Well, it has been a really odd month for me, as I can imagine it has been for others; the US economy is in the sh*tter, the Dodgers didn’t make it to the World Series (we had to sit through that HORRIBLE Rays-Phillies series…yuk) and we had a long, nasty, polarizing presidential race that had the country chewing it’s nails and losing sleep.

I apologize for emails I have not returned and for any free CDs I promised to mail but have not. I, like many other Americans, have been working a lot of overtime, which has left me drained and humorless. But, my bills are being paid on time and I (thankfully) do not have a morgage to pay since we rent.

I have been on the lucky receiving end of a nice Numark turntabke that my wonderful and thoughful missez bought me. So, one of the things that has brought me some real joy (along with some cool old school youtube concerts i get from Ohio Fritz!)is shopping for LPs, something I first started doing when i was 6 years old. By the time i was 13 i had about 300 records and by the time I was 22 (and working for Bob Say, who owned Moby Disc Records in Santa Monica – but now co-owns Freakbeat Records in Sherman Oaks)I had a good 2,000 LPs.

Somewhere along the way I seperated from my turntable and lost a part of myself. But I now have that part of me back againa and I feel exceptionally free and lucky to have this turntable. I can’t thank Hannah enough. Of course she made this purchase at her own expense, in that she knew she wouldn’t be shopping for a bit. That’s love. Because Hannah can shop.

I spoke to Rusty Tuesday night and he’s enjoying his new life in Sheffield, England. Of course i try to tease him and entise him back, you know, telling him how nice the weather is here in L.A. and how sh*tty the weather is in England. But, hey, him and Lucy are as happy as to peas in a pod and I couldn’t be happier for the lad. Unforunately, a ways back I had to inform Rusty of some rather bad news.

A very close friend of ours, Ryan Beachkofski, had passed away suddenly. “Beach”, as he was so affectionately known, was a good drummer, songwriter and one of the best pals a guy could ever ask for. We shared so many good times and he was always someone you could count on. His family knew how much he cared about his friends and arranged for his favorite pub to have a “Beach Night” at the Pitcher Club in Redondo Beach. Even his x-girlfriend from 20 years ago was there, dancing her heart out to the house band. And that’s how Beach would have wanted it. Originally from the Bay Area (Palo Alto), Beach was a HARD CARE San Francisco 49ers fan and I spent many Superbowl parties at his house watching Joe Montana and Steve Young throw touchdowns every five minutes.

The way life brought us together was special and unique.

in the summer of 1986 Rusty and I had a Ska/Mod band called, “Bad Press”. We used to go up to Santa Barbara every weekend and play house parties and fraternities for like $300-500 a gig, which was usually two 90-minute sets. Well, one gig we played someone rang the PoPo and around the 5th song the cops were shutting the gig down. This short, plumpy surfer-looking guy with a smile as wide as Catalina said we were welcome to set up in his back yard and jam. He instructed everyone at this party to grab a piece of equipment and follow him. So there we were, about 100 people grabbing guitars, drums, microphones, amps, speakers, cables and folling this guy 2 blocks down the road.

Within 30 minutes we were set up and jamming again and Beach had taken a collection, ran to the store and purchased to Kegs. The party was in full effect and we’d made a new friend. We visited Ryan Beachkofski every week from 1986 to 1988. I then moved to Santa Barbara for a year and Beach and I started a cover band with a guy named Dave (from the swinging Tiki’s) and a guy named Chris from the Heebie Jeebies. We first attempted to name the band “Milwaukee’s Best” after the only beer we could afford, but then changed it to “Officer Lupner”, after the cop who used to bust our parties up.

All those years, Beach and I never had a dissagreement, never had a ‘weird moment’ or anything. We were just great pals. And when he got married a few years back we all respected his space and let him get on with that part of his life. At 40, he was definitely too young to go. But Beach certainly lived his life for his friends, community, family and himself and his love for music never, ever, for 1 nano-second, stopped.

Each soul who knew him will forever miss him but will always smile 100 times for each tear they shed because he was that kind of guy.

Mike Randle