2021-11-14 02:01:30 UTC
But I certainly PROUDLY am a (way too late-in-life) drummer, and even before I finally took up that exhilerating instrument, I had developed enough interest in the band by the early '90s that I watched (from the SF Bay Area, where I was hosting commercial newstalk on that same wonderful AM radio band) much of the late Graeme Edge's lengthy testimony in that civil trial carried by Court TV, covering the lawsuit by some former touring MB sideman claiming he was entitled to the same royalties due full-fledged MB members.
Meanwhile, I'm a longtime U2 appreciator, and a die-hard one at that**.
All that said: Since U2 first took America by musical storm in the '80s and, given that sticksman Graeme--love that Brit spelling!--and The Moody Blues had hit it big more than a decade prior, U2's amazing guitarist OUGHT to have instead adopted the stage name An Edge, doncha think?
* On good ol' KIRL/St. Charles, beaming out its iffy signal at 1460 kHz from across the Missouri River to us St. Louis County high school rockers.
** And consider it one of the apexes of my underground rock journalist career that I once--late on Monday night, April 20, 1987 poolside at the Sunset Marquis Hotel, just south of The Strip--not merely hung out at length with Bono following his third performance of a five-gig residency at The Sports Areana, but even for a minute or two found little ol' me fully a (not-at-all co-equal!) third of a quite memorable conversation. The three of us were chatting whilst standing against a wall, with Bono on my right and, to my left...yep, none other than that evening's unbilled guest star for a vocally-earnest two-song encore: the future Nobel laureate of lyrics himself, that quite serious (and seriously-gifted) recording artist with the funny nose, the funnier hair and the funniest voice.