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

My eyes took a while to absorb the words on the back of the record cover, maybe because of the low light level, which remember Jordan had done supposedly for the good of my concussion. (Maybe it had worked, too, because I felt fine, if tired.) The single in my hands, I learned once the words sank in, was a fundraiser for an AIDS awareness group. The song and the musical group were both called “Positive Thinking.” There was a blurb about the importance of non-discrimination of HIV status right under the photo of my old roommate Roger and four other men I can only describe as flagrantly flaming. All looked healthy but the implication was that they were all HIV positive.

The tips of my fingers felt numb.

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ceciliatan: (darons guitar)
( Oct. 4th, 2016 09:16 am)

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

Jordan threw a Concussion Party for me. I’m not kidding. I don’t know who told him what was going on but what we found when we got to his place was ambient techno burbling in the background from a new surround-sound speaker system he’d recently installed and ambient lighting low.

The first person I saw after walking in the door was Bradley, looking very doe-eyed, clutching a beer and standing at the edge of the kitchen counter. Before I could get to him, though, Marvelle intercepted me. I swung my left hand toward him and he, like Artie, didn’t blink, just locked fingers with me thumb-wrestling-style and clapped me on the back of the shoulder with his other hand. “Gonna bubblewrap you, man. Make a Daron-shaped foam cut out and put you in an Anvil case.”

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ceciliatan: (darons guitar)
( Jan. 19th, 2016 09:00 am)

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

That night I asked Ziggy super-casually if we could hit Limelight. I had no idea if Jordan would be there but he had been at least half the times I’d gone over the past couple of years, even when he wasn’t deejaying, and in the far back of my head I had this inkling that I wanted to talk to him. But I was too busy trying to play everything casual until I could sort out how I felt about the album. Or until I could warm up to it.

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ceciliatan: (darons guitar)
( Dec. 31st, 2015 09:00 am)

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

The guys had not left town. They’d crashed at Jordan’s and Jordan was playing host, therefore we caught up with them at Limelight–Carynne included. Bart had clued her in to what we’d done and so she came down to put her head together with Jordan and me to figure out what the fuck to do with a record we weren’t expecting to make.

“It’s fucking brilliant,” I heard Jordan tell her. We didn’t actually talk with Jordan at Limelight, though, just celebrated.

I did tell her one thing, though, while we were lying side by side on a tuffet in the spacey trippy room when we got tired from dancing.

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ceciliatan: (darons guitar)
( Apr. 21st, 2015 10:00 am)

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

That night there was something of a party at the hotel. Not an official industry type party, nothing that formal, although there were some industry people there. Like Jordan. And some friends. Like Matthew. I guess it was more of a mass hangout than a party, do you know what I mean?

I had a long conversation with Matthew about essentially nothing, which was really kind of nice, you know? He was doing well, so was his partner, one of his photos had been picked for some prestigious thing I didn’t quite get the name of, but mostly we just…talked. I know most people take for granted that talking with an old friend should be easy but I never take any social situation for granted. I have the ability to fuck them up no matter how stress free they should be.

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ceciliatan: (darons guitar)
( Feb. 10th, 2015 10:00 am)

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

(The site was down a bit over the weekend so if you haven’t read the Liner Notes yet, now’s a good time to: http://daron.ceciliatan.com/archives/3884)

It’s hard for me to judge just how fast I got jaded or even exactly when it happened. They say taking a hit hardens you, and I had taken three pretty hard ones, basically–one from Digger, one from Mills, and one from Ziggy–but you know, I can’t even say it was that. Working with Sarah, working the studios in LA, working with Jordan… I learned pretty intimately how the damn sausage is made. And the illusions I had clung to, those last few about alternative rock being special–about Moondog Three being special–Jordan stripped away pretty forcefully. He forced me to be a realist, I guess.

I always accepted certain things as fact. I accepted that I worked in an industry that fucked people over often and didn’t necessarily reward talent. But I didn’t accept that people had to be dicks or that the dicks had to always win.

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ceciliatan: (darons guitar)
( Feb. 5th, 2015 10:00 am)

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

(Reminder: there’s a ‘Moondog Fan Club’ email list. We haven’t send much of anything to it, but when there’s news, we will? Sign up at Mail Chimp: http://eepurl.com/-_Fxj)

I took the Fender into the studio and shook hands with the guys in the band du jour, and we shot the breeze for a little while about how they were liking New York: not much, actually. They were freezing their butts off.

“Back home it’s eighty-five degrees today,” the bass player complained. “You always read about these bands from England going to record in the Caribbean in the winter and shit. Why’d we come here?”

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ceciliatan: (darons guitar)
( Feb. 3rd, 2015 10:00 am)

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

Then there was the day Jordan and I had a fight.

That day we had moved from the regular studio where we had been working over to Electric Lady, which if you don’t know it is pretty awesome. The Jimi Hendrix connection isn’t just the name: he actually founded the place shortly before he died. I promise this isn’t a chapter about musicians dying from drugs so don’t read anything into the Hendrix reference. No, this is a chapter about the creative process.

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ceciliatan: (darons guitar)
( Jan. 29th, 2015 10:00 am)

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

We didn’t go out clubbing every night I was in New York. No, sometimes we stayed in the studio all night instead.

Somehow Jordan always had the energy to be awake before me the next day. Sometimes he had to go to meetings. At one point he was gone for almost a day and a half, rescuing someone’s album or song. I didn’t know whose and even if I did I probably wouldn’t be allowed to tell you. Not that you guys don’t already know how the sausages are made, but yeah.

It was in the second week that I started talking about Ziggy.

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

So living at Jordan’s turned out to be like living at Grand Central Station. There was always someone interesting coming or going. Musicians, songwriters, deejays, New York art scene peopleā€”it wasn’t always clear who was connected to him for actual work and who was just there to hang around. Then again, I suppose making connections is part of the work when you’re in the business. The old cliche is “it’s not what you know, it’s who you know.” I’d say it’s more like both: you have to know your what, but you have to know the who, too.

Jordan was a connector. He was a match-maker. A people-person.

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

Jordan chased me out of the kitchen area when my hand shook holding the kitchen knife while I was trying to help him make dinner.

He put me on a barstool on the far side of the peninsula of countertop that delineated where kitchen ended and living room began. He was wearing goggles over his eyes at the time so he could chop onions and with his very short cropped hair it gave him a very insectoid look. He handed me a cup of herbal tea. “Talking with Ziggy upset you that much?”

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

My suspicions that New Year’s Eve could turn into a drug-fest were borne out in spectacular fashion, by which I mean absolutely everyone I knew there except Christian, who appointed himself our babysitter, and Tony, who was already Ziggy’s designated watchdog, ended up on ecstasy or acid or both. Jordan, Sarah, Courtney, Carynne, Ziggy, everyone. Martin, even Martin was there. It’s hard to remember everyone, honestly.

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

When you come from the New York area, you grow up learning a certain disdain of tourists. So it was distinctly weird to be staying in a hotel in the city for an honest-to-god vacation. It really hadn’t sunk in for me that we’d be playing tourist in what was, really, kind of our hometown. Well, mine anyway. But there we were, like something from a Christmas movie, waltzing in and out of a lavishly decorated lobby on our way to and from leisure activities like seeing the tree and the windows at Macy’s.

The tree. You all know about “the tree”?

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

So, hit me over the head with a brick about it.

Somehow, despite ample evidence to the contrary, I was used to thinking of myself as the only gay person I knew. I in fact knew a ton of people–Ziggy, Colin, my own sister, Jonathan, Matthew, Sarah, maybe even Mills if she was right about him–but in my head queer people were still really few and far between.

I tried to work out the math. If you believe the one-in-ten estimate, well, that would mean ten percent, right? Pretty rare. And yet clearly way more then ten percent of the people I knew were not straight.

Well, I thought, maybe one-in-ten doesn’t take into account that the entertainment industry probably has a higher concentration of gay folks. And it also probably doesn’t count bisexual people properly in the first place.

Right? Did that mean my impression was less stupid? Probably not.

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