Pop Muzik

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

The bus dropped us off at the hotel around eight in the morning. None of us are at our best at that time of day, as you can imagine, but everything had been planned like a military operation, down to the slightest detail. Bunches of our equipment had been packed in the bus instead of the truck the night before, and now we swapped it all into a smaller van. Marty was off until tomorrow night, and he gave us a little wave as he took the bus off to wherever one parked that sort of thing. Probably at the venue, but I didn’t know. It wasn’t my job to know all the details. Carynne told the driver where to take us and then she supervised everything at the hotel.

The smaller van took the four of us first to a place to grab breakfast, which we did as quickly as possible, and then to the recording studio, which was outside the French Quarter but still didn’t seem very far. The driver warned us not to leave anything on the curb for more than four seconds. I assured him I was from New York City and neither guitar case was leaving my hands until I was inside.

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