Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

We hit Haight Street, I ate a muffin, and then we drove to the radio station, where it turned out I was doing two separate segments, one live during drive time and one being taped for use later on a weekend show that was syndicated nationally. Cool. During the live segment I played “Awash ( Read more... )

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

PART SEVENTEEN: May 1991

Unlike the Costa Mesa amphitheater, Shoreline is huge. Seats close to twenty thousand. I overheard some venue people talking before soundcheck that they hadn’t been expecting a sellout the way initial ticket sales had gone, but that eventually it had picked up and ( Read more... )

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

We didn’t end up stopping for pizza after all. We got a bad vibe about the place as we looked in. A big guy was shouting at the cashier in a rather belligerent way. We steered clear and ended up in the bar of a small hotel just on the other side of Market.

I ordered a bourbon and a bowl ( Read more... )

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

So in San Francisco we finally got to meet the reporter we were supposed to last time, the guy who’d gotten sick and they’d sent a woman in his place, the one Ziggy had gotten extra friendly with. If you ask me, the guy was kind of full of himself, but at least he seemed to know his stuff ( Read more... )

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

Remo and I walked for about a block in silence, climbing the hill toward the hotel, me propelled upward by energy and the feeling like I couldn’t quite get enough air into my lungs. Streetwalkers called to us, homeless-looking men shifted toward us and then away. It felt almost like New ( Read more... )

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

The Moroccan place was total decadence, everyone half-sitting, half-lying on these pillows on the floor, the walls all padded with complicated patterns like the set of a movie set in a harem. I half expected the low round tables to come complete with a hookah.

Chris and I and Bart sat ( Read more... )

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

The promoter’s guy, it turned out, had friends who ran a Moroccan restaurant and they often took bands there after a show for a little decadence and graft. Unlike some towns, Frisco had several competing promoters and they wanted to curry some favor. Pun intended. We went along with free ( Read more... )

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

It was when I made one more trip to the men’s room that I overheard something I probably wasn’t meant to. Okay, I know I wasn’t meant to by the people talking, that is.

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Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

I haven’t yet succumbed to the temptation to write a song about being on the road. I mean, jeezus, it’s all been done before, said before, it’s almost a cliché in and of itself to just be out there living the lifestyle.

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Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

Carynne picked up the phone like she really was going to make some calls, and I took it as a hint I should leave. Although if she was going to make calls there was no reason why I shouldn’t stay. But I had a feeling she wasn’t doing business-no day book out-so picking up the phone was a ( Read more... )