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Maybe you fell in love with the Glen Hansard busking on a street corner in Dublin, wearing a bedraggled broken coat, strumming on a well-worn, hole-y, broken guitar, wailing about his miserable broken heart.

Published in Reviews

The first time I laid eyes on Pearl Jam front man Eddie Vedder was 20 years ago at Memorial Hall in Kansas City, a venue around the same size as the Fox Theater. I had traveled with my college friends from Columbia to see the Red Hot Chili Peppers on their Blood Sugar Sex Magik tour and Pearl Jam, a then unknown Seattle band was billed as the opener.

Published in Reviews