Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.
Here’s the thing about what happened during the show in Atlanta: everyone thought I was drunk off my ass.
I wasn’t. After what Clarice had said I didn’t dare sneak an extra drink in before the show, no matter how much I tried to justify to myself that I “needed” one.
I didn’t need one.
( Read the rest of this entry » )Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.
[TW: Racism.]
I’ve been here before. I had that thought repeatedly at Lakewood Amphitheater. The loading dock was familiar. The men’s room was familiar. A particular part of concrete hallway was familiar.
Over there was where Jonathan kissed me. And there was the spot where Courtney tore Dave a new one. But most of all I was haunted by the image of a bandaged, fragile Ziggy here, there, and everywhere. We’d almost cancelled this show, I remembered.
I remembered having to put antibiotic drops in my eye and being unable to take a proper shower because of the need to keep the bandages dry.
Jeezus, let’s hope we never have to go through something like that again.
( Read the rest of this entry » )Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.
The first show of the tour would be in Atlanta, at an arena officially named the Omni but referred to by the crew as the Waffle Iron because of the shape of the roof, which looked like a—you guessed it—waffle iron. We had several days off in LA before the actual show because the crew and rig had to travel across the entire country to get there.
I kind of wondered about this. Nomad was a band from the West Coast, and here they were starting a tour in the East. Moondog Three had been a band from the East Coast, and we had started our tour in the West. Was that bad planning? Or was it good because it meant you ended up closer to home in the end? I wasn’t sure. It probably had more to do with when the venues were available. Carynne once told me that to set up any given six weeks on the road she probably made about five hundred phone calls. That was about four-hundred-ninety-nine more than I would have been willing to make before I freaked out and bailed.
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