Monday, February 28, 2011


  The name Twisted Sister still evokes vivid images of Dee Snider testifying in a black tank top at the U.S. Senate's 1985 McCarthy-esque PRMC hearings, the video for heavy metal's universal political theme song 'Were Not Gonna Take It', and legions of concerned parents misguided effort to protect us youngsters from the dangers of hair metal open-mindedness. Snider has always held the highest visibility with his stage presence and showstopping charisma, but the business touchstone holding this notorious band together the past forty years, is guitarist and original member, John 'Jay Jay' French. It's French's business savvy, negotiation skills, and a uncommon bluntness, that have ensured continued behind the scenes success for a group who's Gotham creativity spawned songs like 'Burn In Hell' and 'Love is for Suckers'.
  Surprisingly humble, yet unmistakably confident, French exudes a well-deserved pride when discussing the band's history, particularly 2010, where they are coming off their most successfully year as a touring group. But underneath the makeup, French has embraced new challenges. He's worked extensively with the band Sevendust, guiding their early career and producing their first four albums. But his most personal project may be spearheading a foundation to bring attention the debilitating ocular disease Uveitis. The Blog was fortunate to catch up with Jay Jay French in New York to discuss the past, present, and future fortunes of rock icons Twisted Sister.

  There is, perhaps, nothing less exciting that doing interviews.

  Well you know these are necessary evils in this business.

  Dee Snider, in an interview, once described Twisted Sister as Slade meets the Sex pistols. In another interview, you described the band as a New Jersey version of the New York Dolls. How would you describe the evolution of the band's sound ?

  It started as a New Jersey version of the New York Dolls, but it didn't sound like that. I think the Dolls were an original band making original music, Twisted Sister were not. It was a cover band. Now the songs we covered were musically sophisticated. The Dolls were not sophisticated, they were punk, and pretty bad actually. Twisted was a bar band that dressed like that and we were playing the new music at the time. David Bowie, Lou Reed, Mott The Hoople, that kind of stuff. Later on, as an original act, we became much more of what Dee described. So that's the evolution. As time went on, we assimilated AC/DC and Judas Priest  and became a much more mainstream eighties metal band. So, I would say our direct lineage these days is a bit of Slade and Alice Cooper, and a lot of AC/DC and Judas Priest.

  Was there a specific moment where, personally, you realized 'Hey, this band is actually going to achieve some level of national recognition' ?

  I wish I could tell you there was a moment, where time froze and stood still. But, the reality of it is that, in every band, and every person who's has ever been in band would probably say what I'm about to say: You struggle on a daily basis, for success, for validation from someone, your peers, your lover, your family. Whatever gets you through that day, whatever occurrence happens in a day that gives you justification and validation for your dream, you use that to keep going when all else fails. So when the demos were being turned down, when we were being rejected all over the place, and clubs didn't want us. Wherever the rejection levels come in, there's your validation. So there were certain instances along the way, where validation points occurred, that said 'keep going, keep going'. But there were very dark times. And those dark times exposed the weaknesses in the band, and those dark times dictated changes. Which is why if you go to the website and you read the history of the band, the group that started it, and the group that finished it were all different, except for me. Because the people could not adapt to the changes. Its a tough, tough, businesses. And how you respond to rejection is the key.

Up until recently, the band's popularity seemed to peak in 1985.

 We're more popular now than we've ever been worldwide. While we experienced a bump in popular in 1984 and 1985, because of 'Were Not Gonna Take it' and I wanna' Rock', here we are in 2011. Our last year, we had our most successful tour ever. I think were good, that's all I can say. The band is arguably the best live band in the world. I would put us up against anybody. AC/DC, U2, whoever. It wouldn't matter, we can take anybody. And we do this every year, were always on these festivals and we always get the best reviews at these shows. I could say it and sound like a jerk for saying it. Or I can read you the quotes from the articles, magazine, and websites saying when we play these festival and you can see for yourself. We wound up playing a festival in Holland a couple of years ago, with Whitesnake, Journey, KISS, Def Leppard, and Motorhead. We had to go on at 3 in the afternoon. Well, Dee's flight was late so they dropped us off in a helicopter behind the stage, and we came right out from behind the stage and played. Here you got all these amazing bands, and the only band who's picture appeared in the straight press the next day was ours. They said you've got all these amazing bands, but Twisted Sister was the best one. And it helped us last year. We played at the biggest festival in France last year and the reviews were exactly the same, so we obviously do what we do well. And I have a great pride in it. And the day that we can no longer do it at that level is the day we hang it up.

  What was the experience like being a glam band signed to a punk label ?

  We never looked at ourselves as a glam band anyway. We looked the way we did as more or less of a political statement. We weren't Poison, we weren't Motley Crue. We started out as glam band, but evolved into a performance artist band like Alice Cooper. These 'pure' glam bands were a little different. It didn't surprise me that we were signed to a label like Secret Records, because if you listen to the music purely in it's aggressive form, it was of a similar type. There was an aspect of that in the early stages of the bands original music. We played thrash we played very very quick fast stuff.

  What circumstances led you into management ?

  Well, early on in the band I noticed the manager was incompetent, and I could do a better job. My sense of business was better, my negotiation skills were better, my understanding and take on how to approach people is better, so it evolved from that. You either know it or you don't. You have an instinct, or you don't. So I'm from New York, I'm pretty much a social guy and it made sense.

  Is the production work you've done with Sevendust as satisfying as performing ?

  Performing trumps it all. I am not a fan of the studio. I am a fan of doing deals. I liked working with Sevendust and developing them, a great deal. That was a great thing to watch that succeed. I loved it. But I think the performance on stage speaks for itself. And that's where my reputation really stands out.

  Given that you're a New York City guy, was it ever difficult for you to get up on stage wearing make up ?

  Never. I was told from day one, this is the way to get girls. So the first time we did it, I thought 'that's kind of crazy' but after a couple of weeks . .  It was sold to me by the drummer of the band that contacted me, Silverstar, which became Twisted Sister. He told me 'Man, the girls love it'. I was twenty years old and a Grateful Dead freak. But, I retired from the Grateful Dead world, thankfully. I stopped doing drugs and realized they weren't as good as I thought they were. I'd spent four years following the Dead everywhere and saw them 26 times. I saw them 'open' for bands, that's how far I go back with the Grateful Dead. I mean can you imagine the Dead opening for people? I watched them open for Janis Joplin and Country Joe and the Fish. When they opened, the played thirty minutes. So they tuned up, played one song, that's what they set was, and went home. They were great for awhile, then I just evolved and moved on. I fell in love with Bowie and Lou Reed and I wanted to do that. So it was a perfect mating of my hormones and my urge to become a rock star in the time. Perfectly matched.

  By comparison, your onstage appearance was fairly tame. But, was there every a point where you wanted to approach Dee and say 'Hey, your wardrobe is getting a little out of control?'

  I have no idea what you mean by that ? If I look back at the band's evolution, we were ALL wearing the same type of clothing. I don't perceive it that way. You may, but I don't look at it and go 'Huh, that's crazier than anything else!' I would disagree.

  Is it frustrating having this great wealth of material ? Do you ever wish fans would get excited over lesser known, but quality tracks such as 'The Price'?

  We just finished playing South America. If you watch the video posted on our website, there's this little snippet, the fans knew every song, sang every word, they even sang the guitar solos. They were obsessed and crazy. I love playing 'Were not Gonna take it'. I think people who bitch about playing songs that are (their) hits, are assholes. And anyone who doesn't appreciate that's where their strength comes from, are assholes. And, anyone who doesn't play those songs for their fans, are assholes.
There's a quote from Ray Davies from years and years ago, when a reporter asked him “Are you sick of playing 'You really got me'?”. He said 'Let me tell you something: here's my choices: play you really got me or flip hamburgers. I'll take playing you really got me, anytime'. I'll play 'Under The Blade', I'll play 'You can't stop rock and roll', I'll play 'I wanna rock' everyday. It makes people happy. I think if you take your fans for granted, you're an asshole. It's as simple as that. I don't respect bands that don't understand that. The fans don't want you to get cute, they don't want you to reinvent it. They don't want you to fuck around. They want you to play the damn song, just the way it is. That's what they want. That's what they are paying for. So you're either a performer or you're not. You're a performer or an asshole. I prefer to be a performer.

  Given the relationship between band members, do you feel that Twisted Sister would've reformed at some point, even without the World Trade Center attack benefit concert ?

  Probably not. I mean, probably not. Three weeks prior to that, the VH1 Behind The Music special came out, and it was so negatively cut and it was so damaging to the band on a personal level, I thought any dream I had would've gone down the tubes at that moment. So, no, I don't think the band would've performed together again.

  What does the future hold for you in terms of more production work ?

  No idea. If someone wants me to produce a record and I love the music, I'll be involved, but I don't actively seek anything. If you seek me out, and I love it, then maybe. But I don't actively seek it. I'm into These days, the Pinkburst Project is really my life.

  Can you tell us a little bit about the Pinkburst Project and why you're passionate about it ?

  It's at I'm doing a benefit to raise money for the their foundation that does research into Uveties, which my daughter has. Uveitis is the leading cause of blindness among American girls. It's a frustrating disease to deal with, there's no cure, only treatment. That's my focus, to raise awareness and money for a cure. And help save people's sight. Once you get involved with a project like that, everything else seems to pale in comparison. There's an auction taking place on May 1st in which these guitars and amplifiers I designed, one of a kind guitars and amps will be auctioned off and the proceeds go to the foundation. All of it's on the website and Twisted Sisters is doing a show in New York City on April 29th where the proceeds from that show will go to the foundation. Only about ten thousand people are you get this disease where as ten million suffer from heart disease. The bottom line is that if you can educate young families to get their kids checked, you may save your kids sight. There's one less person who's quality of life wont be destroyed. One less family who won't go bankrupt due to the health care system. One less person who won't go on the rolls of the Federal government supporting them because they are of limited productivity to society. I want to preserve the quality of life for these kids.
for the DRB

Wednesday, February 23, 2011


Dearest Liz,

  Ours was always an open relationship. At the time we first met, you were passionately involved with Matador Records. However it had been a few years since I'd heard you're voice, either on the radio, CD player, or in the Itunes library on the laptop. So you can understand why I was somewhat shocked to find a copy of your new album 'Funstyle' waiting in my mailbox like a undiscovered Egyptian relic. Thank you, by the way, for the courtesy.
Some blogger knob posted some of the new promotional pics. You're looking good for 44 (I, on the other hand, am totally bald). I took a couple of days and gave your new record an unbiased, honest listen, in spite of our inglorious past. Before I convey my thoughts on 'Funstyle', there's some two decade old, pent up emotion I feel obligated to get off my chest.
  On that night where we first met, back in Fall of 1994, we made a solemn vow. You swore to always inspire me, and I vowed to always support your career. It might be difficult to believe, especially after the curious twists and turns of your career, but I swear I kept my word for as long as humanly possible.
  I still smile when reminiscing of those early days in Harrison Hall over on Western's West Campus. Our world was young, vibrant, and we were both passionate about life. You were easily one of the most influential artists I'd ever heard, flawed and personable, channeling a pre-Alanis quiet annoyance. 'Exile In Guyville', was instantly timeless, so brilliant in fact, I couldn't help but fall in love with you as an artist. I'd openly gush about you, like a cliche music nerd, to anyone willing to listen I'd play tracks like 'Never Said' for other kids around the dorm, or include it on mix CDs with Morrissey and Siouxie, for girls I wanted to sleep with. Some kids would get it instantly, but most would only shake their heads and ask the meaning of your infamous 'because I'm a little cunt in spring' lyric. Yet it always felt like membership in a secret organization staffed solely by those who could recognize and accept the hipster cool of Liz Phair's girly rock.
  I distinctly remember listening to your follow up, suggestively titled 'Whip-Smart', with an enormous sense of alt-rock pride. Great reviews poured in, again, from Rolling Stone, The Reader, etc. 'Chopsticks' was such a cute little track to start things off, and then . . 'Supernova'. My heart sank while standing in line at the University bookstore, as I heard it for the first time, playing over the local radio station airwaves. It was my first inkling of how this familiar fairytale was going to climax. I wanted to believe with all my heart, this time, the story would have a happy end where love conquered all. But, deep down, I knew you preferred fame to critical acclaim. It's only in retrospect, I can admit to blindly ignoring our friend's advice when they tried to warn me.
  But you put on the happy face and pretended for as long as you could. Your third album, with it's can't-miss title 'Whitechocolatespaceegg', wasn't quite the masterpiece you'd hoped for, and all of us, your biggest fans, could sense your growing disillusionment with the autonomy of being 'indie rock'. Even though 'Polyester Bride' received modest airplay, the track 'Shitloads of Money' said what we we're all thinking. As a whole, the album was stale and uninspired, and it was obvious, you were unhappy.
  In the end, as fan and artist, we simply grew apart.
  Eventually, I graduated, and moved to your hometown, Chicago. You moved to Nashville to begin recording what should have been your next masterpiece. I'll never forget where I was, when I caught you in the act. It was in Tower Records off Clark Street, while searching through the bins for a copy of the Smashing Pumpkins 'Gish', when I heard your voice. I looked up and noticed you playing guitar all across a row of television monitors. For the briefest moment, the simple sound of your voice transported me back in time, to carefree, happier days. But the abysmal lyrics “We're already wet, and we're gonna' go swimming” brought me right back to the Autotune Hell of 2003. It was as if a zombified version of the Liz I loved, escaped from a parallel comic book universe and attempted to assume your identity. The pap single, 'Why Can't I?', had more in common with a rabid monk slaughtering a 78' Camaro with a dull butter knife, than actual music. And that's how I found out the hard way, you were sleeping with Capitol Records.
  Maybe you felt like you had something to prove. Or maybe you were trying to get back at me for not properly appreciating the 'genius' of a title like 'Whitechocolatespaceegg'. Either way, I can't remember ever being more disappointed in a musician of your caliber. The merit of all your hard work, the critical achievement, destroyed in three minutes and twenty-eight seconds. You were always a bit risque with the lyrics, but just enough to keep it edgy, never too far over the top. However, the tart on the cover of 'Liz Phair' is just another housewife trying to prove she can still pull off the wayward catholic schoolgirl look. I felt like a musical pervert just for buying it, but a promise is a promise.
  That was the day you truly broke my heart.
  Prior to that day, I'd staunchly defended you.  Even after you explained to the indie press that 'growth' as an artist is a natural and necessary evolution. Now at parties where your name came up in conversation, it resulted in nothing but laughter and eye rolling. The low point arrived in the form of Pitchfork media assigning the album a 0.0 rating. I talked to some of our old friends over dinner at Renalli's pizza one night, and they gently explained how you were tired of being recognized and not compensated. You were exhausted from the endless touring, of consistently playing smaller venues, and most of all, your efforts not being appreciated on a larger scale. Being a popular indie starlet, when mediocre artists with far less talent, like Jessica Simpleton were raking in the cash, was a bitter pill.
That was when I finally realized, it was time to let go.
  So I made the conscious decision to completely ignore your artistic output. I needed space, to absorb your horrifying career choices. I suppose you must have been happy at the time, what with the money, the attention. 'Why Can't I' made it to number 32 on Billboard. But from the outside looking in, the entire charade felt forced. Recently, I heard you've finally admitted those years with Capitol were rougher waters to navigate than expected.
  So when 'Somebody's Miracle' was released in 2005, it barely registered on my radar. A friend who worked at left a copy on my desk at the 55 W. Wacker office. I recall listening to it and predicting an extraordinarily difficult time lay ahead for you. Capitol gave the impression you weren't what they had bargained for, at all, and the album lacked spark and promotion. Upon discovering my copy of 'Somebody's Miracle' on the kitchen table, a drunk roommate removed the inlay and wrote 'Smell My Toot!' on the cover, before replacing it in my the CD cabinet. I didn't notice for two years.
  Eventually you became a ghost in conversations with our old friends. About once a year, they would ask 'Hey, whatever happened to _____' and I'd just shrug and return my attention to whatever P.J. Harvey had released. You became less to me, than three dusty CDs taking up residence on a bookshelf out of reach.
Still, it's only fair to include that night in 2002 where I was drunk on Late Harvest Riesling. The massive flirting that resulted from your background vocals on Sheryl Crow's 'Soak Up The Sun', which gave way to the full blown one night stand of your theme music to the CBS seventies sex drama 'Swingtown'.
And then, the show was promptly canceled
More time passed, the way the years seem to drift as we realize were approaching 40. Honestly, I hadn't thought about you in eons, despite the occasional email: “Liz leaves Capitol Records', 'Liz signs with ATO label', 'Liz raps'.”
The same friend emailed me the article about how you asked ATO to 'release you'. I thought about writing a letter or sending an email, but to say what ? Good luck ? I'm sorry ?
  So that brings me to today and why I wrote you. I'm not surprised at your last ditch effort to reach out to all of us, old fans, true fans, there from the beginning. But, this latest effort to win back my affection, 'Funstyle' ? Liz, this desperate attempt to regain credibility is so fucking horrible it makes your self-titled album Grammy eligible. For the love of God, Liz, you're actually rapping on one of the tracks!! I'm telling you this as your friend: it's depressing to watch you humiliate yourself, trying to recapture your indie past. There's just too much water under this bridge.
 You're probably asking yourself 'How do you know for sure, asshole!?! Well, because, I was one of your earliest, biggest supporters when no one knew your name. And, never, ever, would I have paid one dime for 'Funstyle'. Hell, I would never have listened to it, if you hadn't mailed me a copy (thanks again!). Not even with the miracle of digital piracy . Not even if I found it in the bargain bin of a Salvation Army resale shop for a penny.

  You cashed the check. It's over. It has been since 2003, and you should accept it.

  And you should also know, I was cheating on you with Courtney Love back at Western. There was just something pleasingly dark and satisfying about the 'Live Through This' record. I really don't care if Kurt Cobain did write all the songs!

  But, Liz, try not to be too sad. Let's end this musical relationship on a positive note. We had our time, and it was glorious. It's a select few indie artists who have graced the cover of Rolling Stone, and no matter what kind of unforgivable musical sins were committed, you remain a member of that exclusive club. One of the intrinsic theme's in your early music is that life is a bittersweet journey. I honestly hope one day you find the artistic peace that continues to elude you.

We'll always have 'Exile' . . even though I still can't stand to listen to it.

The Blog.

*For you idiots who don't understand satire, this letter is complete fiction. In other words, The Blog has never met Liz Phair. However, on her new album, 'Funstyle', Liz does rap, and it is unlistenable!*

Tuesday, February 15, 2011


  I have a well-publicized and notorious aversion to covers and, in particular, cover albums. Blame Joan Jett who poisoned me forever when in 1990 she released a musical felony commonly referred to as 'The Hit List'. Let me clarify, why, I not only give 'Ultraglide in Black' a pass on the album of covers tag, but how this Detroit classic manages to succeed on three separate levels.
First, the retro cover, paying homage to Stevie Wonder's 1967 cover for 'I Was Made To Love Her'. The art is spot on and evokes an appreciative nostalgia for the influence and magic Motown weaved through, not only Michigan, but the country.  Second, the brazen audacity for garage rock revivalists to jump into the Rn B/soul swimming pool. This type of outing can't be described as original, but damn if it isn't 90% of the way to clever. Distant cousins rock and soul, are thrown together in a fruit and vegetable salad that, for most of 'Ultraglide', is as tasty as the chicken shawarma at Bucharest Grill. Third, the songs are actually re-crafted in a spirit that is at the, same time, respectfully faithful to the vision of the original artists AND breathes a modern revolutionary air into tracks like Stevie Wonder's 'Living For The City'. If you're one of the many who have suffered through Detroit's reversal of fortune, this garage-version of 'City' will strike a particularly sensitive chord. It's difficult to imagine the track being grittier and dirtier than it was in 1973 when Wonder released his landmark Innervisions LP. Yet, somehow, Mick Collins and his revolving group of eclectic artists found a way to infuse a deft touch of Motor City sorrow.
  In May of 2001, our country was still living in pre-911 attacks naivety. Sure, the economy was sputtering, but nationally we still felt invincible. Thanks to the White Stripes, the nation's musical elite had focused their attention on a full-blown garage rock revival that had simmered underground in Detroit for more than a decade via bands like the The Von Bondies and The Detroit Cobras. It may have been premature to say this in 2001, but this is an album surprisingly reflective of that time. There's an unmistakable 'anything is possible' energy and 'can-do' enthusiasm on every track articulating how the idea of a garage rock band doing soul covers seemed plausible to Mick Collins. Start with 'I'm Qualified to Satisfy You', the track that best fulfills the original concept for this album. This take on 'Qualified' starts at a ten, dances all around the Fillmore stage like Barry White (R.I.P.) after three Red Bulls, and, by the chorus, finds a way to turn the volume one step higher. The one original on this collection is the stellar 'You're Love Belongs Under A Rock', which fits the album perfectly. It provides a vivid sonic image of what Jimi Hendrix could have achieved had he decided to record an album backed by the MC5. Smokey Robinson's 'If You Can Want' continues the spark, and you'll be tapping your feet while churning out those quarterly expense reports.
  And when you're standing in line at Kroger waiting to pay for that gallon milk, that song you're humming ? Yeah, that's Sly and The Family Stone's 'Underdog', translated for the fuzz guitar era. With it's 'unnndeeerrrrdooooooggg' chorus, that will annoyingly stick in your brain for weeks.
The only track where the flame simmers to a slow burn is George Clinton's wistful 'I'll Wait'. Here The Dirtbombs do the funk master proud with an album highlight marked by sincere angst in the vocals.
  Looking back, I still would've preferred The Dirtbombs write more of their own soul or Rn B songs instead of taking the easy route and covering established records. But, given how high their interpretation of songs like 'Chains of Love' or 'Kung-Fu' soar, it's moderately ridiculous to criticize that choice in hindsight. 'Ultraglide In Black' was a unique, calculated risk that opened the ears of listeners to the DIY spirit that continues to carry Detroit through harrowing uncertainty.

 And the risk still pays off.


Saturday, February 5, 2011


  Back in the cultural wasteland of 1988, David Black was somekind of musical superhero. Not in the Green Lantern sense, but in the sense of guitar empowerment. Together with Chuck Burns, David AndewBlack was (is) the acclaimed guitarist in some band called Seduce. In 1988, Seduce had a record deal with I.R.S. (REM's first label!), a pretty good album titled 'Too Much, Ain't Enough', and a catchy song 'Crash Landing'. Seduce showed up on the big screen in Penelopee Spheeris documentary The Decline of Western Civilization, Pt 2: The Metal Years'. Seduce had an established reputation for being a killer live act. But more importantly, and consistently overlooked outside of the Motor City, is this interesting little nugget:
Seduce were from Detroit.

  At the time, metal bands of note, whether they be pop, hair, or thrash, ala' Motley Crue, Posion, Metallica, were all coming off the sunset strip or at least claimed California as home. Sure you had the occasional 'Europe', but anyone and everyone who was getting their faces on MTV cut their teeth in L.A or close by. Seduce, proved that you could get out, you could get attention in the Midwest, even in the snowbound heart of Detroit City. Our older sisters may have been absolutely smitten with Black's rock star looks, but my brother and I were smitten with Black's guitar work. Revisit 'Empty Arms' or 'The Mirror' and try to argue that Black isn't superior to many of his eighties era peers. These days Black is manning the guitar duties in another Detroit original, CRUD. But occiasionally he returns to the familiar. Such as Seduce's recent show at the Token Lounge in December.
  The DRB caught up with Dave Black in Warren, Michigan, where he commented on his three decade career in Detroit rock music.

DRB: Describe the feeling of playing onstage with CRUD.

DB: It's awesome.CRUD is a lot different than anything else I ever got to do. The more I play, the more I enjoy it and the better I get at it. The longer I do it, the more I enjoy it.

DRB: You have more experience than some of the musicians you're currently involved with. How does that affect the creative process with CRUD ?

DB: Everybody contributes to a single idea and that idea is the song. So, whatever anyone member's part is to play with the song, we're all working towards one idea. With CRUD it's really abstract, so the common goal is really open. You can do anything you want within a certain framework. It's an interesting way to work and it's different. Compared to rock and roll bands, traditional bands that I've been in before it's a new take on it, well, for me anyway.

DRB: Are you the greatest guitar player to come out of Detroit ?

DB: *loud laugher* NO! It's not true at all. There's several great guitar players in Detroit

DRB: Where do you rank yourself ?

DB: I don't know. Someone in there.

DRB: When people say 'all those years ago'. .

DB: It seems like a hundred !

DRB: Describe the sense of pride you feel regarding your longetivty with Seduce.

DB: For me, it was such a together thing. Seduce is like an old corvette stashed in a garage. Every once in a while you'll pull the cover off it, fire that fucker up, and take it for a ride. You blow the leaves off the street and scare everybody. Its something special, you just take it out once in a while on a nice day.

DRB: Seduce is well known for their appearance in the documentary 'The Decline of Western Civilization, part two, The Metal Years, where Seduce was featured performing both 'Colleen' and 'Crash Landing'. Were you disappointed that national exposure didn't translate into higher profile success ?

DB: Yeah. I really was. But, that's the way it is. It is what it is. So you just do what you do. Playing guitar to me is the main thing. I cared and loved playing guitar before I ever got involved with bands. It's just something I love to do. So all those things were just (experiences) that happened in the process. Growing as a musician until I reach my peak and wind up in a wedding band.

DRB: Do you ever get tired of playing 'Crash Landing' ?

DB: No, it's a hard song to play. The longer I play it, someday I'll be able to play it good!

for the DRB