I read yesterday that my friend of many years, the (literal) rock star Ron Keel, just had a skin cancer scare. I only mention it here because he has already mentioned it publicly, and I have had similar scares. He’s apparently healing well, and on the mend, and in fact, there is great Keel activity on the horizon, which is awesome and which I urge you to check out. Google it. I’m listening to Lay Down The Law as I write. It’s Rad.
I was texting with Ron in response to the news, just to check in, and it got me to thinking of our history. And other things. Like how and where I grew up.
I was born and raised in what they call the Inland Empire. It’s not quite an empire these days, as California isn’t, but that’s another story for another day.
However, being a teenager in Southern California in the 1980s was a really good time. We were all BMX-ing, drinking beer at lunch, smoking in the high school parking lot in the morning, debating whether to actually go to class, go skiing in Big Bear, or go to Newport Beach. Each destination was equidistant. I love to tell people that “Fast Times at Ridgemont High” is not a movie but a documentary.
When I was a teenager, I wasn’t a singer as I am now. I was a metal drummer. I worked at a donut shop in order to afford to buy a John Bonham-style drum set from Ludwig. Once I got it, I played with my neighbors regularly at keggers. Good times. 2 bucks. All the beer you can drink. Later, the singing thing happened.
Back to Keel. His lineage traces to Steeler, a band we loved and still do. They split, sadly, then he formed Keel.
This was the Sunset Strip era, which I was fortunate enough to witness firsthand as a teen with a fake ID. It was right before the grunge era when everything suddenly shifted to Seattle. I would spray paint KEEL banners and bring them to The Whiskey, and Ron would grab them and take them onstage. My friends and I would roam The Strip all the time, befriending and partying with all of the up-and-coming groups — some of whom are now millionaires, some forgotten. I don’t feel like naming them beyond Keel, but it was a wonderful time and place. We would all party with Lemmy at the Rainbow Bar and Grill, where very strange things tended to happen.
These bands would run around putting their Kinko’s posters over others, sort of how dogs piss on trees. The worst offenders, for your information, were the band Poison, whom everyone hated. Those dudes were obnoxious. But whatever. Put your wig on, Brett.
We are all getting older. Some of my Hollywood friends and others are lost. But some still thrive. I’m glad my boy Ronnie Lee is in good shape. I look forward to the next Keel moment. And I am grateful for my times at home, on the Sunset Strip.
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