Sebastian-Bach almost single-handedly picked up the pieces, reassembled it MacGyver-like into a spaceship, and shot us to the damned moon.
So without further ado, Not-Sebastian-Bach:
He had it all: energy, vigor, a killer voice, attitude, and he’s from BUDA for Pete’s sake! Sister Darkness and ENatFlow embodied the joy felt throughout the reinvigorated Rocklahoma crowd:
Skid Row’s Rachel Bolan (aka the dude who used to have the nose ring connected to his earring by a chain, like Jane Child) was incredible, too.
Rachel Bolan: 
Jane Child: 
Intensity, happiness, and alcohol consumption abounded during Skid Row’s set.
Even the drummer took it upon himself to stand up and get a better view, to be sure somebody was kicking Warrant’s ass for putting a damper on our party.
I also think the drummer was no stranger to tattoo parlors:
Then they played a ballad. It was okay…played well, but a bit uninspired.
Things were on track again and Rocklahoma had taken a turn back toward the energy that preceded Warrant’s oft-mentioned suckiness. Life was indeed good.
And seriously, can it possibly get any more American than Miller Chill, U.S. Smokeless Tobacco, JPot music, and glam rock in Oklahoma? God, I hope so:
I did have to take a beer and bathroom break quickly during Skid Row’s set, where I ran into another photo-worthy tattoo. This guy’s Dad fought in WWII and had passed away early in this guy’s life. His tattoo was an Army insignia, Betty Grable, and his Dad’s regiment number. I also liked that he was wearing a brethren of ENatFlow’s Girls, Girls, Girls shirt…even modified in a similar fashion.
And with that beautiful tribute, I sign off with one last Rocklahoma installment pending: Winger, Dokken, and Vince Neil will round out our Rocklahoma experience.
Rock on, everyone,
El Coyote
