Chris Morris
Stories by Chris Morris
Real Animal
I first laid eyes on Alejandro Escovedo Jan. 14, 1978, at Winterland in San Francisco; Escovedo’s local punk band the Nuns was opening for the Sex Pistols
Little Bit Country
As I tooled into Indio on Thursday for the second Stagecoach Festival, a jock on Riverside’s contemporary country station K-FROG (“Ribbit!”) croaked from the car radio
Spreadin' Honey
During South by Southwest in Austin last year, I had one of those oh-man moments. I was standing in line for an afternoon gig at Antone’s when a friend elbowed me and nodded his head in the direction of a black guy on the pavement nearby. I eyeballed his conference badge, and discovered I was in the presence of Charles Wright. Whoo!
Why We Fight
Where the fuck were you last Thursday night? Maybe gaping coolly at some trendy beardo in Silver Lake
Sweet Boneless Jesus
Chris Gaffney is a musical treasure. He needs your help if he’s going to live. Gaffney – “Gaff” to his friends – is one of those unique characters who cuts across genres with a blithe indifference to boundaries
Music of Many Colors
I’ve been listening to African music sporadically and unsystematically since 1986
Dig This!
Since the 1940s, when collectors began poking around in a search for information and rare sounds
Social Distortion
Listeners prone to gazing at their shoes have been cheered by some recent reunion events
