THE LIFE AND SIGNS OF BILLY SQUIER
So there I was, reduced to begging for Stevie Ray Vaughan tickets at America’s Only, when the Editor ’n’ Cheap asked what I was doing that evening. He needed a scribe to go to Cleveland to interview Billy Squier. What the hell was I gonna do? Mere hours later, I was on a plane to Clevo without the Christian aid of a fresh change of clothes or toothbrush.
THE LIFE AND SIGNS OF BILLY SQUIER
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"I don't think the term 'heavy metal' should apply to me."
by Mark J. Norton
So there I was, reduced to begging for Stevie Ray Vaughan tickets at America’s Only, when the Editor ’n’ Cheap asked what I was doing that evening. He needed a scribe to go to Cleveland to interview Billy Squier. What the hell was I gonna do?
Mere hours later, I was on a plane to Clevo without the Christian aid of a fresh change of clothes or toothbrush. I landed at Hopkins, in the land of the Indians, only to be whisked away to the concert—located somewhere outside Akron—by a teenaged couple. Travel first class, you bet! I arrived at Blossom Music Center while our man Squier was still onstage, and the crowd of over 20 thou was going nuts over the man I was to interview. Very obviously, Billy Squier as a major league act had arrived.