I am a vinyl addict. The gateway drug was radio. When it was riding the crest of the wave before TV came along and kicked it to the curb that wasn’t there. Before TV which a lot of people thought would be the death of radio, a format already writhing in pain. You could only get so big and radio was gargantuan— a seething mass of gelatinous goo— an 800 pound gorilla. By the time I came along, everyone had a radio.
The Corona School of Writing, Weinhard’s Private Reserve, record labels (major and independent) and just about everyone I have ever really known. So I sit here quaffing the ice cold Weinhard, waiting for that writing buzz and wondering where I will go with this because I have no real idea where I am going, only where I have been. I have been lucky, lucky like I cannot believe, but not lucky of my own making. I have been surrounded by good people— no, people more than good— and it is time I pay tribute to those and those things which have made me who I am.
Bullseye Records of Canada
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 