Bonnarro Here I Come!

I needed a road trip. And this one revealed itself. Bonnaroo.com. Though I ran the iconic rock mag, RIP, back in the day, irony has me traveling to Nashville to gather sights, sounds and sweat for an upcoming Metal Edge cover story on Metallica. Back in the day, the light-hearted metal fanzine didn't really compete journalistically with our Larry Flynt published bible of bang but they did offer commercial distraction. When Zenbu Media, publishers of Relix -- where I compose the ongoing Soapbox column -- acquired Metal Edge and instilled veteran pit-dweller, Phil Freeman, into the editorial captain's seat, redesign commenced in earnest and now Metal Edge resembles RIP in both graphic and text attitude. And since RIP died 12 years ago (14 months after I departed for the record business gig that would fill my wallet and empty my soul-it's in the memoir, Life on Planet Rock), I figured why not write about the band I've known and covered for 20 years for a new platform where there's a goodly amount of respect for this veteran pilgrim of six string adventures.

But it ain't just the four horsemen of Bay Area thrash-turned global hard rock juggernaut that got me jazzed about the bountiful Bonnaroo '08. I'm also excited about reconnecting with old friends whose musical evolution I have also witnessed and enjoyed. The entities are scattered throughout the four-day festival, disparate deities of riff and word like Pearl Jam and Robert Plant, united with Allison Krauss and an old golfing buddy named T. Bone Burnett. Got a friend in Las Vegas who lives and dies for Widespread Panic yet I confess I've never had the live experience. My daughter is crazy about MGMT. Jack White does little wrong in my book so the Raconteurs are high on my list. I could go on and on but this is the debut entry so let me get back to the set up.

My gut has me going early Hunter S. this trip, like real bohemian, leaving my lodging up to serendipity and the synchronous appearance of new media 'apprentices' who'll aid and abet me in my mission to translate what I capture on site, helping me bring the content to the fans via this blog. Given the blessing of access from being around this world for so fucking long and never having blown up the bridges I helped build, I anticipate words, sounds and images -- both moving and still -- that will serve to relate the magic, essence and music of this southern festival fantastique.

Okay seed planted. Communicate at will. Get excited if you're heading to Tennessee and wish me luck. Turn off the muse, find the muse, raise the volume but lower the noise. Back at ya soon.