Jerry Raney: "The guy from Iron Butterfly, Darryl DeLoach, for instance — he had this Hollywood guy who wanted to be our manager."
“Somewhere along in there, Herrera became partners with Jim Pagni, who brought in a lot of concerts in those days, and the Palace changed its name to JJ’s. Glory ended up being the house band at JJ’s for a while, and we opened for a lot of people. We opened for Steely Dan on probably the only tour they ever had. We opened for ZZ Top when Tres Hombres first came out.”
By Roger Anderson, March 16, 1989 | Read full article
Raul Musso: "Now the kids are pushing towards norteño music. They request songs by Ramon Ayala, Los Tigres del Norte, Los Invasores de Nuevo León."
Unlike Los Tucanes de Tijuana, who have never performed in the U.S. because two members lack passports, Los Regionales de San Diego work both sides of the border. They only play in Tijuana, however, when opening shows for Los Tigres and Los Bravos. There’s too much red tape in crossing the border, Jorge says. Perhaps he fears that on his return trip, U.S. customs will tear apart his cherished Hohner No. 2 accordion in search of contraband.
By Lee Hildebrand, June 1, 1989 | Read full article
Norm Leggio: "So many other bands that were the big thing — like Victim and Bible Black — all those guys have stopped playing."
“The whole thing is — if we get signed, and we make albums, and we do really well — after we’re gone, we’re still on this earth. John Lennon’s still here. That’s what I want. It’s more than becoming just an average person. After you’re gone, that’s history. But if you’re signed, and you influence an era, and you made a lot of people feel good, and they came to see you — that’s special.
By Mani Mir, Aug. 3, 1989 | Read full article
Security trying to manage the crowd at Altamont Speedway. “I can’t do any more than ask you to keep it together.” Mick again, sounding the conciliatory note. “If we’re all one, let’s show we’re all one!”
We shifted, the patrolman sped away, Lester [Bangs] put the car in gear, and we continued down the Grapevine veering wildly from one lane to the next. At the first exit Lester pulled over and got out. “One of you guys better take over, I don’t think I’m up for this,” he said blearily. He got into the back seat and took a pull from the bottle as Jim powered us back onto the freeway. “Say, where’s that joint?”
By Roger Anderson, Dec. 14, 1989 | Read full article
Dan Rock: "Lackey didn’t like how the band came off in the first interview and wasn’t interested in talking to you."
Norm Leggio: “I’m not really down for doing this. When the Reader did that story, it actually was yellow journalism. The guy, Mani [Mir], that interviewed us was asking legitimate questions. But when the story came out, it was just all the stuff where we were goofing around. It kind of made us look bad, and I think it actually hindered the band. So I don’t think I want to do another interview."
By Josh Board, May 27, 2004 | Read full article
With manager John Speer, who was the original drummer for Alice Cooper, the Beans moved to San Francisco in 1970.
When the Tubes appeared on the Cher TV special in April of the next year, I was almost overcome by a fit of the whips and jingles as I waited for the time to go by. It was an agony of suspense, for fear the boys’ segment would wind up on the cutting-room floor. When they came on at last. I could see everybody just fine — except Vince. He stayed hidden behind the keyboards.
By Jackie Dewey, March 6, 1980 | Read full article
KGB thinks it’s found a programming alchemist in Lander, who was hired from two Florida stations.
When the time came to give away an album, I jumbled immediately, “Okay, we’re going to go to give away an album,” and from there on bungled the whole business, giving the North County number for San Diego callers and the San Diego number for North County callers, correcting myself, pausing, giving the numbers again, and rolling my eyes gratefully as Barry, the all-night jock, took over and eased me off the air.
By Bob Dorn, April 10, 1980 | Read full article
So much, then, for the outlaw fringe.
Where Watt blundered tactically was in allowing himself to be suckered by the same mirage of counterculture community with which rock artists and audiences have been suckering themselves since Woodstock, not to mention Monterey, not to mention the Beatles or Elvis Presley. He assumed — to paraphrase a lesson in perception he picked up from the guy who’s been hanging around Nancy’s house all these years — that if you’ve seen one rock band, you’ve seen them all.
By Steve Erickson, June 9, 1983 | Read full article
Valley Center Inn Saloon. Two years ago Indians weren’t allowed in the place because they always got drunk and fought with each other. Lester put an end to the Indian wars.
At the Barr-X Ranch House the only people dancing were the band members’ girlfriends, and they were dancing with each other. They played “Oh, Lonesome Me," not the best choice for a deserted saloon on a Saturday night. A woman sitting at the horseshoe-shaped bar explained to anyone listening that the reason she didn't look so good tonight was that she fell asleep last night with her make-up on, and her eyelids had stuck together.
By Steve Sorensen, March 1, 1984 | Read full article
“Most people that come in here at night drink from the long necks."
Now that excitement over the movie has died down, and several country nightclubs in San Diego have changed format (the Alamo in Clairemont and Magnolia Mulvaney's in Santee) or given up and closed down (the Mustang Club, across from the Sports Arena), rumor is, country has died. Not true, insist country DJs, club managers, and clubgoers. The movie, they say, exposed country music and the country way of life to a nationwide audience and broadened their appeal.
By Judith Moore, Mar. 14, 1985 | Read full article
Ozz: “Only a certain amount of moves you can do, twistin’ and turnin’, until after a while you beginnin’ to see the same thing."
“Rapping gives you a way out, Especially if you are good at it. It could kick you up from where you are, and put you on a different level, away from the street scene. Now little kids in the neighborhood, they come up to me, they say ‘Ron, teach me to rap.' Kids they used to wanna be a doctor, a lawyer, a basketball player, and now they say, ‘I wanna be a DJ, a rapper.’"
By Judith Moore, June 27, 1985 | Read full article