legacy

WASHINGTON — President Trump has frequently suggested he wants to seek a third term, posting about mounting another campaign, donning 2028 caps and discussing ways to make it happen — even as he’s acknowledged the Constitution prohibits it.

But lately, Trump has begun showing signs that even he doesn’t really believe another run will happen.

During recent speeches, the Republican president has begun describing life after the White House when his term ends in January 2029, predicting he’ll be at home and agonizing as his successor claims credit for his accomplishments.

“Your next president is going to say, ‘What a great job I did,’ ” Trump told an event on Long Island, N.Y., this month. “He’ll be sitting around, watching television. A real stiff. Unless you vote Republican, of course.”

A sitting president talking about becoming a former one is always politically fraught. But with midterm elections now just nine weeks away, Trump is approaching the point of his presidency where there will be more and more reminders that his power will soon wane.

Being willing to say he’s contemplating a White House without him marks a notable shift for Trump. Going back to his first term and from virtually the moment he won a second, he’s left the door open to staying put for more than eight years.

“He is all over the place,” said Brian Kalt, a Michigan State University constitutional law professor. “And what that does is, it allows him to point to his own words to support any number of mutually exclusive things.”

Trump can say, “ ’Oh, yeah, I made it clear that I wasn’t gonna run,’ ” Kalt said. “Or, if he decides that he will, he could say, ’Well, you know, I never said I wouldn’t.’ ”

Trump suggests his post-presidency may make him cry

The White House dismissed suggestions that Trump’s thoughts are increasingly turning to the clock running out on his presidency — and the legacy he’ll leave behind. Spokesperson Olivia Wales said he “is fighting every day” to deliver on promises to reduce violent crime, crack down on the U.S.-Mexico border and lower prescription drug prices.

“The only legacy President Trump is concerned with is making America greater than ever before,” Wales said.

Still, hinting at how he’ll be remembered is something Trump is suddenly talking about a lot.

During a recent Pennsylvania rally, he said, “Whoever the next president is, he’s going to be talking about what a brilliant president he is. And I’ll be home. And I’ll be saying, ’That son of a gun,’ because we did the job.”

A week later in Georgia, Trump was predicting that once his presidency was over, “I’ll be sitting home.”

“I may be crying,” the president added, arguing that Democrats could retake the Senate and scrap filibuster rules, making it easier to move their key legislation.

Then, in Michigan, Trump injected some doubt into whether he was ready to hand over the Oval Office and move back to Florida.

“In two and a half years, you may have a different president — may,” he said, emphasizing the “may.”

“I’ll be sitting home. I’ll be reading the papers. I’ll be watching television,” Trump said, before swiping at his predecessor, President Biden. “And I’ll be having some guy — like last time, a real idiot — stand up and say, ‘We are doing record business.’ ”

Mixed Trump signals are still most common

But even as he’s begun to suggest he’ll be leaving the presidency, Trump has also continued to tease a 2028 reelection run.

Addressing the rescheduled White House Correspondents’ Assn. dinner last month, Trump joked, “Just like my presidency, the second time is always better” and that “the third time will be better yet. I’m only kidding.” He later wore a 2028 campaign cap to finish the speech.

The Constitution’s 22nd Amendment says no one can be elected president more than twice. It was ratified in 1951, six years after President Franklin Delano Roosevelt died, months into his fourth term. Until Roosevelt, no other president had defied the tradition of stepping down after two terms that George Washington started.

Still, Trump had only been back in the White House for a couple of months when he told NBC News, “There are methods which you could” use to seek a third term.

He acknowledged that one method was to be the running mate to Vice President JD Vance in 2028 — then have Vance step aside if the pair won.

“There are others, too,” Trump said then, alluding to more options. He later told Time magazine, “There are some loopholes,” while also saying he didn’t believe in using them.

The president has since often used his social media posts to promote “Trump 2028” logos featuring his slogan “Make America Great Again.”

But Trump has also at times seemed definitive about the ban on him making another run, acknowledging recently to reporters: “I’d love to run, but the law is very strong.”

Kalt wrote about a two-term president possibly getting back to office by running for vice president in “constitutional Cliffhangers: A Legal Guide for Presidents and Their Enemies.”

“People do tend to find, in Trump’s words, whatever it is that they want to hear,” he said.

Trump may be fighting the ‘lame duck’ factor

Second-term presidents typically see their power and influence wane during their last two years, particularly if their party suffers big midterm defeats. But Trump’s comments could also be a sign he’s thinking about cementing his legacy, a stage that many of his predecessors also reached.

“They all, particularly as they cross the midpoint of their second term, start thinking about legacy,” said Paul Begala, a former adviser to President Clinton.

“They all banish the word. I know Clinton and Bush, they said, ’Can’t use the L-word.’ But they do,” Begala said, referring to his old boss Clinton and to President George W. Bush. “They all think about it. And the staff thinks about it and the Cabinet thinks about it.”

In his last two years of office, Clinton threw himself into trying to broker a Middle East peace agreement. Bush used the slogan “sprint to the finish” during his presidency’s final year in 2008, and Biden adopted a “run through the tape” ethos after abandoning his reelection bid.

Trump has leaned into molding the White House and Greater Washington in his own image, harkening back to his days as a real estate developer in 1970s and 1980s New York.

He’s ordered up a towering arch near the Lincoln Memorial and restored city fountains, while constructing a Rose Garden patio area and helipad on the White House lawn and adding scores of gilded touches to the building’s stately interior and exterior.

And then, there’s the massive ballroom that Trump has crews rushing to finish in the face of legal challenges — a project the president says will only be completed late in 2028, shortly before he leaves office.

“It’s not for me, ‘cause I’m going to be here a very short period of time” when the work is finished, Trump recently told reporters in the Oval Office. “I’ll be there for four, five, six months. This is for future presidents.”

Weissert writes for the Associated Press.

Dolly Parton was the last star in music everyone in America could agree on. Her brilliant career as a carefully-sculpted backwoods icon (one with unmatched insight into the human heart) told the nation stories it craved to hear about itself — songs about resilience and dignity under poverty and labor, how to hold conflicting feelings of devotion and loss. None of the canon of extras — the charmingly ramshackle Dollywood theme park, the purehearted children’s literacy initiatives, the rhinestone cowgirl aesthetics — would be possible without one of the most emotionally attuned, beautifully performed and broadly reaching catalogs in American music.

She is one of the finest singer-songwriters this country ever produced, and it’s inconceivable to sum up her catalog in just an LP’s worth of tunes. But Parton — the songwriter, the vocalist, the instrumentalist, the collaborator — only ever wanted to invite a listener in, wherever they arrive from. Here are 10 songs to start with.

Coat of Many Colors (1971)

The foundational text of Parton’s career, this 1971 single lovingly details her mother’s make-do resilience, stitching a fall coat from scraps of cloth in the spirit of a beloved Bible story. Its storytelling economy is just as crafty, finding splendor with humble tools, and distills Parton’s whole persona into one perfect song.

Touch Your Woman (1972)

You could spend tens of thousands on couple’s therapy and never get as good advice as “We can’t always both be right, we sometimes disagree / But you’ve got the right to speak your mind and it’s the same with me / When the anger’s at an end, and you want inside my arms again / All you have to do to make it right is just / Touch your woman.”

Jolene (1974)

Try to forget how ubiquitous this song is in pop culture, even though it’s been covered by Beyoncé (who laced her own domestic strife into a version), the White Stripes and Parton’s goddaughter Miley Cyrus. Listen to how eerie the thing actually is, how the harmonies capture the desperation, panic and preemptive grief of losing a love to someone whose appeal is undeniable. Nothing that haunted can ever be overplayed.

I Will Always Love You (1974)

Any songwriter should be so lucky — to have one of your hallmark tunes be lovingly swept out from under you and become one of the definitive ballads of pop music. Whitney Houston’s powerhouse version stands alone, but Dolly’s quieter, mournful ode to her collaboration with Porter Wagoner is the artful, formative sketch to a colossal mural.

The Bargain Store (1975)

Taking the themes of “Coat” in intimate new directions, there’s a pained, darker tang to lines like “Take these old, used memories from the past / And these broken dreams and plans that didn’t last / I’ll trade them for a future, I can’t use them anymore.” A perfect distillation of Parton’s themes and craftsmanship, where melancholy and resilience fight it out in the empty spaces.

Two Doors Down (1977)

One of Parton’s first forays into purer pop, this single has the stomp and shuffle of funk and could easily be retrofitted into disco DJ sets. Soul horns and synths liven the production up, but it all underlines how far her writing and vocal performances could travel through genres.

9 to 5 (1980)

The song that made Parton a true pop crossover, a movie star with Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin and an Oscar nominee. But don’t let the relatable career-girl pluck of the movie dilute the fact that this song is pissed off about capitalism, even as its hooks make the grind of working life more bearable.

Old Flames (Can’t Hold A Candle To You) (1980)

Dolly chose her covers carefully, but even she couldn’t have known how full-circle this would come around. A take on songwriter Pebe Sebert’s ballad that went to No. 1 on the country charts in 1980, Sebert’s daughter Kesha would eventually return the favor with a version decades later, two women who turned an act playing ditzy into resonant, affecting music.

To Know Him Is To Love Him (1987)

Parton’s pen and persona had no equals, but she was an enthusiastic collaborator as well, from her early partnership with Porter Wagoner up to her 2023 hard rock LP. She was at her best with the women of Trio, a supergroup with Linda Ronstadt and Emmylou Harris, and this regal single of nascent, unrequited commitment is as lovely as they come.

Smoky Mountain Memories (Live – 1994)

Parton was a virtuoso at staying, if not apolitical, at least a neutral zone of relatability for conservatives and leftists alike, each of whom had ways to read their lives into her storytelling. A song like “Smoky Mountain Memories,” a gut-wrenching live rework of an earlier song, lent dignity to her family’s toil and loneliness, while raging against the circumstances that created it — “It takes all I’ve got to give what life demands / Oh, you go insane if you give into it.”

Germany splits

At least two generations on both Guetinger’s maternal and paternal sides were from Babenhausen, a small Bavarian market town of about 4,000 people in the 1960s. Surrounded by a castle, it was once home to a merchant family said to have been prominent during the Middle Ages.

Guetinger’s father, Ernst, was among five siblings and the youngest of the three boys. Hans was the eldest, followed by another brother, Erich, and there was a four-year age gap between Ernst and Hans. Guetinger said this age difference played a role in his father’s and uncle’s relationship.

“My dad and uncle Hans didn’t have a very close relationship because they had grown up during wartime,” he said. “When war broke out in 1939, Uncle Hans was obliged to serve as a soldier.”

Soldiers were in short supply, so German boys aged 16 and 17 were drafted as “Flakhelfer” to work with anti-aircraft guns or man the huge lights that tracked enemy aircraft.

“My Uncle Erich was in this age range so served in this role, but my dad, being the youngest, did not have to serve,” he added.

After Nazi Germany’s defeat in 1945, the country was divided into occupation zones and then formally split into two separate countries in 1949.

Hans returned to Babenhausen, Bavaria, after the war and looked for work as a shoemaker. But jobs were scarce, and he had trouble finding work.

Amid their struggles, Hans’s homesick wife encouraged him to try finding work in the GDR, where she was from. They knew they would be welcomed, because the GDR was keen on people willing to buck the trend of those going west – roughly 2.7 million people moved to West Germany between 1949 and 1961 – for better economic and employment opportunities.

In 1958, Hans’s family moved east to Brieskow-Finkenheerd, a village near the Polish border, where Hans started working at a power station that also provided their accommodation. He was also able to indulge in his love of hunting as much as he liked.

“He was very happy hunting,” Guetinger remembered fondly. “In West Germany, you could only hunt if you owned land, but since the government owned all the land in the GDR, my uncle was told he could hunt wherever he wanted.”

Hans became so well known for his hunting abilities that when the big cadres wanted to celebrate something and eat some tasty meat like boar or wild swine, they would ask Hans to go hunting.

“The party had its own hunters, but they considered my uncle one of the best,” Guetinger said.

Meanwhile, Hans’s younger brother Ernst, back in Bavaria, became a father to Erich Guetinger in 1951.

In the 1950s, freedom of movement between the two countries remained largely unrestricted, but from the 1960s onwards, tougher measures were instituted. After that, East Germans were generally only allowed to travel to the West for urgent family matters, such as funerals or weddings.

In August 1961 – 65 years ago – the East German government began building the Berlin Wall, a 155km (96 miles) concrete structure surrounding West Berlin that effectively isolated it within GDR territory and severed the capital.

Outside Berlin, efforts to fortify the division led to the installation of new barbed wire fences, detectors, watchtowers, as well as booby-traps and extended powers for border guards to shoot and arrest escapees. Between then and 1989, when the wall came down, an estimated 75,000 people were imprisoned for trying to escape.

Guetinger says that in the early years of the division, there was barely any contact with his uncle and family.

“Eventually, we were able to start sending letters, but we shared very little in these because everybody knew the East German secret police, known as the Stasi, would carefully check the post between families, often reading our letters,” he said.

Like many families in West Germany, the Guetingers would often send Western products to their relatives in the East.

“For Christmas, we made parcels containing things we knew they would like, and which we knew it would be difficult for them to get, such as coffee and blue jeans,” Guetinger said.

“Blue jeans were particularly hot property, and my cousins liked this kind of clothing. And even though we would send parcels, there was always a chance that they wouldn’t reach them,” he explained, noting that shipments were closely monitored.

Guetinger says it is still hard to fully assess how the day-to-day disruption caused by the division impacted their family’s sense of safety and unity.

“Even if my parents had a heavy heart back then, they would rarely talk about it, so today, I have to rely on other indicators to try and understand. And one of the indicators is that my dad and his elder brother tried to visit each other as soon as it was possible for both of them.”

Welcome back to this week’s Lakers newsletter, where we’ve apparently never heard of an offseason.

During an allegedly sleepy period on the NBA schedule, the Lakers shook everyone awake with a blaring alarm. Twice.

Mark Walter, 14 months after agreeing to buy the NBA’s premier franchise, is selling his controlling stake in the Lakers to Joshua Kushner and Bob Iger at a staggering $12.5 billion valuation that would be the highest in sports history. When Kushner and Iger seemed poised to cash in even more after a reported Buss family vote to sell remaining shares of the team, team governor Jeanie Buss said emphatically, “Not today.”

Buss is contesting her family’s reported plan to sell its remaining 17.8% of the team to Iger and Kushner. Her lawyers issued a scathing letter saying her younger brothers are “doing harm to the Los Angeles Lakers,” and that she should remain the controlling governor of the Lakers, as described in the family trust.

One 47-year reign in the NBA hangs in the balance this week. Quietly, another 18-year run has already concluded.

‘Just a kid from inner city L.A.’

Russell Westbrook with the Clippers in 2023.

(Matt York / Associated Press)

Reggie Morris Jr. won’t just remember the way Russell Westbrook changed basketball. Even after Westbrook’s retirement, his former high school coach chooses to see the way the former Lawndale Leuzinger star is changing the city that raised him. That’s even more important than the NBA record 209 triple-doubles.

“I believe that his impact on this community,” Morris said, “is far greater than his basketball impact.”

Westbrook was once just a short kid with size 14 shoes and an even bigger chip on his shoulder. He grew into an electrifying guard at UCLA, where he went to two Final Fours. He blossomed into one of the most productive, yet polarizing, players in NBA history. Through it all, he remained dedicated to the community that would later fail to fully embrace his no-holds-barred playing style.

The L.A. native was named NBA most valuable player in 2017. The same season, when Morris was coaching at Loyola Marymount, Westbrook reached out about starting an Elite Youth Basketball League team for young players.

Westbrook set the NBA record for triple-doubles and averaged a season-long triple-double four times. Between the stat-stuffing performances, he launched Why Not Premier, an EYBL girls team with the same resources and investment as the boys.

The 2012 Olympic gold medalist was named to the NBA’s 75th anniversary team in 2021 after snarling, dunking and driving with full force every play, every night. On the way, he regularly returned to his hometown.

“Before he was a walking headline,” actor Michael B. Jordan said in a video Westbrook posted on social media last Wednesday for his retirement announcement, “he was just a kid from inner city L.A. who could jump higher than anybody had a right to.”

The video shows Westbrook walking through a museum of his basketball career then into an unfinished wing that represents “the mentorship, the foundation, the kids who are going to grow up wanting to move just like he did … [that] hasn’t been built yet either.”

Tributes to Westbrook flooded in. Fifteen-year-old highlight reels showing baggy shorts, jaw-dropping athleticism and a crossover that nearly shook defenders out of their shoes popped up on social media again. Even his own high school coach had forgotten just how dynamic Westbrook was in his prime.

“He didn’t back down from anybody,” said Morris, now the director of Westbrook’s Team Why Not EYBL team and the boys’ basketball head coach at Redondo Union. “He was fearless. He was relentless. There’s never really been a player quite like him. I would say he kind of has, like, a Charles Barkley, a young Charles Barkley spirit, where he was just passionate and fiery. He wasn’t PC. He wore his emotions on his sleeves, and he didn’t really apologize to anyone for how he felt or what he was there to do.”

Westbrook’s unapologetic attitude became a defining characteristic of his game. He was defiant. He was dynamic. He was exciting and explosive, but exhausting.

After 11 seasons with the Oklahoma City Thunder, where the Thunder went to the playoffs nine times with one NBA Finals appearance, Westbrook was traded to the Houston Rockets. When he got to the Lakers in 2021, it was his fourth team in as many seasons.

Russell Westbrook brings the ball upcourt for the Lakers.

(Michael Conroy / Associated Press)

Westbrook’s two-year run with the Lakers was “bittersweet” for Westbrook, Morris said. Returning to the community that raised him was expected to be a triumphant homecoming. But the team struggled, his efficiency waned and fans turned on him. He became a punch line and a negative example of LeBron James’ potential influence after the superstar lobbied for the trade that brought Westbrook to L.A. He sparred with reporters.

The public feuds started to overshadow what those close to Westbrook know him to be in private: a maniacal hard worker with a competitive streak that demands respect.

“A lot of people looked at the emotions on the court and thought Russ was loud,” Durant wrote in a poignant note on X. “Nah to me, he was quiet and methodical. He [led] by example and once the lights were bright, he let everything out and experienced pure freedom. It was inspiring as his teammate and everywhere I went, I seen it inspire people from all walks of life.”

Westbrook will now inspire away from the court. When Nike reached out to Westbrook about starting an EYBL team, he knew where to go with the idea. He hadn’t been part of the regular travel ball circuit growing up and instead stuck closely with his local coaches, including Morris. He wanted that same loyal experience for his youth team.

Westbrook’s Team Why Not expanded to include a girls program Why Not Premier in 2022. His wife, Nina, also played basketball at UCLA, and the couple has been a strong supporter of the UCLA women’s basketball program.

Westbrook, who often trained at UCLA’s basketball facility that the men’s and women’s programs share, would readily share knowledge with UCLA’s women’s players, UCLA women’s basketball coach Cori Close said. He welcomed them in workouts, showed them what food he had packed in Tupperware containers to stay on a healthy diet and encouraged them to train for long, productive careers.

“There’s so much bad press about, ‘Oh, college athletes or pro athletes are just a bunch of takers, they all are about money first,” Close said, “and the Westbrooks, and specifically Russ and Nina, they’re about giving back and they’re about making a difference.”

Even during the season, Westbrook made himself available to players on his EYBL teams as often as possible, visiting between playoff runs or at least supporting them through social media.

“They feel his presence when he’s there, and he’s hands-on in the situation,” Morris said. “He’s not just giving money; he’s trying to help the kids, give them a different aspect or a different take on what he knows and give it back to them.”

Jared McCain is one of Team Why Not’s most prominent alumni. The 22-year-old Oklahoma City guard posted a picture from his EYBL days to his Instagram story last week showing Westbrook with his arm wrapped around McCain’s waist.

“Legend!!” wrote McCain, who graduated from Corona Centennial. “Thank you for everything.”

Morris and Westbrook had talked about the end more often lately. They knew if not this year, it would have probably been next year. Morris could never have envisioned the career was going to be this decorated, but the longtime coach knew it was going to be successful. If he hadn’t become a future Hall of Famer, Westbrook would have easily become a president of a successful company, Morris said.

Don’t rule it out for his second act.

“When you have a work ethic like his, it’s just part of who he is,” Morris said. “It’s not gonna go anywhere.”

Best thing I ate this week

Signature beef udon at Azuki in Seattle.

(Thuc Nhi Nguyen / Los Angeles Times)

This technically isn’t the best thing from this week, but I needed to share this extra food gem from my hometown. Azuki’s unassuming storefront in Seattle’s Capital Hill neighborhood is easy to miss but the homemade udon noodles should not be overlooked. The signature beef udon noodles had a simple, light broth that leaves the perfect amount of salty coating on your tongue. The thin slices of beef are perfect with the chewy udon noodles. The only way the meal would have been better was if it was on a cold winter day.

In case you missed it

Jeanie Buss contests family sale of Lakers ownership stake to Bob Iger, Joshua Kushner

Inside Lakers mega-deal: Mark Walter made a shocking decision. Bob Iger, Joshua Kushner jumped at the chance

Lakers again have most nationally televised games on their schedule

Shaikin: Some questions (and answers) about Mark Walter selling the Lakers

Swanson: Bob Iger could be the Imagineer to lead the Lakers back to glory

$12.5 billion deal: Bob Iger and Joshua Kushner agree to buy Lakers

New Lakers co-owner Joshua Kushner is a lifelong Democrat with deep interest in sports

Plaschke: Too many questions, not enough answers. Lakers sale doesn’t pass smell test

LeBron James set to return to L.A. on Christmas Day for Lakers-76ers matchup

Until next time…

As always, pass along your thoughts to me at thucnhi.nguyen@latimes.com, and please consider subscribing if you like our work!

In the private home studio left behind by his father, Shane Hawkins is hitting the drums hard. The teenager behind the kit is locked into “Driven to Tears,” the Police’s reggae-charged protest song, channeling its sharp, syncopated beats with controlled fury.

His long blond hair swings across his face as Hawkins loses himself in the moment, tapping into a brisk echo of ’80s rock. He then shifts into the thundering blues of Black Sabbath’s “The Wizard,” driving into the heavier groove while surrounded by the instruments, gear and treasured memorabilia of his late father, Foo Fighters drummer Taylor Hawkins, who died in 2022.

Joining him in this rehearsal are bassist Wiley Hodgden and guitarist Brent Woods, who played hard-rocking cover songs in Taylor’s side project Chevy Metal for more than two decades. After Taylor’s death, the Foo Fighters carried on, but Chevy Metal were certain they could not. Shane changed that.

“Wiley and I were in agreement, like, it’s done,” says Woods. “Shane was the one that said, ‘I want to do Chevy.’”

For Taylor’s son, the band was one more thing he didn’t want to let go.

“It was a part of my childhood and it’s like, my dad was gone and these people that I’ve watched my whole childhood, they’re still there,” says Shane, 19. “Why not keep something going? And it’s just honoring my dad, you know?”

Most of the music world first saw Shane behind the drums during Foo Fighters’ performance of “My Hero” at the Taylor Hawkins tribute concert at Wembley Stadium on Sept. 3, 2022. He was 16 and already obsessed with drums, but he says it wasn’t until that moment that he knew he wanted to devote his life making music.

“It was a gnarly time,” Shane recalls. “You had to pull that off. You can’t really f— that up.

“I played for a lot of people, and there’s only one feeling like that — especially playing the drums. Once you do that, you never want to do anything else.”

With Chevy Metal, Shane is in a band committed to playing songs mostly created before he was born, with a typical setlist including songs by Van Halen, Led Zeppelin, Queen, the Rolling Stones, Talking Heads, Rush and the Doors. His presence now means leaning more often into classic punk rock. During their live sets, Shane will usually take the mic to growl through the Bad Brains’ speedy “Big Takeover,” pacing the stage and banging his head.

“We’re playing the Germs now,” says Woods. “We’re playing Black Flag, which we never did before.”

Shane Hawkins plays drums with Chevy Metal at the Viper Room.

(Steve Appleford)

Chevy Metal shows routinely feature surprise guests. Dave Grohl and other Foos have frequently appeared. So have Mick Jagger and players from Queen, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Guns ‘N Roses and more. Even tennis star John McEnroe once joined the band on guitar at a Malibu gig, alongside his wife, singer Patty Smyth.

One regular guest is Lee Ving, singer for the pioneering L.A. punk band Fear. “Lee is like the elder statesman, and then we got Shane, who is so young,” Hodgden says of the age range. “You never see that unless it’s maybe a church band or something.”

Another regular is Anthrax guitarist Scott Ian, a family friend whose son Revel also plays music with Shane.

“He’s a great dude and he is a monster drummer,” Scott says of Shane. “I sit and I watch him and Revel play together. It’s so great to see, especially in a world where a lot of younger kids don’t pick up instruments anymore. They live, eat, sleep, breathe, bleed, rock music.”

Until this month, the resurrected Chevy Metal could only perform during Shane’s breaks from his boarding school on the East Coast, but he is newly graduated and ready to play. The trio performs Saturday at Alex’s Bar in Long Beach as part of a series of shows that will take the band to the U.K. Shane is also working with other young players on new material.

“He’s already jamming with kids his own age and friends that he’s had for years, and starting his own project,” says Woods. “But this is good for him to learn, just to play in different venues and travel around and get his feet wet playing covers.”

Chevy Metal once served a similar purpose for Taylor, a favorite pastime alongside his Foo Fighters work. Hodgden has been part of the Foo Fighters crew for 24 years, both on the road and at their studio 606, starting as Taylor’s drum tech. Before that, he was a bartender newly arrived from Oklahoma that the drummer befriended.

In 2002, Hodgden and original guitarist Achim “Dange” St. Dangerfield started the band as an acoustic duo doing cover songs. Taylor was a regular, Hodgden says, turning to Shane. “There’d be two drunks at the bar, and then your dad sitting there heckling us,” Hodgden says with a laugh. “We go into ‘Hotel California,’ and he’s like, ‘Oh, great song choice, guys.’”

The Foos drummer soon wanted in.

“Taylor was trying to come up with names and he’s like, ‘How about Chevy Metal?’ And I said, ‘Well, you can’t really name the band. You’re not in it,’” Hodgden adds. “But we jammed all the time up at his house, and then one day we’re playing and it sounded good. And Taylor stood up and said, ‘I’m gonna be your drummer and we’re gonna call it Chevy Metal.’ And I was like, that’s a rad name.”

“He got to be the boss in this band and steer the ship and do whatever he wanted,” says Hodgden. “But also it was low pressure and it was all about fun.”

Taylor filled much of his downtime making more music. Aside from Chevy Metal, he recorded new songs with the Coattail Riders (which included Woods) and, earlier, the Birds of Satan (including Hodgden).

“He never stopped,” Woods recalls. “He would call me at 7 a.m. and go, ‘What are you doin? Get up here!’ He’d go to bed probably at midnight, one o’clock, and he’s up taking the kids to school, he’s mountain biking, and he’s ready to roll. I was still sleeping, but he would be up every day wanting to create and work.”

Woods saw Chevy Metal’s first show with Taylor at Abuelitas in Topanga Canyon in 2002. After Dange moved up north to work as a teacher, Woods eventually became Chevy Metal’s new guitarist. Woods grew up in Burbank and took guitar lessons from Randy Rhoads, best known for his work on Ozzy Osbourne’s early solo albums.

“He was such a great lead player, but he was adamant that if you can’t play rhythm, it doesn’t matter how great of a lead player you are,” Woods says of Rhoads, who emphasized “rhythm and feel.”

“I wouldn’t be sitting here right now if it wasn’t for Randy teaching me.”

Growing up initially in Topanga Canyon, the first beat Shane learned to play was the thunderous drum fill from Phil Collins’ “In the Air Tonight.” Then came Deep Purple’s “Smoke on the Water” and the Rolling Stones’ “Miss You.” By 13, he was spending hours each day practicing alone in the basement at his boarding school.

“There were no other kids that really played at the school, so I’d just sit down and play,” he says.

Shane grew up watching both Foo Fighters and Chevy Metal shows. “I’d sit behind my dad and watch him play and watch people just go crazy,” says Shane. “And as a kid, you think that’s the coolest thing in the world, because it is. It’s the best feeling.”

The band Chevy Metal — bassist Wiley Hodgden, left, drummer Shane Hawkins and guitarist Brent Woods — gestures downstairs at the Viper Room on the Sunset Strip.

(Steve Appleford)

Taylor’s home studio was built in a guest house behind his family’s home in Hidden Hills, a gated community on the northern edge of the San Fernando Valley. Inside, the walls are still covered with his guitars, posters, photographs and other relics from his favorite artists: Aerosmith, Rush, Bowie, Jane’s Addiction and Soundgarden.

The reborn Chevy Metal still rehearses in what Woods describes as Taylor’s “man cave.”

“He put a lot of work into making this room what it is right now,” says Shane. “I remember him precisely making sure every picture was hung up in the exact place. And every banner was hung perfectly and every speaker was placed perfectly for your ear.”

The band recorded a lot of songs here with Taylor, and they hope to release some of that material from the vault. They plan on more recording with his son.

Before Shane graduated high school, the last time Chevy Metal played a hometown show was at the Viper Room on New Year’s Eve. It was also a gathering of rock ’n’ roll families, as second-generation musicians took turns onstage with Chevy Metal, representing the offspring of Guns ‘N Roses, Jane’s Addiction and Anthrax.

During the sound check, the band ran through songs by U2 and Foreigner, and Shane hammered the drums at full volume. Afterward, he was chatting with Scott Ian, who advised him: “You never want to be great at dress rehearsal. You want to be good at dress rehearsal, and then be great at the show.”

Shane nodded, but for now, he says he can only play at one level: loud.

As Shane sat in the dressing room before Chevy Metal’s set, Jane’s Addiction drummer Stephen Perkins walked in, asking, “Where’s the drummer?” Then he spotted Shane, smiled, grabbed his hand and said, “There he is!”