Duane would have hung on until the last club owner in Tijuana fired our ass, and then he'd still look for another gig, whereas me, I would have been more like, "Why flog a dead horse?" I probably would have left after a couple of years if the powers that be didn't make things happen as they did. I would have gone back to school, maybe gone that dentistry route. Duane would have called me a pussy and hated me for the rest of my days, all while he became a real big star. (My Cross To Bear, loc. 1228) Well, I guess that's dentistry's loss, then...
Generally Acceptable, though lapses occur. File under: Southern grunters and good ole boys
An Introduction Autobiography Discography
In the Music Library: Low Country Blues Searching for Simplicity Southern Blood
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