It’s the second week of the Bush and Nickelback tour and I've made it back to my hometown of NYC. While a lot of people move to New York for a little while and claim to be New Yorkers, those of us who were born in Manhattan or one of the boroughs might beg to differ. My father is from Howard Beach, my mother is from Ozone Park, and I was born in Rosedale: the trifecta of Queens.
When we lose a favorite artist, there's an amazing feeling of loss that takes place -- like losing a family member or friend. That's because the artist seems to know your deepest feelings, seems to share with you their own inner-life. I think for most of you, and for me, music and musicians seem to resonate the most and will always resonate our core in the deepest, most intimate way.
When Crazy Damian Fanelli from Guitar World breezed into my store, Chelsea Guitars in NYC, with his posse of ne'er-do-wells, it was obvious they were up to no good. Matt, my manager, reached down and, grabbing the stun gun, unobtrusively pressed it into my right hand. Dylan, my floor guy, who we will discuss at length later, got up, grabbed the nightstick and, working his way around the Guitar World bastards, reached down and locked the front door.