Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.
“Your new manager is pretty great, you know that?” Courtney said to Ziggy. “The man first of all is a walking Rolodex, and second of all, not an apparent slimewad.”
“I’ve liked him so far,” Ziggy said with a small shrug.
( Read the rest of this entry » )Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.
(Wrapping up the Amazon reviews campaign: if we can get just THREE more reviews for Volume 3
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I’m a little unclear on why Digger wasn’t in jail or something already. I guess he’d somehow talked a ranking police officer on site into not dragging him away, I suppose because he had promised he wouldn’t be any trouble if he could just do one thing and one thing only.
“Just let me talk to my son” was apparently that thing. The cop whom Courtney led over put it to me like I’d be doing them–and all of us–a favor, if I’d go find out what he wanted.
“Fine. Lead the way,” I said.
( Read the rest of this entry » )Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.
Soundcheck went all right. Everyone seemed mellow, and pacing themselves for three days in a row. We didn’t need to overdo it and after six weeks on the road it wasn’t like anyone needed to learn anything new.
After we were done and the other bands were doing their checks, it felt to me like a whirlwind of short conversations took place. I guess because they did. No sooner would I have talked to one person when another one would grab me for a couple of seconds. Martin pulled me into a debate with someone about the superiority of New York pizza; George had a technical question about the placement of one of my effects boxes to ask me about; Louis wanted to ask about Boston.
“Did you say you had a spare room I could crash in for a couple of days?” he asked.
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