Here I sit on the night before I am to see him sing again for the first time in almost 18 years unable to sleep at 2 am. Even though deep down  I know it will make me look and feel really rough at his show tomorrow . That’s okay, though  he wont be able to see me this time. For the first time, I will be just another face in the crowd but he will  as always, be in the spotlight  on the stage.

The last time  I  saw  him I  was almost forty and I had known him since  was barely more than a child  and adored him  from almost the moment we met. When it ended,  I swore I would never think of him, or watch him,  look for him, or even listen to him  on the radio ever again and for over  15 years that’s exactly what I did . But it takes a lot of  emotional energy to stay that mad  at  someone and hate anyone for that long and that much.

I didn’t realize until I let it go how much work it had been all those years.

But I had almost immediately  came to  the  realization  as I started to work  on my memoir “Even Rock and Roll has Fairy Tales” that all that  hate and anger were  ruining the earliest  drafts of my book and  the only way  I would be able to tell this Fairies tale was to find  way  to forgive him  and I discovered  even fall for him again (just a little bit)  in order to tell my story in the way it should be told.

Through the eyes of that sheltered and innocent teenage girl who worshiped him and had no idea until it actually  happened exactly how  it was all going to end . As I began to tell the story i realized the only way to was going to work  was if I  was able to write about the good times as if the bad ones had ever happened.  So i did what you do and what I was dreading  had successfully managed to avoid dong  this time . I googled him. When I saw him for he first time on You Tube  I could barely  recognize him. I think that helped me begin to  forgive him.

How could such a sweet lovely chubby jolly  little old man who looked like Santa now be the obnoxious  notorious Eric Burdon of the Animals? That  raucous,  rowdy and  randy  baddest of  all the boys in the band boy who had  stumbled  into my life at 17 and  practically raised me  along  the highways  byway of the rock ad roll road to ruin,  A man I  was now  so angry  at and  so despised i had blocked every trace of  his very existence on our planet and completely  out of my mind and life  for almost two decades ?

As I worked on my book I found I had to watch him and listen to him, think about him  non-stop day and night for almost  two years . Not only did I have  to try to re-live every moment of it,  in order to get  it right i must become  become consumed by thinking of every little detail to transport me back  through  the last thirty five years.  I was putting myself into  a hypnotic state,  to recall every detail. Concentrating as  hard as I  could on the trivial things

“What color were the curtains in the hotel room in Philly?  How did Eric have his eggs in the morning, and did he have them with coffee or tea? What dress was I wearing that day? What shoes? What did he have on?  How did I get to the show?  What happened on the way there or home?”

Spending  hours meditating on every tiny detail i could remember , trying to play my mind back to bring it all into focus o i could replay it a again in my mind then on paper like cleaning the tape as you were rewinding a dvr and i was amazed  by how many important  and specific memories this technique brought back  for me when I could finally  replay it all again in full detail from beginning to end .

But by  going back  by sinking so  deeply in o the moments where he…  did what he did…  and about what I did …. not knowing any better, especially now when I knew how it all was  to turn out and feeling it all just as i did them   was not fun or easy. Remembering in the most accurate and infinite detail  while immersed in this trance- like heightened state of sensitivity.  Meanwhile I still  had to try to figure out how one goes about  actually writing their very first book .

Foolish little me, having no concept back then  of what it took to self publish, promote  and market a book  when you don’t have the deep pockets of a big publishing house or any publisher at all, for that matter, to tel the word our book exist so they  might consider buying it (  however  Eric having a huge come- back at the exact same time i finished  mine and got it on the shelf  certainly didn’t hurt in that repect) I can  still  remember  saying to myself  right  after i wrote with  huge flourish  THE END

” There, now that is done I can go back to never letting you  cross my mind again.”

Little did i know then I would end up  starting  “Eric Burdon knows Even Rock and Roll  has Fairy Tales” an Eric Burdon/Sherry Carroll books fan page  on FB  followed by thousands over the last three years. That I would be constantly surrounded by his legions of fans from all around the globe and I would end up still hearing his records almost non stop all day long , seeing his videos posted a  dozen of times  day, constantly  promoting him and myself all over the internet and social media  and endless hours talking about his life, his  career, and  music and  interacting with his fans non stop ever since.  so actually  instead of being rid of him  once  story had been told HE’S ALWAYS EVERYWHERE I GO!

I never really mind  too much  though , after all, for most of my life i was one of the most fervent of fans myself!  I was a huge fan of his extraordinary talent  and that amazing  voice long before i meet the man himself and long before he was he living legend he is now. But what they sometimes ail to understand  I have  had  very long and interesting life,  most of which I was paying absolutely no attention  at all to his after all these years.

That i am not, nor ever have been an expert on his every move or  have memorized all the trivia of his life  or music year after year . I don’t  know their  Eric Burdon, their Hero and   The Living Legend they think they do. I just know a man , as imperfect as any other, that I cared about very much once upon a time but who hurt me badly and that it sometimes  gets really old, really fast, when people want to talk to me about nothing else  but him day after day.

Most  of of you have probably got a x or two in your past  you would prefer  unexpectedly  dropped of the face of the earth  then to hear  from hundred of people on a daily basis about their great talent and  what wonderful human beings  they are.  Bleck!

So one must learn to grow a sense of humor about it or go mad!

And keep on plugging your book.

So when i found out six months ago he was coming here for two nights in February  my first reaction was I would rather stick flaming knitting needles in my eyes than go anywhere near those shows and that man again, and after my book I’m quite sure he feels the exact same way  about me. Even though I’ve forgiven him, mostly because i had no choice, I  still suspected if I were to ever find myself alone in he same room with him there is a  very good possibility i would end up kicking his elderly and  smacking  that  smirk right off his face before the end of the evening…

But a time went on  i felt myself gravitating towards the idea, pulled almost as if  fighting all the cosmic forces mighty wind and  having to hold on  for dear life  to keep  from going against my will  until one day  I realized I actually  did really  want to see for myself just how he  is  doing these days now that he 74 years old.  We are both getting old enough now   that one never knows when your next chance to see someone  who is a starring cast member in  the  story of your life  might be your last.

I have seen him on stage so many times but  never from the audience  only from the wings but I got brave,  bought  some tickets and  rounded up some supportive friends to go along to pass the numerous box of tissues  i am  quite  likely  going to  need to get through the entire show.

It just seemed like the right thing to do and if i didn’t  the day I read  the news he was gone and  knew I would truly never see or hear him speak  or sing again i would surely regret it forever .

I’m sure this  will continue to be the emotional equivilaat of  a extremely thrilling  and terrifying, shake, ratting and rolling carnival ride  and yet somehow a very familiar and  comfortable one  I  still felt very safe in , as I had been lovingly tucked into my spot  on this particular ride  since I was just a child.

And even though he wont see me sitting out there in the crowd,  instead of inside in the dressing room  I am  certain  he will know I am there.

Even Rock and Roll has Fairy Tales by Sherry Carroll on


I’ll admit, I’ve been a Chicago stalker since 1993. Ok, maybe stalker is a little harsh. Follower? Fan? By no means a groupie. I have never been backstage, although I would have given my left arm to ogle Bill Champlin in the flesh and get a pic with him.

Something about those horn-blaring, keyboard-playing, sexy older dudes rocking classic tunes just made my heart pump and pulse quicken. Now, 22 years later, I still get a rush when I watch them on stage.


Have I gone mad? my mother used to ask me, when I was a kid of 16. As a hazel-eyed, precocious, dreamer of a girl who spent her Sunday nights glued to the radio for Casey Kasem’s Countdown of the Top 20 Hits in the land, I was a certified odd duck. While other girls were out cruising in cars in boys, going to raves or bush parties, and lighting blunts, I was in my room like the perfect little Bible thumping, goody two-shoes, penning her romance novels, aka Danielle Steel style and shrieking when Cetera came on the radio with a ’70s or ’80s classic like Old Days or You’re The Inspiration.

No, Mommie Dearest, I did not lose my marbles. I simply found a band that spiked my heart rate better than any Stones or washed up rock band could do. All the other girls worshiped Kurt Cobain or Brad Pitt, but I had the image of Peter Cetera plastered all over the walls of my tiny room. She panicked, thinking I was going to run off to Idaho and find him.

When I discovered Cetera had left in 1985, I was bummed out, to say the least. But then, in June 1993, I decided to take a shot at seeing the boys in concert at a tiny pavilion called the Ontario Place Forum in Toronto. I spent six weeks cutting grass on the one acre spread at home, and my dad paid me a meager $15 a week. It was the Chicago concert, though, come hell or high water!!

There is a point to this rambling. And I will get to it. The band’s review is here, beneath the plethora of gushing. I promise.

From that pleasant first night of summer, June 21, 1993, I was hooked on Jason and the boys. That was when Mister Scheff wore those black sleeveless shirts, flaunting his huge biceps and adorable mop top of curls. Bill had that sexy growl, black leather vest and long silver hair in a poni-tail. Robert wore black spandex pants and a big purple shirt, hair in a blunt cut just grazing the shoulder.

Over the years, the guys from the Windy City have never let me down. Each show, mainly in the Toronto area, was fantastic. Back in the ’90s, they played Kingswood Music Theatre at Canada’s Wonderland or Casina Rama. Each time, my mother groaned, fussed, argued, and tried to come against my passion for “those old men again. When are you gonna grow out of this phase and give it up?” All the while, her condescending words fell on deaf ears. My sister and I got on that GO bus and headed for the show. I’m a stubborn Taurus, so I usually get my way. Miss a once-a-year show to see my boys? I’d rather die.

Fast forward to 2015. Now, with a new vocalist and keyboard player replacing Champlin, I wasn’t keen on hearing him sing. After all, I’d been spoiled by Jason and Bill singing “Hard Habit To Break” with that perfect blend of harmonies. The smokey, blues tone of Bill and the Cetera-esque vocals of Jason. How could a fill-in possibly emulate that?

Soon enough, I would find out I was wrong. I needed to give the “new guy” a chance. Who was I to judge this Lou Pardini character, anyways? I hadn’t heard a single note he ever sung. Come off it, girl. Just swallow your pride.

Earth, Wind and Fire were on double-billing with the boys. This was going to be a big deal!! Earlier in the week, I was stoked to be caller #7 on the local radio station CKDO when Chris Coppin answered the phone and asked: “CKDO…who is this?” I remember jumping up and down, shrieking, because for the life of me, I’d never won tickets to see my favorite band. For years, I’d spent piles of money on the tickets, never having the thrill of winning them for free. Here now was the moment, and I couldn’t be happier.

My sister and I arrived at the gig early.

11911513_10153259193208732_1257000067_n The lineup was huge. No one was let through the main gates til 6:40 p.m., and when finally, we all started milling through, I could feel my anxiety rising. Dammit, get me to the Keg pavilion pronto! You see, just that afternoon at 2:00 p.m., I was stoked to hear from The Keg restaurant on twitter.

They’d seen my Chicago-tagged tweet from the night before, stating how excited I was to see Jason and the boys. The Keg sent me a private message: “We’ll be there, too, Rochelle. Tell us the number of people in your group, and we’ll have complimentary drinks and food for everyone on the house.”

All I remember was running out of the house with fire in my heels and amped to the max to get to that concert. Free tickets to my favorite band AND free drinks and food? The gods must be smiling on me!!What the hell was happening with my karma lately?It seemed to be on steroids.

Finally, arriving at the venue, having some drinks and SUPERB appetizers, we all mingled with a small crowd. We were given laminated passes to wear around our necks. Sauntering around with food in one hand and a drink in the other, I was right in my glory.

Chicago came onto the stage around 7:45 p.m. The crowd went wild. They started the show with “Beginnings,” their classic hit from the early part of their career. Robert sounded smooth as ever. I watched him on the jumbo screen and turned to my sister. “Does that man never age? Look at that full head of hair. He’s 70 but looks 55.”

All the guys dress so well. Stylish jeans and a dark blazer, mostly. All sexy, all perfect eye candy for the ladies in the crowd. Something happens to a Chicago fan when we witness the guys come to the stage. There’s a collective moment of awe, then the cheering erupts. The chill through the body. The heart rate elevated. Our mood spikes, we become one with each other, all 16,000 of us.

This concert rocked my socks. Every song was pure magic, people grooving, dancing, laughing. Happy faces flooded the crowd and the joy that spread through that place was phenomenal.

The show ran about 3 hours and was well worth every penny. No bad review here. What else can I say? The weather was perfect, 18c/64f, not a cloud in site. The Full Moon shone in a cloudless sky, and the boats dotted the harbour over pristine Lake Ontario.

Jason and the guys covered all their big hits like “Make Me Smile” and “25 or 6 to 4,” and sang their hearts out. When Mr. Scheff belted out the classic “Street Player,” I shrieked with delight. It’s thrilling to hear the band revisit some old hits that were not previously covered in the set. I’ve heard over the years that they really love their fans. There’s no such thing as a bad Chicago performance, and I’ll vouch for that.

So when the new guy on keyboards came out and rocked the keys with his blond-streaked hair, black vest, white shirt and black pants, I was a believer. Gone was Champlin and his signature growl, but in his place was a soulful crooner named Lou Pardini.

At the risk of sounding weird, I’ll confess I have a thing for Mr. Lou. Besides, what’s not to love? Slick vocals, killer style and sex appeal that makes any hot-blooded woman from age 35-55 swoon with lust. Okay, okay. I’m being a little extra, but you get the picture.

Moral of the story, my boys did the show justice. They gave us a stellar performance, and made us proud of their 48 years of fantastic music. We came, we saw, we drank, we ate, we swooned. The band conquered.

By the end of the night, this tired little Chicago fan crawled into bed exhausted, yet fulfilled. Happy and sated, because my head was ringing with Robert crooning the words to Dialogue Part 1 & 2.

The last thing I remember was putting a clip of Lou on my smartphone, belting out “Call On Me” from the Montreal concert in 2012. Then I fell into a deep, satisfying slumber, with visions of hot older guys dancing in my head.

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Rochelle Renee: BIO


Born in a small town in Southern Ontario, Rochelle was writing by the age of 7. Her love of short stories graduated to novels at age 14. First, young adult equestrian stories, and later, adult romance. Her biggest writing influences are Lucy Maud Montgomery, Nora Roberts, and Danielle Steel. She is passionate about music and slates the band Chicago as her all time favorite. With five novels under her belt, Rochelle can be found burning the candle at both ends well into the night. She shares her century home with a teenage daughter, guinea pig and loveable Schnoodle named Shiloh. Rochelle writes about the healing power of love and hasn’t given up hope that her prince is out there waiting. She is a journalism graduate and holds a history/sociology degree.

From Sherry Carroll, Author  #EvenRockandRollhasFairyTales a R & R Memoir of  life  w #EricBurdon of #TheAnimals   Backstage adventures, humor and heartache. Sherry is ridiculously fun, smart, sexy, and outrageous!

Not a particularly remarkable name for quite an unusual young lady.

But that’s the only  Un Remarkable thing about our Gracie!

Before she gets everything her hard headed, tough talking, soft heart desires (and once you have met the Amazing Gracelynn you will have no doubt there’s any other option) She will have danced from kiddie beauty pageants to Broadway, on tables for dollars, and in diamonds (and not much else) for Rock and Roll Royalty and her way right into your heart! She will marry well, but go through hell, live and love hard, both hot and cold men with fortune and fame and sweet pretty boys with neither and will not be stopped until she has reached the very top!   READ FOR FREE


Sorry dude but yer street cred is all gone now. I’m afraid the thug life is no longer for you. I guess you are going to have to become a Dr or teacher or something . But if you are really keen on a life of crime you could always become a lawyer, a banker, a politicion, or the head of a major corporation


I refuse to believe it ! Lemmy is clearly indestructible!  He proved it to me the day we found ourselves trapped in an extremely small pitch black coat closet, all alone, for over three hours.  As you do.

Under extremely “stressful” circumstances. Any lessor men would have puked all over the front row and/or passed out, died or even (shudder) given in and checked into REHAB! Rather than perform immediately after the following events!

It all began when he quite cleverly lured me into a 3 by 3 foot janitors mop closet in a remote area of the backstage using only a mirror and a cheeky wink. Knowing young girls are naturally attracted to bright shiny objects I was helpless to do anything but follow. After squeezing our way in and having a lovely time for a half  hour or so  considering we  only  had a hand mirror to keep us amused ( even though we were completely unable to move at all as it was about the size of an average phone booth)  Unfortunately,  the woman he had flown in at great expense from very far away for that evenings gig eventually discovered our whereabouts and began to scream , pound and kick  the door with all her might and intended to do so until we emerged, which was clearly an extremely bad idea under the circumstances. We whispered and giggled and did the only thing we had room to do. Continue to play with our mirror. The first few hours were tremendously entertaining and enjoyable. Hour three with no apparent relief or rescue party in sight or destined to appear, were not so much. But one had to admire her strength, determination and stamina! Eventually as it became closer and closer to show time a search party was dispatched and at long last we were found! She was ejected from the premises and we were free!  If he could perform after that he is clearly immortal. I couldn’t sleep for four days. LONG LIVE LEMMY!
Motorhead were forced to cancel an appearance in Brazil after frontman Lemmy took ill. Motorhead are scheduled to play in Curitiba, Brazil, on Tuesday (April 28) and in Porto Alegre, also in Brazil, on Thursday (April 30). It is not yet clear whether Lemmy will be fit for the shows.

The singer/bass player had to pull out of Saturday’s scheduled appearance at Monsters Of Rock in Arena Anhembi, Sao Paulo, as he was struck down with stomach problems and dehydration.

Lemmy is undergoing tests in hospital and Motorhead’s slot was filled by a jam session involving guitarist Phil Campbell and drummer Mikkey Dee along with guests including Andreas Kisser and Derrick Green of Sepultura.

In a statement, festival organisers say: “Monsters Of Rock regrets to inform the public that Motorhead will not be able to carry out the performance scheduled for tonight.

“The lead singer Ian ‘Lemmy’ Kilmister, this morning suffered a serious gastric disorder, followed by dehydration. Lemmy has already had tests and been initially medicated, but on medical orders is unable to be present.”

Lemmy spent much of 2013 recuperating from a series of health setbacks which included several weeks in hospital after he suffered internal bleeding. He’d earlier been fitted with a defibrillator to deal with heart problems.

In October 2014, he revealed how he was “close to death” during his last round of surgery. The health worries forced him to clean up his lifestyle.

Judas Priest and Ozzy Osbourne are also on the bill for Monsters Of Rock.

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