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Long Time Passing

I feel like I left my Goth Post unfinished, so here is part 2 of Where
Have All the Good Goths Gone. Please understand that I am not trying
to offend anyone, only trace a path of the Goth progression, so
forgive me the tread marks I make on the current Goth society…

I remember on one of my very first trips to Seattle, my good friend
Cat telling me that the goth culture was alive and well in Seattle. It
was all but dead in LA in the 90s, replaced by the sad "new punk "
movement (read: not punk at all). Anyway, we were driving through the
Fremont suburb when I saw a tall guy wearing all black including a
long velvet mourning coat! I almost crashed my poor car in shock.
"Told ya," Cat smiled.

Within two years I had moved to Seattle permanently. At that time
there was a street in the neighborhood of Capitol Hill we called
"Black Alley." On this street were two Goth bars and a private Goth
dance club called the Mercury. The Merc (as we called it) did not at
that time have it's liquor license. So we would have to run 4 doors
down to JUJU (past Richard, JUJU's hunky viking bouncer) and down a
couple drinks, then run back to the Merc to dance. At that time, the
music and DJ's at the Mercury were stellar…reminiscent of my favorite
club in LA, Booth.

JuJu closed 4 years ago and became a series of yuppie/hipster art
galleries. The Mercury is still there, but it is no longer private; it
serves alcohol and also caters to what I call the velvet vamp or neo
goth. You know what I am talking about… The music sucks too. So I
rarely go there, and never on a Saturday night.

There is however one place I love, it's called Chapel. It's a
converted funeral home, and the music is great/loud/fast and moody.
(It's not a dance club, but rather a bar/meeting place.) Not to
mention the TO DIE FOR drinks. They make a black martini that is the
same color as my soul—love it.

Recently I took a "quiz" on facebook called "how Goth are you." I came
out Goth Royalty. Part of me was like, well duh, yet I was shocked. I
am who I am, I don't try to fit in. I actually try not to stand out.
One of my favorite writer friends Heather Brewer calls me the Supreme
Elder Goth, to which I am both pleased and embarrassed about. ( I
know, I'm complex. What can I say?) Here's the secret…or at least
mine…a real goth doesn't think about it; they just are themselves. I
do own other colors besides black. Truthfully, I get dreamy eyed over
turquoise blue and true purple. So maybe I really do fail.

Honestly, I believe the way of the Goth has faded here in Seattle.
Gone are all the brooding black wearing folks. They have been replaced
with a sea of brown, top hats and goggles. Truly, Steampunk happens
when Goths decide to wear brown. It's okay, though… More black for me…

Desire lurks beyond good and evil
So dance on the graves where the hammer falls

***special thanks to Dusty Grave for the photo**************************

Cemeteries and Dead Stars

I have a bit of news.. which I have been alluding to for a while..so here it is via the Stellar Corpses website-
( www.StellarCorpses.com )
"We are thrilled to introduce the newest edition of the corpse crew, our evil master mind, the Medusa of managers, Synde Korman! She will be Taking Care of Business, kicking ass and taking names. Her experience, hard work and DEADication behind the scenes will allow us to concentrate on music and doing what we do best, rocking your asses off! So please join us in giving her a very warm welcome"

What does this mean for the blog? Absolutely nothing! I will still update the blog with stories and tales from the road..and who knows maybe some new stories! Already I have a few I could tell and it's only been about 2 weeks.( but you don't want to get me fired so soon do you?) So stay tuned my pets..muahahaha

**you can find out info about the Stellar Corpses in following places*************
facebook- www.facebook.com/StellarCorpses

I know this much is True

In the years I have worked in the music business, I never developed "crushes" on the people I worked for. The last time I can even think of crushing on a musician was during the 80's on Tony Hadley of Spandau Ballet (FTR, I never worked with them). I can't explain it. I guess I really really like tall dark haired men? Anyway, once I saw him hold his microphone like a cup of tea it was done...crush abated big time. Although, when I hear "True" I still sigh like a 12 year old girl. (I know, I know…ewww.)
Still, there is one exception...Al Jourgensen. UH HUH! You know it. I love me some Ministry and Al gives 110% on stage. In addition, there is always the added bonus of seeing if he'll gore himself on his own microphone stand. Al lives life and is passionate about the problems in the world, and I have to respect that. Plus, creatively he never stops. I have had the pleasure of meeting him a few times; each time he is gracious and compelling, and TALL!
In the first year I lived in Seattle, I was walking down 1st Street Downtown with my pal Willow when we noticed coming towards us this gentleman that looked quite remarkably like Al Jourgensen. I was trying to convince Willow that this was indeed Al but she would have none of it. As said dude passed us, I looked around him and said, "it totally is Al Jourgensen." ( I never just call him Al. I always call him Al Jourgensen...like Santa Claus or Jack the Ripper...) Anyway, dude must have heard me because he turned around and smiled...or bared his teeth... It could have been either, really. "Uh-oh," I thought as my fight or flight mechanism took control. He looked at me and said very kindly, "you win."
Holy shit, it WAS Al Jourgensen... Could I be more embarrassed?
We all chatted for a few and I was shocked to find out that Al hangs in Seattle pretty often. He told us he was having a few people to the Albi Room in the evening and we should stop by. The Albi is a bizarre dark club known for it's "look the other way " policy for musicians... Many still hang there. We went that night, met some cool folks and talked current events, religion and the craptastic state of music. It was a good time. Sadly I don't have a story about how Al shaped my life or gave me sage words of wisdom. I haven't made any incredible personal changes in my life because of something he said...

Or Have I??? Heh heh...
A few days ago I went out for drinks with friends...and Al was there. The general consensus from the group was that I was tense, quiet, and drinking way more than usual. I explained I was facing a sort of professional crisis, thinking about testing the waters in the music biz again. I was worried about stepping back into a world that abandoned me when I was diagnosed with cancer. That I was both excited and terrified. I also shared the story of how someone close to me suggested I start reading the trades again because I was sort of closed off musically. CLOSED OFF??? WTF??? They all laughed. My friend Eric said he could see the old Synde emerging. Was that a good thing, I wondered?

Mr. Jourgensen was very to the point as usual. "Fuck yeah, you should do it! Especially if it scares you, because that means you feel challenged, pushed to excel. You'll have to prove yourself all over again. That's a good thing. They'll be no laurels for you to rest on this time."

I might or might not have almost started to cry right then... If you know me, you know the answer. If you don't, then I totally didn't!!!
So I made my decisions and took Al's advice. Hopefully I did the right thing...It's early on and I can't tell. I'm teetering on the precipice between hysterical panic and the adrenaline of making the right choice. Time is on my side, I hope...

Armageddon, it's gotten
No savior jailer can take it from me
World ending, it's just beginning
And rock and roll is what I'm born to be

Living Dead Girl

Once a year, a well known LA radio station called KROQ has a huge summer festival called the Weenie Roast. In the 80's and 90's, the station was not syndicated, rather a cutting edge station that showcased new talent. NOT POP. Anyway, I loved to work these shows as a lighting technician. The line up was always great and everyone treated the whole gig like a giant party. Not sure of the exact date of this particular concert, but the year was 1991 because White Zombie's La Sexorcisto had just come out. I was in the height of my goth years and I looked scarily pale. (I don't hide that I was also struggling with an intense drug addiction, which also contributed to the paleness.)

This year, Skinny Puppy and White Zombie were the headliners. A few hours before the show Ogre was on the stage with me working out some lighting kinks… It takes a bit to get the lights "just so" when a singer is going to cover themselves in cows blood… I love Ogre. I don't know him well, but in my experience, he is a funny and generous guy as well as a consummate performer. I have a background in theatre lighting so it was really easy to the the lights right. (FYI, this was before everything in lighting design became completely computerized.)

Once we had things set, Ogre was telling me about this new band, White Zombie. Rob was the talk of the town back then, with his animal prints, DayGlo, dreds, and crazy-ass top hats. Not to mention he had an amazingly talented female guitarist, Sean Yseult. Ogre thought I should meet him as we liked similar things. (Even now, Thunderkiss 65 is still one of my all time favorite songs.) In Rob's early days as a singer, his brand of talk/rap/singing was very cutting edge. We walked backstage and found Rob talking to his then new girlfriend (Sheri Moon, now Sheri Moon Zombie). He was taller than I expected and much friendlier too. Introductions were made all around, but when I reached out to shake his hand, he looked down at my hand and then back up to my face. Smiling he took my hand and shook it oh so gently, and said, "You aren't a Zombie are you? I was worried your arm would fall off if I shook it too hard."
At the time I overreacted (cuz I NEVER do that!!) and told him to fuck off. Rob seemed confused, adding, " You are really really pale."
I was a different person then, but truthfully I think I was a bit confronted by the truth of the matter…soooo I just stood there unblinking. Ogre shrugged and we moved along. I remember being really annoyed and, after all, I didn't tell Rob his dreds smelled like a wet dead dog.
To "get even" I used a ton of lime green color during their set, which is a nono when lighting pale-complected people. Sadly I heard that Rob loved the macabre effect that Synde designed. VINDICTIVE FAIL.

The next night I began to tone down my look and within a year put and end to a very horrible chapter in my life. An addiction had been permanently put to bed. So yes, Rob's insightful and " humorous" comments did the job.

Years later I found out that my very close friend Jodie had been working for Rob all along. So we all hung out a bit, and Rob is still a funny guy. I am not a huge fan of his solo career or his movies, but his visual imagery is full of win. I retold him the story and he didn't remember anything except the green light… Funny, that...

I got nothing to say I ain't said before
I bled all I can, I won't bleed no more

Relevance I haz it

Wow! Today was one of those days where I woke up and BOOM, the struggle for relevance was on! Coming from the music business I always felt very much a part of things. Socially and artistically. When my health forced an early retirement out of me, I struggled to find the kind of social and artistic contribution that felt right. I owned my own esoteric bookstore, read tarot and the like, but couldn't make a living. Finally I settled on (for?) working in a chain bookstore and owning my own jewelry business. I have always kept one foot in the "biz" as many of my friends still work in it. Lately I have heard a lot of "wow you have been gone a looong time" and "you mean you don't know that band?" I struggle sometimes to feel like my cool points are being slowly stripped away. I still have lots of connections- but day jobbery often prevents me from hitting up gigs and playing nightly with pals. Being well connected doesn't mean I don't need creative recognition. It's a funny thing, when your friends are "noteworthy" it's harder than ever not to crave and creative recognition.

Age is a cruel master indeed. Recently a supervisor suggested it was time I start "acting my age." WTF does that mean? Dressing in granny jeans and letting my hair go gray? Listening to Michael Buble and wearing a fanny pack?

I firmly believe that you are as old as you act, so don't expect me to grow up anytime soon. I will keep pushing myself.
The stories I tell here are not just memories, they are little lessons I have learned. Some beautiful, some embarrassing—all life changing. I hope the reader gets that. I don't want you all to think I am parading my life before your eyes for no reason. After all: I'm not dead yet!!

What have I become
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
goes away
In the end

Sweet Sweet Connie

Recently on twitter there was a discussion of a reality show and celebrity. During it, a friend's husband made a groupie/starfucker comment to me. Now, relax! I don't think he was calling me either of those things, but I will admit for a second, I did suck air. If he was, well he is so far off that it's hilarious, but nonetheless it has been percolating in my mind...and Abracadabra, a blog post popped out.

During my time in the "biz," I met some really awesome people, some of whom could be classified as groupies. Oddly, Cameron Crowe did a great job depicting groupies in Almost Famous, as they were a merry band of women. All good friends as long as a famous dude didn't come in between them.  The thing that struck me most about said groupies is that they had such incredibly low self esteem that they would allow these "guys" to use them and toss them away. Like a pile of used Kleenex. These girls were cool, stylish women who were looking for some acceptance. Many evenings it broke my heart. There were a couple of bands who would actually ask me to pick out several—ahem—"dates" for them each night. I would tell them what room to go to at the hotel, give them 20.00 for cab fare, and tell them what to expect. Most nights I would try to spend some time talking to them about their lives, trying to get insight into why they would be ok with this. It was always about wanting acceptance. Many a night I felt like a madame, and often I would refuse.

In the mid 80's I met Pamela Des Barres—famous groupie, writer, and sometime wife to Michael Des Barres (singer for Silverhead, Detective, and also a well known actor)—and we talked in detail about Starfucking. She was honest and funny, citing a poor home life, low self esteem and not fitting in at school all as factors. Those were all factors I faced in my youth, but the thought of being the "fuck buddy du jour" makes me want to slap the shit out of somebody. The difference is, I think, two things: I am a fixer not an enabler, and I had good role models growing up. My brother was already working in the business when I hit my formative years, and often took me along to help. I saw early on how to be a part of things without having to lose myself in the process. I saw how to be a part of the process, not the candy you ate after the process was finished. The music business did take a toll on me, I definitely had "to pay the ferryman".  However I have more than just memories of whom I slept with.

What am I trying to say? Nothing, really...just taking you along with me on another memory. The comment I mentioned at the beginning of the post just allowed me to remember some of the fine people I met in my travels, and how I wished something better for them than they wished for themselves. I hope they eventually got it…

But you can't turn back the time -- It always gonna wait on the line.

This post is dedicated to Sable Starr who left us way too soon...

Don't worry 'bout tomorrow come what may

While I was in college getting my Master’s, I worked for Magic Mountain in their name talent theatre. It was excellent for getting gigs locally, piggy backed off the dates at the park. Many a relationship was cemented in the upstairs dressing room (not that kind, pervs!!).

**Useless factoid #2 all the concert footage for Spinal Tap was shot in that theatre...So win/win!

Any road, I digress.
One such cemented realtionship was with the Lords of the New Church. Stiv Bators (original member of punk band the Dead Boys) was their lead singer. The band scored 2 semi new wave dancy goth hits with Live for Today and Dance with Me. Most of the band hated Stiv, admittedly not without reason. He was extremely needy and very, very mopey. On this day, he looked extra emo as he approached me..


Now, Stiv had this leather jacket, it had bones sewed on the back to spell out LORDS OF THE NEW CHURCH. It was kind of cool in a gross way. When I asked Stiv what was wrong he showed me his jacket. Several of the bones had come loose.


"They won't stay," he said forlornly. "I heard you make jewelry, so maybe you can do something?"

It took a minute for me to see his reasoning. Then I had an idea. I told him that if he was ok with me poking tiny holes in the jacket I could wire them on. Even make it look a bit cooler.

He was excited, a foreign emotion for Stiv and a bit uncomfortable to watch. I ran home (l lived only about ten minutes away). I grabbed some sterling wire, a leather mallet and an awl and returned to get to work. Stiv handed me his jacket and the yuck factor went from zero to 100 in sixty seconds. Not only did the jacket stink, but those bones were CHICKEN BONES--not bleached bones either! Look out, KFC!

I proceeded to wire said bones onto the jacket adding spirals and wraps to hold those gross bones in. It looked pretty amazing when it was finished. That night during the concert I watched him repeatedly hit the stage with the jacket. Well, yeah, if you beat the jacket against the stage, those bones aren’t going to hold forever, dumbass. But it did hold that night and for subsequent other nights. I never really got paid or even thanked for fixing that jacket. All in a day's work, I suppose.

I was saddened years later to hear about Stiv's death. It didn't surprise me, though. He wasn't very good at paying attention to his surroundings, think gross nasty KFC chicken bones!! ( He was hit by a bus in San Francisco= correction I found out recently it was in Paris France..Thx Aleck)

Still he always did "live for today."

** if you scroll back up to the picture you will see the boney jacket on one of the other band members...then you will understand!



Dancing with Mr D

Throughout my music career, I worked between tours at either my friend’s bead store or a Native American Gallery in Old Town San Diego. Both were locally owned by people who understood my career choices and gave me hours when they could.

One of my co-workers at the Gallery (Kathy) had recently moved from New Jersey. As we got to know each other, Kathy talked about her sister Susie and her sister’s boyfriend, who was apparently in a notorious punk band. His name was Glen and he was the lead singer of the Misfits. Yep, I had heard of him all right.

The first time I met Susie she was convalescing from a breast augmentation, a birthday gift from said boyfriend. I was aghast, yet I could see the irony. A gift for her...riiiight. She mentioned that Glen was coming in a week to look for a place to live in Los Angeles and to visit; she thought we should all have dinner together. I thought, “Sure. What have I got to lose?” I also thought this could go so very wrong.

The day of our meeting Kathy tried in vain to prepare me, "Glen has a temper, Synde. Oh and he's kind of um…short. Please don't make jokes." Honestly the more she warned me the more I looked forward to the EVENT.

We met up at my favorite vegetarian restaurant, a serene little place in North Park. When I arrived, Kathy and company were waiting for me. Now, I am NEVER LATE…EVER!  I am compulsively early!! ALWAYS!!!

Before I could even sit down or greet the party, the mutton-chopped dude looked through his bangs covering one eye and announced, "You're late." His disapproval hung in the air.
I smiled my best "fuck you" smile and noted that I was actually 10 minutes early. Susie cringed and apologized and said that she might have "forgotten that the Misfits were playing the Spirit that night and we had to rush a bit."

Being the polite person that I am, I asked Glen about the Misfits, moving from New Jersey and his high-heeled boots. The Misfits are known for their blend of serial killer/horror themed music, and Mr. Danzig was doing his best to make me quiver with fear over his "intense evilness and knowledge of serial murderers"

Each time he gestured, moving the air with his meaty hands, his ginormous...(wait for it...) belt buckle would get caught on the table, starting a cataclysmic shockwave of tumbling glasses and sliding plates. It was awesome. It happened 3 or 4 times until he finally got frustrated and gave up. Slowly, his bad humor grew until he was absolutely furious with my ambivalence. He became completely quiet, glowering in silence like a sullen child. (To this day whenever I see Danzig's video Mother, I still fall into hysterical fits of laughter).

We finished our in meal in tension-filled silence and Glen paid. He shook my hand and said he would see me at the show...but what it sounded like was, "I will slit your throat in your sleep."

Kathy was not phased by the whole discourse, as if this was a common occurrence.
We went to the Spirit, drank a bit, (read-- A LOT) and waited for the show.

To be completely fair, they were awesome. All that sullen glowering had turned into complete rage and intensity on stage. I was pretty shocked. My favorite song is and will always be AngelFuck. I know it's silly and immature; perhaps that is why I love it so. That night a fallen angel sang it.

After the show, I let him know that the band was great; he accepted the compliment well. I left thinking that I had been unfair.

Two weeks later, he broke it off with Susie in favor of some Los Angeles Stripper. Apparently stripper poles are the new Boob Jobs.


So much for feeling like I was unfair.

In my time in and out of the music biz, I’ve run into Glen quite a few times. He has always been kind. He even lets me tease him about his age, height, and addiction to working out. I say it's because he has muttonchops, and as we all know... everything is cooler with muttonchops.

I have to say that maybe some guys get cooler with age. I think he has. Still...I leave you with this link...

It will ease the pain.


Denizens of the Downside

Hey all-

I decided to take a break from the music blog to write about something else I have been thinking about.

The characters of Stacia Kane's Downside series.( First let me say if you haven't read them don't read on!There will be minor spoilers..SPOILERS...) I find it interesting why people are attracted to certain characters.

So let's just begin..

Cesaria Putnam otherwise known as Chess, what is it about this unapologetic drug addict/witch/debunker that makes us care about her? It is her willingness to admit when she messes up?

For me it's very visceral, in many ways I was once just like her. I feel her pain and understand what it is to be THAT afraid of life. I think some may scoff but I find her very realistic in her psychosis. I have people mention her fear is not “real” enough. This amuses me, because they obviously have never truly been scared. I have and I get where she is coming from. I see and feel her growth as a character throughtout the series.


Terrible drug enforcer,and general badass. The fascination with Terrible is extremely interesting to me

He hits a kid in the first 20 pages of the book and yet we love him. Stacia takes gret pains to let us know he is very unattractive and brutish. Still..I have never seen more people profess their love for the big galut. (there is a goodreads group called I gots Terrible fever) I myself love him. He is my favorite Downside resident outside of Edsel .(we will talk about him later) I think it's because Terrible is about feelings; he is as Stacia once said “earthy” Terrible may be strong, quick and a talented fighter but he also struggles with feelings, and making the right decisions. He is not always self confident unless it requires physical strength. We want to fix him..oh yes he also has great musical taste. I don't know how it happened but Terrible's brand of Downspeech is particulary fun for me to recreate..(hand to heart “true thing”)


Lex-the self assured technician. Lex knows what he wants and he gets it. There are no feelings attached, he just wants what he wants. When I first read him I disliked him. He seemed conceited. That is his strength. He is the air element to Terrible's earth. He is completely detached. In City of Ghosts (Downside 3) I found I liked him much more ..If you have read it,you know why! ;) I hope we get to meet Lex's dad and Bumps nemisis Slobag in Downside #4


Bump- I love Bump. Drug Lord, Pimp and lover of bad art and bright red. He makes me laugh out loud. He is a riot, and a nasty basterd.

He is not nice and has no good motives, but still I devour parts with him in it. Why ? He is like Pacino's Scarface..(well not exactly but you dig what I am saying aye?) You gotta like him. Plus he took care of Terrible as a youth, so somewhere in that PJ wearin pimp there is good..


Edsel- we don't know much about him, he works at the Downside Market selling magic artifacts and herbs. He sincerely cares about Chess' well being. He is a watcher,he knows and see's all . He has secrets I know it. I can feel it. I hope we get to hear about them!!


Red Berta- The head of Bumps women, Red berta is the mom, sister and doctor for all of them. I suggest you read the “deleted scene “from Unholy Magic about her house. It's eye opening and lets you know that this women is no regular hooker. She is something quite special.


So tell me who you love and why..or who you don't like..but you have to say why.

Rumor has it, Stacia has just started Downside #4, I frankly can't wait.

Give me the knowledge, dig?


Diver Down

I realized that I was blogging uplifting stories where a person helped me make a hard life decision. I know that's kind of boring, so this one will be Synde fail--one where my big mouth got me in trouble. Shock, right?
My relationship with Van Halen is a love/hate kind of thing. I love to hate them. OK. That's not really fair. I do like "Jump." But only if David Lee Roth does it!
They came from the same area of California I did and my brother knew them well. I didn't know them at all. I was busy listening to the Ramones, Iggy Pop and Richard Hell and the Void Oids when they were breaking.

One of my more steady gigs was with Magic Mountain during their concert series as either a lighting technician or assistant stage manager. I piggybacked a ton of gigs from the shows that went through there.
So, one night they were having this "rock" band called Autograph play..Yep the ol' tragic hump was getting desperate. They had begun to book talentless “hair” bands. They had a hit at the time but it was so godawful I refuse to even Google it to give you the name.(OK. OK. It was called “Turn up the Radio”). Anyway my boss, one hell of a guy by the name of Don Burgess, told me that David Lee Roth was coming to hang with the band and he needed an escort. Guess who??? Yep. Me.

When I was informed that "Mr. Roth" was waiting for me at the gate, I took my time getting there, a million thoughts racing through my mind.Wonder if he'll be as difficult as I’ve heard? Wonder if he'll be wearing spandex?

When I arrived he didn't ask my name or anything friendly like, but announced he wanted to "ride rollercoasters, eat food, and then see the band." We did exactly that. He didn't really speak to me, unless it was to inform me of his next desire. During my time with him in the park, he wore a hat..no chance at getting a gander at that infamous mane he had? Or did he really have one? Maybe he was bald on top? Maybe he wore a hair piece?...maybe?

When we arrived back at the theatre I thought I was finally free of David Lee Douchebag.But, no...he needed me to kneel right next to him the entire concert so no one would approach him. (Like anyone would?) Just to make sure, he kept his foot on my hand and applied pressure any time I tried to pull it away. Neat! Just what I wanted to do be crotch level with DLR and a bunch of sweaty metal guys. Not even cute ones...or well endowed..It stank of sweat and colonge and puke..no fun folks. BTW he wasn't wearing a hat in the evening, but his hair looked um.. too full if you will. I know you get what I am saying here.. heh heh

Finally, I asked him through gritted teeth to remove his foot before I removed it for him. Oddly he did without even a protest. I believe he was testing me. Once foot left hand, Synde left David. He was on his own the rest of the night. I don't do abuse, especially when paired with the worst kind of metal band. I gave the "delightful" job to one of the Magic Mountain technicians who was ecstatic to be near DLR, and went into the office to complete the evening's paper work.

The next day my boss called and said DLR's manager had called and asked for my phone number. He told Don that they needed some help on a video shoot. I was ambivalent, but when they called I took the job.

Cut to the next week. I was in a big warehouse setting up the "Just A Gigolo" lights with 3 other dudes. DLR pranced and primped around, giving orders like Mussolini.Twice he "accidentally" bumped into the 8-foot ladder I was balancing on. Clearly, the D stood for douchebag.

I had had enough. I had almost lost my footing on the last bump aaaaannnd I swear I heard him giggle..Nice masculine gesture Dave, just like a little girl.
When the lights were hung, I went to the sound board to help check the levels.While most often in videos, the musicians aren’t singing at full voice, they usually aren’t lip-syncing. They sing with themselves, so we had to blare the recorded track over and over. So, this is what I used to check levels--and I preface it by saying..MY BAD...LOL--"D-A-V-I-D WEARS A HAIRPIECE" (Heavy pronunciation on the D). It took about 3 times before everyone heard it. David was yelling; the dudes were laughing. It was awesome.

One of the video producers came over, smiled, and said, "I have to fire you now, you know, but that was pretty funny. Still, you’re fired. Oh, but here is your $200 for the day."
I left quite happily.

So the moral of the story...Synde keep your damn mouth shut! My editor however thinks it's sometimes you gotta do whatcha gotta do, so you decide..

Oh yes, one more thing. I can't say if he really wears a hairpiece, but you know what??

I NEVER LIE!!!! Mwahahaha...

When the end comes I know that I’m just a gigolo
Life goes on without me.

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