This life is about staying clean and working hard
Sunday, September 30, 2007
So, ya think being a rock star is the cushy dreamlife, do ya?
Well, I've got news for you, bubba booby. If you think it's a cakewalk, you have another think coming.
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If you want to sleep in, get high and end up deader than a doornail, you can certainly follow the ridiculous playbook of so many brain-dead rocknuts.
That's what we in the intelligent world call "suicide." The only difference between Kurt Cobain's quail gun and mine is that I use mine on quail.
If you want a fire-breathing, ultra-fun, never-ending, intense Ted Nugent kind of rock-'n-roll career, you had better get in the mindset of a battle-ready U.S. Marine Corps commando.
You had better be ready to train and practice like a madman possessed. Take the very best care of your mind, body, heart, spirit and soul. Discipline yourself like you are the advance scout for Lewis and Clark. Care deeply about the quality of the music. And prepare for a work ethic that would cause much of mankind to blow up.
In the 1960s, I would perform upwards of 300 concerts a year, constantly on the road. I drove the equipment truck mostly myself, set up our gear each night, conducted numerous media interviews every day, jammed like an animal for two to three hours every night, "socialized" like a gregarious animal, loaded back up and hit the road for the next city.
Many people could be seen roasting marshmallows over my vapor trail. Well done.
Summer rock-outs
Today, at the tender age of 59, I wouldn't subject myself to such ridiculous scheduling. I nonetheless often perform as many as 28 gung-ho, maximum-energy rock-outs per month throughout the summer.
Totaling approximately 60 to 90 concerts a year, the sheer brutality of a different city every day is not for the meek of heart.
In one stretch this summer, I strung together an even dozen such adrenalin slamdunks in a row on my Love Grenade tour. Each one was over-the-top ferocious in its sheer energy upheaval.
Add the various radio, print and TV interviews each day. Sometimes, it's a wonder I can even talk.
But again, as the world's greatest philosopher, Dirty Harry, once stated, "It's a good man who knows his limitations."
It is imperative that I eat nothing but quality superfoods and get quality sleep each night. The fact that my hunting BloodBrothers across the country always have some great venison rocket fuel ready for me in most cities is one reason why I'm still so healthy and energized.
In between hunting seasons, I am still able to outrock any and all young bands half my age.
Of course, usually it's an unfair, nonlevel playing field.
For some strange, inexplicable reason, fools are still in this day and age continuing to poison themselves with drugs, alcohol and tobacco, knowingly destroying their spirit and creativity. Truly amazing.
Be that as it may, one only has to witness the powerstorm of energy blazing off the stage from drum god Mick Brown and virtuoso bassist Greg Smith as they mercilessly throttle my American guitar into an R&B&R&R firestorm each night to see what smart, dedicated, healthy, prioritized middle-aged men can do when they put their hearts and souls into their American musical dream.
Good Lord, I love this stuff.
From all indicators, this cleverly designed modus operandi should last a long, long time.
I performed in front of an audience at the Polish Arts Festival at the Detroit State Fairgrounds in 1958. That's almost 50 years ago. Thank you, Lord, and pass the spiritual ammunition.
Ted Nugent is a Waco-based musician and television host.
