O n Thanksgiving Eve this year, Kevin Daly died after battling brain cancer. I wrote a tribute to this beloved community member, which was published by New Times days after his passing. Before the article’s debut, New Times’ writers and editors were inundated with emails and social media messages, ensuring that we would pay tribute to Daly. The 69-year-old musician, originally from Virginia, was the epitome of cool: a badass guitarist who slung punk, rock ‘n’ roll, and rockabilly tunes in several bands over the years. Grant and the Geezers, The Hoods, Grave Danger, Flathead, Trophy Husbands and Kevin Daly’s Chicken & Waffles are among them. He was a member of the Midnighters car club, a mentor to friends facing addic- tion issues, and ran his own house painting business, where he met even more people. What made Daly the coolest, though, was the sincerity with which he approached those endeavors and the people he encountered. He was warm, enviably funny and generous. He was many things to many people, and sometimes became a part of their lives in ways they didn’t know they needed. The outpouring of support we saw, not only from the notes mentioned above but also the comments and memories that flooded social media, has been truly remarkable. Hundreds of notes turned into thousands. The City of Tempe declared December 11 Kevin Daly Day, fueled by the community rallying to discuss this loss. Here, we are sharing memories, senti- ments, and stories — a gamut of emotions — that we have collected, and we thank all who took the time to provide these notes. We can’t fit all the shared memories in print, but everything we received and will receive will be included in the online version of this article. Some of these stories have been shortened for space, but appear in full online. Reflections, in no particular order: Sisterly love Eileen Silvestro (sister): Kevin was the most fiercely independent person I’ve ever met. He was a funny, smart, and protective big brother. Kevin inherited our mother’s fearless approach to life, and they were and are an inspiration to me. For the last two years of his life, he fought brain cancer as hard as humanely possible without a single complaint. I will never stop marveling at that level of courage. His music will live on, but it’s a poor substitute for his presence. Rest in peace, brother. I miss you. ‘Hellfire, kid.’ Hot Rod Ron Carlsten (friend): I first heard of Kevin Daly before I met him in late 1985. Growing up in Tucson, you had to be downtown to see live music, espe- cially punk shows or anything that was then called alternative music. Most venues were 18+ to get in, and I was just under that when the state law changed to 21. My friends and I were doing the skateboard/ BMX bike thing at the loading dock of JCPenney at Elcon Mall. The loading docks faced a bar called Tequila Mockingbird, where they would have live shows of all sorts on most nights. We couldn’t get in, but we could hear the music outside the club. That night, we heard Hellfire. We had no idea who it was, but knew right away it was our kind of music with a twist. Punk and Rockabilly had a marriage that night. We waited for people to come out after the show, and I asked Al Perry who it was; he said, “Hellfire, kid.” Fast-forward to 1992: now in college, I was involved with KAMP student radio and began booking shows. Knowing who the Trophy Husbands were, I would get to DJ or book some of their shows when they came to Tucson. He supported the new bands and musi- cians, inspiring people along the way, blazing his own trail and letting others follow in the doors he kicked down. From his bands, including The Hoods, Grant and Geezers, Hellfire and Trophy Husbands, he took the musical influences that inspired him and put his spin on them, releasing them into the world for others to be inspired by. Grave Danger was the most popular, reaching a broad audience that loved the chaos that was on stage. Kevin always said, “Give 110 percent because you never know who you will inspire to do something greater than you.” Kevin, you will be sorely missed, and no one will fill your space. We will all cherish what you left us and make sure future musicians listen and take note of what you created with all your bandmates. As the trail boss would say, “See you on the other side.” Our trail boss has ridden off into the sunset of the desert. John Logan (Thee Madcaps ): I met Kevin Daly in the Fall of 1998, after moving to the Phoenix metro area from Tucson. I was playing my first show with Curse of the Pink Hearse in Tempe. No practice, letting it fly. Afterwards, this guy I didn’t know came up the stairs at Cannery Row to the stage and said, “That was amazing! Can I get a picture with you?” and he pulled out a disposable camera and snapped a pic. We started talking about gear, music and people. He introduced himself as playing for Grave Danger, who we were opening for that night. He then played a smoking set. Kyllan Maney (friend/artist): I met Kevin Daly briefly when he moved back to Tempe, and he was living with a mutual friend. Soon after meeting him, I was putting air in my tires of an old 1960 Dodge I used to own at a gas station. As I was filling my tires, I heard someone screaming my name for a car from the busy street. It was Kevin waving with his big grin. Over the years, we have kept in touch by attending shows he played. We used to talk about paint, since he was a painter. We always talked about him doing the base coat of one of my murals. I wish we could have made this happen. His amazing music and friendliness will truly be missed. The kind of friend everyone wants Bobby Lerma (Timber Giant): My brother- in-law is a Dutch musician in Amsterdam who plays Americana and roots music. He called me years and years ago to ask if I could find somebody to show him some ‘chicken pickin’ (on the guitar) when he next came into town. Of course, I called Kevin Daly. Kevin was so tickled that a Dutch guy wanted to learn some ‘chicken- pickin’ that he decided he needed to learn from the best, so he asked Mike Wolfe to join us. The three of them hit it off, and Kevin‘s excitement and kindness bubbled over with an invitation to play a couple songs with his band the next night. After finishing the two songs they had agreed to play, Kevin said, “ Alright, Abel, this is one of my tunes, and it’s in ‘G,’ watch me for the changes,” and then took off with Abel holding on for dear life, but having a blast. The next time Abel was in town, Kevin took time out of his ridiculously busy work and music schedule to learn 12 songs so we could back Abel playing a set of his music. Kevin‘s kindness, true love, and passion for music truly knew no bounds. The gravity around here, without him, is weaker. BY TOM REARDON & AMY YOUNG Kevin Daly at home with pups and partner Liz who is behind the camera. (Liz Adams)
