Stories from the road

  I always like to remind people that when you go to a rock show, whether it’s in a club in LA, New York’s Madison Square Garden, Wembley Stadium in London, or the Tokyo Dome, that show did not just end up there by chance. It didn’t land there from outer space while you were paying for your Starbucks and swiping right. It took hard work and a fucking lot of it. 

 For years I took my past for granted. I took it for granted because maybe I was arrogant, entitled, conceded or just maybe most of all oblivious to the beauty of each and every blessed day.

Only after facing age was stealing my dreams, I finally realized that being able to see the fortunes of my past is a privilege and a value that I’ve now And, the older I get the more the need has become.

  There was an unstoppable energy that fed on itself and continually propelled us forward. Every week was more and bigger. More records sold and more sold out shows. Longer trucks with more equipment for bigger stages. Never-ending months in the studio. Extra buses and nicer planes. More, bigger, longer, and louder was our normal.