My first wife said, ‘It’s either thatguitar or me,’ you know — and I giveyou three guesses which one went.

My guitars are my umbilical cord. They’re directly wired into my head.

I play until my fingers are blue and stiff from the cold, and then I keep on playing. Until I’m lost in the music. Until I am the music–notes and chords, the melody and harmony....

Chris was in the rocker, fully clothed, and was strumming idly onCory’s guitar. “Dance, ballerina, dance,” he softly chanted, and hissinging voice wasn’t bad at all. Maybe we could work as musicians—atrio -if Carrie ever...