Interview: Dale Bozzio


The band Missing Persons grew out of Frank Zappa’s stable of musicians after being part of his rock opera Joe’s Garage, fusing top-notch musicianship with New Wave sensibilities to give us songs like “Words”, “Destination Unknown”, and “Walking in L.A.” A quintessential ’80’s band, their music came paired with a revolutionary image courtesy of singer Dale Bozzio, whose crazy hairstyles, over-the-top make-up, and outrageous outfits have led many to call her the original Lady Gaga. The band – with founding members Terry Bozzio and drums and Warren Cuccurullo on guitar – released three albums before breaking up in 1986. In 1988, Dale released a solo album on Prince’s Paisley Park record label.

Dale is back in action, with a new Missing Persons album being released a couple years ago and a new line-up which revisits the band’s glorious catalog in concert. This interview was for a preview article for the 5/20/17 concert by Missing Persons at the California Strawberry Festival in Oxnard, California. It was done by phone on 4/26/17.

Jeff Moehlis: I grew up during the heyday of MTV, and of course you were a part of that. So I’m very happy to get a chance to talk to you.

Dale Bozzio: Well, I’m thrilled. I really appreciate it, and I’m very happy to talk to you. It’s been a long time [laughs], right? It’s definitely been a long time since MTV was the real MTV, as they say. Now everything is an advertisement for something else.

JM: Definitely. I saw you you perform at the the 80’s Weekend concert in Los Angeles a little less than a year ago. I think you played three songs, or so.

DB: Yeah, yeah. That was such a smidgenly little show. It’s hard to get excited about three songs.

JM: But it was a nice taster, and I really enjoyed it. Is it still fun for you to be out there playing shows?

DB: I’ll tell you – it has changed. The environment has changed. The effect is not the same. The 80’s were an inventive stage of life – creative and very curious. I feel that this era we’re in is squeezing the people. It’s squeezing music, it’s squeezing the arts. People are afraid to express themselves, for being judged. That is very dangerous when you can’t express yourself in the ultimate, and be who you choose to be. Not who someone else wants you to be. That’s a very big issue to me.

I’ve always been a rule-breaker, not a rule-maker – there’s a big difference – in life. And the music business has changed immensely. Now it’s pre-fabricated, especially to ring your ears. It is not a state of art, or an expression from within. That is where I am losing my grip with the people. I love to perform. It’s the only way that you can really see my true endeavors, and understand me personally as a human. People forget when you’re a rock star or an artist or a movie star, that we are deeper than that. So I respect that question.

JM: It’s awesome that the Missing Persons story began with Frank Zappa. How did you get that gig, and what was it like working with him?

DB: Meeting Frank was the pivot of my life and my career. Frank has made me an icon. Frank has made me into a singer, and a video star that I never thought I would be. His picture is right here – I look at him every day – and I visit his grave – it’s 3.1 miles from my house. I am indebted to Frank Zappa forever, forever and ever and ever and ever.

I met Frank [laughs]… It was 1972. Frank was doing a tour of 200 Motels. He was in Boston at the Music Hall, and I went to the Music Hall and they were sold out. My friend Norman was at the front, and he couldn’t sneak me in. He said, “Listen, if you want to see Frank, go climb up three flights of the fire escape. Climb in the window – you’ll be in the bathroom, and you’ll be backstage.” I said, “Oh, sure – great idea, Norman!” [laughs]

So I went over to the side of the building, and I climbed up the fire escape, climbed in the window, and I opened the door and there was Frank. I said, “Frank, I’m your biggest fan.” He said, “How did you get in here?” I said, “I climbed in the bathroom window, from the fire escape.” [laughs] He started laughing. He was backstage with his bodyguard, and he said, “Give her a backstage pass.” I said, “Oh, but Frank, I have two more girls climbing in the window. Can they get passes, too?” [laughs] Now that I’m in the music business and know what backstage passes are, it’s absolutely hysterical to see myself as this tiny little girl. I was sixteen and a half, and I was his biggest fan.

Then he said, “Stay right here, I’m playing my last song.” When he got off the stage he said, “You got a car?” I said, “Yeah. C’mon Frank!” I had my mother’s Delta 88 – it was an Oldsmobile, canary yellow with a black top. I had the top down – it was a convertible. Frank jumped in the front seat and I drove him out to this dinner place. He had dinner, and all these people, his musicians, were there. He had like a twenty-two piece band. It was insane.

He said, “C’mon, drive me back to the hotel, we’re having a party.” So I drive him back to the hotel in Cambridge, and I said, “Frank, I can’t come up to the party.” It was like quarter of midnight. I said, “I’ve gotta get home. This is my mother’s car. If this car isn’t home, she’s gonna kill me.” He started laughing again, and he said, “OK, then you’d better go home.” I said to him, “I don’t even have a driver’s license, Frank!” He said, “Oh yeah, you’d better go home.” [laughs] He took me by the shoulders and he kissed me on the forehead, and he said, “Goodbye.” I drove home, and I left my girlfriends there, and they went into the party, because they were eighteen. I left and I cried all the way home. I got the car home, and I was home on time for my mother. It was a major awakening in my life.

I waited, in my life, patiently, to meet Frank again. And I did, I did. In 1976 I went to Hugh Hefner’s house, and Hefner would not come down the stairs and talk to me. I had an appointment there. It was Valentine’s Day – February 14th, 1976. Well, to make a long story short, he wouldn’t come downstairs to talk to me. He kept waving me up to his bedroom or whatever, this balcony. I’m a girl from Boston [laughs], I’m pretty arrogant, and you can’t just wave me over at anything. I’m stubborn. So he never came downstairs, so I said, “Excuse me Mr. Hefner, but I’ve got a previous engagement. I’ve gotta go.” I was just in his magazine, for Playboy Bunnies of the year. I was Playboy Bunny for 1976 for Boston. His secretary gave me the magazine as I’m running out of the mansion.

I had a Firebird, a ’69 navy blue Firebird convertible, stickshift on the floor. I peel out of the mansion [laughs]. “And I’m outta here!” I drove down Sunset Boulevard looking for Studio Instrumental Rentals Lots, where I knew all the guitar players were. One friend of mine was going to be there. So I found the place, I get on the lot, I park the car, I’m starving, I’ve got no money, I just blew my job at Hefner’s house. I’m really freaking out. I walk on this lot and I hear Frank Zappa’s music. I walk over to where the door is where Frank is playing, and there’s a big sign on the door that says, “If you value your life, do not open this door.” [laughs] Well of course I opened the door. I opened the door, and there’s Frank. He’s standing there, and he goes, “What? What are you doing here?” He burst out laughing. There he was, laughing Frank again. I said, “Oh my God, Frank, you remember me?” And he said, “How could I forget you? Come in, come in!” I said, “Oh my God, Frank, I’m sorry I opened the door.” He goes, “It’s alright. Are you hungry?” I said, “I’m starving.” He said, “Alright, have an apple.” [laughs] And he said, “Let me introduce you to my band.” I’m looking at him going, “OK, sure. I’ll meet your band.” And he said, “This is Terry “Ted” Bozzio our drummer, and Eddie Jobson on keyboards, and Patrick O’Hearn on bass.”

Now, at this time in my life, thinking back to that day, those people… I married Terry, Patrick was in the band, Eddie became a great, great friend. Frank was my friend. For ten years I visited his house. I made him laugh. I did whatever I could to make Frank happy, because he made me into someone that I didn’t know I could be. And he made me so proud of myself, that every day I thank Frank. And that’s why I visit his grave. [With great emotion] I hold him high, the highest in my life. It’s very sad that he’s not here, but I’m very grateful that his music is always being cranked out, more than ever. He was very private, even though he played his concerts. I was so lucky that he let me into his world. It breaks my heart. It breaks my heart that I can’t talk to him anymore.

But that day he hired me to be Mary [laughs] for Joe’s Garage. That’s where it started, right there. That day that I saw him again in 1976, that’s when it started, and it went on from there. I married Terry. He was one of my greatest friends, Terry. He taught me a lot about what I know. He’s gone on to do many great things. He is the greatest drummer in the world, as far as I’m concerned. There’s nobody better than Terry Bozzio. It’s impossible to duplicate Terry’s talent. He’s a stubborn motherfucker [both laugh], but his talent is overwhelming enough to make you still love him. And I do. I love Terry, and I love Warren Cuccurullo. Whatever they do – they’ll try to imitate me. Warren’s probably going to put a band together and replace me [laughs], which makes me laugh.

It surprises me that at this point in our lives, being still alive and seeing so many rock stars die… They just drop off like flies around here. You know living in West L.A. I see a lot of tragedy and mismanaged lives, misspent careers, wasted talent, and it’s unfortunate, because there’s only room for one at the top, so we all have to try very hard to complete our own trail, and not follow in other people’s footsteps. That’s what Frank taught me, to be an individual. And I am that [laughs]. I am that all day long. And I will continue to be, because of Frank. He’s the foremost in my mind, in my heart, in my music, everyday. I write all about Frank. I’ve written a beautiful book with many chapters – one is “Frank Zappa”, one is “Dale”, one is “Missing Persons”, one is “My Family”, “Jamie Shoop” is one, and “Prince”.

Prince was a big chapter in my life. He was sort of the second person. He took over after Frank. He directed me with my music. He wrote a beautiful song for me, called “So Strong”, which is exactly what I am. I’m so strong, it’s overwhelming even to myself. I will never stop the music. I will never, ever stop my music. I will continue to sing and play until I die.

JM: Speaking of Prince, how did you meet him, and are there any Prince stories that you’re willing to share?

DB: I met Prince because I went to this club called Tramps in Beverly Hills. It was chichi, and was the place to go in the ’80’s. I saw him in the crowd – he was with his two bodyguards – and I walked over to him and I poked him on the nose [laughs]. He was in shock. His bodyguards approached me [laughs], and he said, “You just poked me on the nose!” “Yep, I did, because I want you to dance with me, and I want your attention.” He said, “You got it.” I said, “Let’s dance,” he said, “OK”. They were playing “Red Corvette”. And he said, “Let’s sit down,” so we sat down. He said, “Are you drinking?” I said, “Sure, champagne.” He ordered the Dom Perignon. He said, “Do you have a car?” I said, “I do.” He said, “What kind of car do you have?” I said, “I have a Corvette.” He said, “What color?” I said, “Red!” [laughs] It’s hysterical. It’s hysterical now, and I laugh in joy.

He was an incredible, secretive, amazing little man. Genius is too trite. He was a butterfly in his own right, and he soared. If he wasn’t feeling well, then that’s how he felt. If he didn’t want to be here anymore, that’s his right. And that was his right to take pills, drink, smoke, dance, fuck. Whatever you want to do. This is your life.

Everywhere I speak this to, not just Prince, not just me, my sons. You’ve got to stand up for your life and and your rights, not just say, “OK, sure, walk all over me like a wet doormat”. That’s not what we do here. We’re here for a reason. If you don’t think so, you’re an idiot. That’s my quote on life [laughs], because it’s very important. Every step you take, and every issue you solve, everything you touch, you’re making history, your own self. And you can change the world. That’s how I see it, with everything and everyone we pass and everything we do. That’s why I make music and write the things I write, and write them the way I write them. Because I want you to think about what I’m talking about, and try to make it easier on yourself. In return, the life and the world becomes better for your neighbor and your children and your family.

We’re used to fighting and having wars and killing people. I can’t understand it. It’s a place to grow, to make things better. You plant that mustard seed and it grows the greatest tree ever, the biggest, tallest tree in the world from the tiniest seed. How is it possible? It’s possible because you have faith and hope in tomorrow, and that’s what I live for.

I live for the grace of God, and I believe greatly. I fell forty feet out of a window when I was twenty-two years old. After I was in the magazine and I made Joe’s Garage with Frank. A terrible, terrible disaster. I was in a hotel with my cousin who had an asthma attack and had to go to the hospital, and a guy came into my hotel room to try to attack me. I ran to the window for help, and in return I fell out the window, because he fought me and pulled me back in and out, and I wasn’t going to succumb to his insanity. I fell forty feet out of a Holiday Inn window and landed on my head. I was twenty-two years old. I was on life support for months, almost a year.

I woke up and became who I am now. Every single day, I think and do and act on my own, for myself, to recover and consider the rest of the world, not just as a selfish mode. I’m altruistic, and I always will be. I write about these things – “Destination Unknown” – because of how I believe. That’s how I have my cult of fans, and the people that love and believe me, because they know I’m honest and true. I tell you, if you had mud on your face I would want you to wash your face to be more beautiful than me. And that is something people have to learn to give, not go get a plastic nose and wear fancy shoes. That’s not the answer to life, I guarantee. When you close your eyes and you’re afraid, those sneakers are not going to save you.

That’s all the things that I’ve learned from my friends Prince and Frank. They taught me a lot of things. I had a mad love affair with Prince, but I did not ever sleep with Frank. Frank is my mentor, and I’m famous because Frank adored me. He gave me the opportunity of a lifetime, that I will never live down. I look at him every day and thank him. Because without Frank I’m not Dale.

I’m very grateful to be alive. When I woke up from that fall I became a whole new person. I mean, I split my head open, broke my kneecap and my ribs. It was no simple little problem. I had to learn how to walk again, I couldn’t see, and I was fearful of every little speck of noise. I couldn’t sleep with the lights off – I still can’t. But I have courage, and that’s what saves my ass every day. Just when I think I can’t take it anymore, I think of that day when I almost never woke up again. I knew it, too. I knew it when I was falling, and I knew it was about to end. I’m grateful to be here. This is a special place for all of us, and we shouldn’t be sad or angered, and we need to lend a helping hand. All the people that don’t have what we have, we need to share. We need to break our cookies in half and give them away. That will solve every problem on the planet.

JM: I want to ask you about the first Missing Persons album, which believe it or not is turning thirty-five years old this year.

DB: I believe it!

JM: Looking back, what are your reflections on that album?

DB: That is the album that signifies what we stand for. Terry and Warren wanted my face on that cover for some reason, and that’s an iconic picture as well. Glen Wexler took that picture. We said, let’s put a blue swash across my face because [laughs] I’m never normal. I’m always a little bit off. And that’s OK by me. I’d rather be a little bit off than someone taking me out. I’d rather break my own lightbulb than have someone break it for me.

That album was very creative. We made the demo at Frank’s studio, in his house. Frank looked at the three of us and said, “You three should put a band together. Call yourself the Cute Persons.” We said, “Sure Frank. We’ll do that. We work for you, Frank. We can’t do that.” He said, “Oh, yeah you can.” We went in the studio, we made the demo in his house, we used his Kurtzweil. We christened his studio at 7885 Woodrow Wilson Drive, his infamous house. He came back – for Halloween he played New York – and he listened to “Mental Hopscotch” and he said, “That’s my favorite song.” So he said, “Now go to work. Now you’ve got to go get a deal.”

And we rehearsed every day, six days a week, Terry, Warren, and I. We put our whole lives into that music. And we made it happen. We did it. We evolved, and we stayed together as long as we possibly could.

I made a big upset between Terry and Warren. I walked in one day and I quit. I was pretty full of myself, and I didn’t really think I needed them. And I don’t regret it, because that let Warren loose. And Warren went in Duran Duran for fifteen years. He wrote “Ordinary World”, and he’s a scholar. There’s nobody like Warren. He’s a melody maestro, and I love him with all my heart. I really wish that I could be with Terry and Warren one more time. Just one more time. But I doubt that will ever happen. And I have an incredible band now. They are half my age, and my bass player is Prescott Niles from The Knack, who’s a wonderful dear friend of mine.

So I go on. I carry the torch. That’s what I do. And I sing all these songs. They’re all the songs I wrote along with Terry and Warren, and they’re very personal to me. They are inspiring to me, and they make me feel better about my life. They make me feel like a worthy person. And that’s [laughs] a very important thing to feel, to feel really special about yourself. Then you can do other things that make the world a better place. Now I see it. It sounds trite, it sounds simple, and it’s a really big job. I work at it every single day. Every day of my life I work toward doing something for Missing Persons, speaking well and highly of the musicians that have graced the stage with me, and the people that I know. I have nothing but incredible memories of all of Missing Persons, and that record is a stamp on a letter that I mailed. That’s how I feel about it. It’s something I passed on. I just keep giving it away. I sing these songs to give them away, for someone else to sing them later. That’s all. And I’m happy to be me.

I don’t discourage anyone from being in the music business, but I warn you that this is a lifetime. This is not one hit record, this is not one rehearsal and one concert. This is a commitment for when you’re sleeping, this is not just a hello today, goodbye tomorrow job. This is your life’s endeavor, and that’s what I’ve chosen to be, this person, because of Frank. And really, I went to Emerson College and I wanted to be a movie star in Boston. I was a Playboy Bunny there in Boston. My whole life was spent in Medford, Massachusetts. And all my friends are there, and my world now is all music. It’s all this music. I made that commitment. And my sons have come along with me, my husbands, my family. Everyone that knows me made a commitment along with me to make this music great. That’s an incredible legacy right there. None of my friends have let me down, and all of my listeners just keep growing old.

JM: And there are new listeners, too. I told my daughters that I’m interviewing the woman who sang “Walking In L.A.”. They know the song, so you have some young fans as well. How did that particular song come together?

DB: Actually it was kind of quirky. Terry and Warren were waiting for me outside of the apartment where we all lived, and I was always doing something. I went back in to get something, and I came out and they said, “Do you know that nobody walks in L.A.?” [laughs] I went, “Ah, yeah, I noticed that a little bit.” So that’s how it started. And that’s it. And Terry just said, “OK, here we go. This is the song that we’re singing today.” Terry’s a great songwriter. He wrote “Words”. Terry’s an incredible songwriter, and what was so unique about us is that Terry would sit down and pick up the guitar, and Warren would go sit at the drums and go, “Terry, play it like this.” [laughs] Yeah, they are very eclectic. I think they’re geniuses, those two. It’s proven itself. And Frank only picked those type of people to be around him, anyway. I think Frank picked me because I was funny [laughs].

JM: Something that stands out about the Missing Persons music is your distinct vocal style. How did that develop?

DB: You know what, that’s just what I do. That is just me. I’m known to do that even in my daily life [laughs] – the singing and making funny noises. I have an infectious laugh, and Frank recognized that immediately the day he met me, that day I was telling you about that I opened the door at his warehouse. He said to me, “Dale, with that accent, the way you speak, I’m going to make you a household word.” And I looked at him and said, “Sure Frank.” [laughs] “Sure you are.” [laughs] I doubted him then, but I learned very quickly not to doubt Frank. And I don’t laugh at him in a trite manner. I laugh at him very nervously.

I’ll cry when we hang up this phone because he instated in me that I was irreplaceable. No one could ever take my place. People will try, and try to sing like me, they’ll try to look like me, and emulate me, which I will find to be flattering. Because I know what Frank told me. I’m irreplaceable. That is something that I will take to my grave. It makes me feel so honored to have known Frank. I know that people love Frank, I know they love his music. He’s the most provocative artist / musician ever. Ever, ever, ever, ever. He takes you to another level. He pushes you over the edge. He stretched me like a gummy bear. That’s what he did. And I never knew that I could sing until Frank told me I could, and made me do it. And now, I could sing from the top of the hilltop. I don’t need effects and people to tell me what to do, and I’m very grateful that Terry and Warren helped me my whole career, and Frank.

And then I had the most incredible time with Prince. We had talks for hours on end. I played psychiatrist to him, which I do to a lot of my friends [laughs]. I’m kind of their judge and jury. They’ll know, and you’ll know, that I’m telling the truth, and you’re going to want to tell me the truth so I would tell you back the truth that I feel for you. That’s how it goes. That’s why I wouldn’t want anyone to be any more sadder than I, and I will take the punch for you. I will. I know there’s a great God, and I know we all have a reason here. It’s a trail.

You know, I was named after Dale Evans. Dale Evans was Roy Rogers’ wife. An incredible singer. My father named me, and I love that. I love that. She was an incredible person. It’s a century ago that all these people were here before us, and look at all of the incredible things we remember about so many people. Fine, fine people – entertainers, designers, inventors, people that have saved us with medicine. There are so many people here that do what we don’t even know what they do. And we need to be grateful. That’s where it’s coming from for me. Be grateful, and what I have to give, I give it back. Every day.

I’m so glad that you would call me to talk to me about this, because as much as the music makes me live, the story behind it is how I made that music. Now I’m writing and writing. I have a whole new book that I’ve written about my memoirs and my life – I told you about the chapters – and my great friends. I have a book of a hundred poems for someone who thinks they want to know more. I write. I’m a writer, and I always have been.

When I was a little girl, my mother left when I was tiny, and I was very sad and lonely. My father raised me in a big giant house with eleven fireplaces. But nothing made up for the missing space in my heart. I was lonely, and that feeling never goes away. Because we think we’re indispensable, but we’re not. We’re a collection of all the things that hurt, and the sadness, and the happiness that we’ve collected. We’ve just got to shuffle it up a little bit, because if every problem becomes the solution then you won’t have to worry. All you have to do is live. Right foot, left foot, you get there. And you do it every day. You plan, and that’s what I’ve done, and that’s how I’ve become who I am. I’m so grateful that you called me today, that I can tell you. This is like an epiphany to me.

You know, I’m 62 years old, and I go out every weekend and sing these songs. I see all kinds of faces, and friends from all walks of life. It’s my recipe to stay alive. It works for me. I wish it would work for everyone, but you’ve got to find your little niche, like you have. This works for you, and it makes your life enriched. Rock on! Everyone’s going to see the sun set, and no matter where you live the sun’s going to come up. It’s like that song, “The sun will come out tomorrow”. It will, even if it’s behind the clouds. If we reach for the sun, we fall short to the stars, but we’re a purposeful person, and that’s all I’m hoping that people will see. And be kind. Then we have an opportunity. If Frank Zappa didn’t say, “Come in here”, where would I be today?

JM: What advice would you give to an aspiring musician?

DB: To quit now [laughs], and play for yourself. My son is an incredible guitar player. Incredible. He plays hours and hours every day, and the only thing he ever wants on his birthday is a new guitar. For Christmas, a new guitar. He’s a big boy – he’s 6’5″, he’s very handsome. I have two of them. One’s born on my birthday. I say to them, “Do it for yourself. Do it for yourself. There’s no one else listening here but you [laughs].” I don’t know why it’s so difficult to understand that, but this is all about you. It’s all about me, and what I’m listening to, and what I’m thinking that I should share with you. So that’s how it is with the music. If you can see it in yourself, and that guitar is a part of you and you’re going to sleep with that tonight, then you’re doing the right thing. Other than that, hobbies are nice [laughs].

Like I told you before, there’s the Top 20 and the Top 40. There’s somebody at Number One, and that’s usually a paid position. People have friends in this business, parents, relatives. Wouldn’t you give your sister a job in your store before a stranger? You would. Whether she had pink, blue, or green hair. Maybe you don’t even like her that much, but she’s your sister. You’ve gotta. You have to love her [laughs]. So she’s going to work there, not the girl down the street that’s an unbelievable guitar player singing at the top of her lungs. That’s nice, but they’re on every corner. They’re all over the place. I’ve got one over here, that lives with me. But that doesn’t mean you have to be famous. Famous is just a virtue of some figment of your imagination. You are famous to yourself. You are your own movie star. That’s how I feel. I’ve felt like that since I was a tiny little girl. I’ve watched those black and white movies and I say to myself, “Yeah, that’s who I am. I’m that aura, I’m that feeling that it gives to me. I’m the only one feeling this here.”

You think everyone feels like you. You think that they like your music. Maybe they hate it! [laughs] And you’ll never know. You have to do it for yourself – that’s what it’s all about. Nothing else matters. All these people that become famous, the money just comes along with the fame. They don’t just get rich overnight. They’re working their whole life to make these things happen. Prince worked his whole life. As a little boy, he’s sitting by a river with a guitar, and a broken one at that. It’s within you to be who you become. Whether you’re a nurse or the teacher that gives her sweat, blood, and tears all day, to make you greater than someone else. Are you kidding me? That’s a soul-searching feat.

Everyone deserves a star, that’s how I see it. And I walk among everyone here in L.A., and anywhere I go – I don’t care if I have shiny shoes on or dirty hair. I’m still the same person, whether I’m crying or I’m laughing. They forget that. They only see you when you’re shiny, new, and clean, and driving a Cadillac. And I don’t feel that. I see them all, I see all our poor, broken people, and I want to help them. I hope someone will read this, and just give a helping hand. Because we all need it. Everybody needs a helping hand. All the musicians before me, they were singing about all these things that I’m talking about, too. We just need to help one another, and make it a better place. That’s all, that’s all I care about for all of us. I’m so grateful.

And I continue to write, and I will, the best I can with who I have to write with and how I have to do it. Whether I have a piece or paper or I don’t, I’ll write on the street, wherever I can. And that’s what you should do, and everyone else. Grab what you can – paper, pencil, whatever it is. It can be OK right where you are. And that’s how I’m at. I’m OK right where I’m at in everything I do. Because it’s me that I rely on, and that I’m responsible for. And I’m proud of that. And I had a lot of great friends in the music business that made me feel like this. So, I guess that’s my advice [laughs]. And play that guitar when everybody’s sleeping.


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