How New Wave Saved My Life

It wasn't long after my Boyz In Fashion era that I fell completely in love with New Wave music. Yes, being that it was 1990 (or so) I know that I was late to the game, so to speak. If I recall correctly, it was Respect by Erasure that really did me in. That rhythm, that voice and the desperation in it, really ignited a flame within that I can't extinguish to this day. I became voracious for that music then. I visited record stores and asked the clerks for recommendations. They introduced me to The Smiths, Depeche Mode, The Cure, Echo and the Bunnymen, OMD, Psychedelic Furs, New Order, Talk Talk, Pet Shop Boys, etc. I was completely overwhelmed.

As I played cassette tape after cassette tape in my bedroom, I curled up into the fetal position and cried like a child. These bands knew me. They knew my inner turmoil and strife. They turned my debilitating depression into something beautiful. Yes, I did say that. I started to find a certain comfort in that same melancholy, if that makes any sense. Where it was once cold and biting, it was now inspirational and soothing. No other band did this more for me than Depeche Mode (followed closely by The Smiths).

I played Black Celebration over and over again and then moved on to Music for the Masses. Those songs! Holy shit, those songs! How could they possibly know me so well?! Then The Smiths entered my life and there was no turning back. Morrissey's vocals, lyrics and melodies, weaved their way into me and placed themselves into that little area below the heart. You know the one where we keep all things precious? Right there. Luckily, my buddy Javier was familiar with this music and we began swapping tapes and recommendations. This is where the next profound era of my life began.

A few years prior, my good friend Tury Q and I had a completed song under our belt but it went nowhere. That creative flame still burned within me, though, and was only fanned back to life by New Wave. I wanted (or rather - needed) to create music again, so I bought a cheap keyboard and began teaching myself melodies and experimenting with sound. I attempted to transfer the melodies in my head to the coordinating notes on the keyboard. In those early days, as you can imagine, it didn't sound too good but I persisted. I needed to start a band, or at least collaborate, with someone who had the same passion for New Wave as I did. I found that person in Phillip Duran.

I met Phillip at The Oak Tree clothing store that I worked part time at, in Cielo Vista Mall. He loved New Wave as well and we became quick friends. Phillip was a good looking guy with light eyes and thick, black, bristle like hair. He was into New Wave fashion, as I was, and pretty easy to get along with too so, our friendship flourished. Him, Javier and I started hanging out almost every weekend - attending house parties, drinking and meeting girls. We'd also visit my old haunt, Copacabana in Juarez, where I got severely beat up outside of only a few years prior. This is where I met Eva.

Eva was my grade-school friend, Jerry's, cousin and he introduced us. Eva was beautiful with pale skin, long curly hair and kind, brown eyes. Her personality was incredible too and we ended up exchanging numbers. Honestly, I didn't think much would become of that meeting but boy I was wrong. The most curious thing about it all was that, without even knowing it, Eva and I had already met years prior and under very unfortunate circumstances. While attending her father's funeral, I leaned into the limousine and gave her and her sister my condolences, followed by a very brief hug. I had never met either one of them before that.

Years later, before our first date, Eva invited me into her house before we were to head out on the town. I perused the various, framed family pictures on the wall, stopping at one older male figure with a broad, mustached smile across his face. "Wait, how do you know this man?" I asked, incredulous. "That's my dad," she said. "He died a few years ago." I was dumbfounded and slack-jawed. That same man - her father- was the same that I would go hunting with in my youth, along with my dad. In fact, I still remember the exact moment my dad said those ill-fated words to me, "They finally found his body." My heart sank. I can still recall that warm, infectious laugh of his. It seems that Eva and I's meeting was more than just coincidence. It was fate. We quickly fell in love but it would end tragically years later. We'll get into that later in the story.

Quick Note: Eva's cousin's girlfriend happened to be my ex girlfriend (only a few years prior) so, you can imagine how awkward it was when we'd bump into him when out on the town. As you can also imagine, he didn't like me very much and the feeling was mutual. Okay, let's move on.

Javier and Phillip took me to the house party of a friend of theirs. His parents were out of town. As we drove up, we could see various people hanging out in the front with cases of beer all around them. "What's up, brotha?" Javier said to a tall, freckled, handsome, brooding guy. "I locked myself out. I can't get fuckin' in!" the guy exclaimed before he said, "Fuck it!" and headed to the back of the house. The sound of breaking glass soon followed as did the guy at the front door. He waved us all in.

The guy's name was George Navarro and he happened to be Phillip's childhood friend. In fact, Phillip lived only a few blocks away but I got the impression that George didn't like me, for some reason. When introduced to him, he gave me a dismissive nod of the head and a faint, "What's up." However, when he placed that tape into the tape deck and pressed play, I knew we had no choice but to be friends. It was Black Celebration by Depeche Mode. I think George recognized my fondness for Depeche Mode, as he smirked, ever-so-slightly and nodded.

As I had predicted, George and I became quick friends. That same night, George said that he had a music class project coming up and that he'd appreciate my help and insight. On a weekday, I went to George's house, with keyboard under arm, and plugged it into a reel-to-reel tape recorder. George was a natural with the keyboard and I was amazed at how well he played it. Beer and inspiration flowed and, before long, we had a nice little song for his project. Come to think of it, that was the first song we created but there were many more to come. Before I left that night, we had cemented plans to start a band.

The next time that we hung out was at Phillip's house and this is where I met Ernie "oh dude" Dodson, Phillip's nephew. Now, the strange thing here is that Ernie was older than Phillip so the fact that he was his nephew baffled me but, anyway. Ernie could've been a model and I'm not exaggerating when I say that. He had chiseled features, light eyes and great hair but his demeanor was very humble and reserved. He'd often say, "oh dood", in a high-pitched voice anytime I, or the other guys, would say something significant. That became his catch phrase.

That night is when we really coalesced as a group. I recall me, Phillip, Ernie, George and Javier sitting in the front yard, drinking, and listening to Depeche Mode. We talked about girls, work and, most importantly, starting a band. Man, it felt great to be part of a group again after my Boyz In Fashion era. I really needed that. I think we all realized, that night, that we had something significant in the works. Something that would bring us to the brink of stardom.

Before I move on, let's talk a little bit about Javier. I met him at Oak Tree and, as with Phillip, became quick friends with him. Javier was tall, preppy, muscular and good looking and with a great personality. He had this way of pushing his glasses up his nose followed by placing his hand on his hip, when saying something he thought important. He called everyone "kid" and it quickly caught on between all of us. We weren't known by our proper names, when around him, from then on. We were now known as "kid".

I guess this would be a good time to introduce the girlfriends of the other two members of our soon to be band. Linda was George's girlfriend and she was pretty and friendly enough. I knew from the moment I met her that she didn't care for me, though. She had a bit of an attitude when speaking to me and she always kept George close, as if sensing that he would run away at any moment. I guess she sensed what was to happen in the next several months. I suppose I shouldn't have blamed her. Incidentally, she and I ended up making out years later but...let's just leave it at that. Ahem.

Sandra was Linda's sister and also Phillip's girlfriend. Sandra couldn't have been more different than Linda, though. She was cute, in a homely sort of way and very sweet. As I recall, she was very affectionate with Phillip and encouraged him to write music as often as he could. She was very sweet to me, as well, and I appreciated that. I wasn't looking to take hers and Linda's boyfriends away from them. That just happened on its own and it got ugly.

In the weeks that followed, the gang (Me, George, Phillip, Ernie and Javier) would hang out at either George or Phillip's house. George's parents were so sweet and tolerant of us. They'd let us play our keyboards in the back yard until a neighbor would complain and then we'd go inside and listen to music or watch VHS tapes till late in the night. Our songs were a bit rough then but they were coming along and had a lot of potential. Our emerging talents for songwriting and singing were starting to bloom and we all took notice.

Around this same time, New Wave was giving way to several other types of exciting genres - Industrial and Rave. We took to them quickly and with open arms. Bands like Nitzer Ebb, Front 242, The Prodigy, The Hunger, Chemical Brothers, etc. grabbed us by the balls and wouldn't let us go. We voraciously took all this music in and it started to influence our own music. We were still melodic and New Wave influenced but, our songs now had that industrial crunch to them. Our music was evolving every week as was our determination to make it big. We were all in.

There's no better place to listen to good music than at a nightclub with an awesome sound system, right? Right. Well, this is where our musical career took its next big step. George said he was taking us to a new-ish nightclub in town called Club 101. We all packed into Javier's mom's minivan and headed to downtown El Paso and to a building that looked like an old warehouse. Parking was limited so we parked far away and walked towards the venue. As we approached, I could hear the thudding of bass and a familiar style of music crescendoing off the alley-way walls. It was New Wave. I grinned.

When we entered that old, musty building, angels sang. We looked at each other wide-eyed. Holy shit! There were beautiful people all around us, dancing and drinking and dressed just like us. As far as I was concerned, this was heaven. I mean, a club full of like-minded people, dancing to the music we adored! Fuckin' awesome! Later in the evening, as Javier did his rounds of flirting and the other guys meandered, I stood at the entrance to the dance floor. I recall seeing people dancing by themselves and feeling amazed that they had the balls to do so. "Don't they care what people think about them?" I thought. "Well, shit, if they can do it, so can I. Fuck it." I walked onto the dance floor and swiftly got lost in the incredible energy all around me. I danced and danced and danced until the guys finally found me in the middle of the dance floor. "Where the hell have you been, kid?! Let's go!" Javier said.

From that moment forward, we went to Club 101 every weekend. Most times I'd be with Eva and the guys with their girlfriends and we'd all have an incredible time. On the times we weren't with the girlfriends, I have to admit, we were a bit naughty. I can say this now because it's many years on and none of us are with those girlfriends. Okay, back to the story. We all flirted. Girls approached us or "Suave Jav" would introduce us to scores of girls and we loved it. I mean, come on, who doesn't love attention, right? All we had to say was, "we're in a band," and the girl's eyes would light up. Don't judge. We were young and stupid, okay?

On one occasion at Club 101, we noticed this big, tall, stoic white guy emerge from somewhere in the bowels of the club. Everybody seemed to know him so I asked an acquaintance of ours, "who's that guy?" In which he responded, "oh, that's Joe Dorgan. The owner." I didn't think much of it at the time but, little did I know then how much Joe would contribute to our success in the near future and to the success of El Paso’s music scene at the time.

We finally had a few songs written and were ready to take it to the next level. We gathered up a wad of cash and I called my buddy George Espino at El Adobe Studios who had done a song for me and Tury Q years earlier. Luckily, Espino was still at El Adobe and agreed to record us. The studio had changed a bit, being that they had expanded it and Espino had some new, expensive toys to play with. That creative electricity coursed through me again and I knew Phillip and George felt it as well. There's nothing like being in the recording studio, let me tell you. There’s this incredible, indescribable feeling that overwhelms you when you hear your recorded music through the sound room speakers. It’s truly magical.

The first song we showed to Espino was called "Revenge." Revenge was a semi-acapella, industrial-ish song in which George and I took turns saying malevolent phrases into the mic. Some weird shit I wrote about a planetary alignment in 1831 and telepathic power surges. Yeah, I know. Weird stuff but it actually turned out pretty good. Funny thing about that song is that the original version was really good but Espino lost the song somehow and we had to re-record it. It didn't sound the same after that but it was still good.

*Random fact about Revenge: As I was writing the opening phrase, at my Grandmother's apartment, I learned that my Grandpa had died of a massive heart attack in New York. I'll never forget that opening phrase for the rest of my life. Every time I hear it, I think of him.

If I recall correctly, the next song we recorded was "Joke," a song that George wrote. Joke was more upbeat with a fast drumbeat and lush strings. George killed it on the vocals, while all three of us contributed with keyboard parts. Back then, George and I tended to sing with a British accent, no doubt because of our huge British synth-pop influence. It's especially apparent in this song. We always got shit for that but, we didn't care. It ended up being a great song either way.

Next up (I think), was "The Wasted Years." This song I wrote but, holy shit, was it morose. Its lyrics dripped with melancholy, longing, depression and suicide. Aside from that, it ended up being a really, really good song. Apparently, I was going through a deep depression at that point. Funny fact about that song is that there's a point right after the first chorus where the mic was left on. You can hear George and I conversing. We're saying something like, "the harmony doesn't go there, kid. Yes it does!" *This song has been lost to time. To this day, not one of us can find it.

Now, the next song is a bit controversial and my memory is pretty sketchy about it. The song was called, "Give Into Lust" and apparently I recorded it without George or Phillip. A friend called Ruben was there with me. To this day, the guys chastise me for that and, George, in particular, will never, ever let it go. I can't remember the circumstances as to why I recorded it solo but, I suppose it was wrong for me to do so. Anyway, it was a song about just giving into carnal cravings without restraint nor remorse. There's a very funny fact about that song that I'll bring up later in the story.

Being that we were heavily influenced by the rave scene, at that time, the next song was rave influenced. It was called "Brain Power" and it was fast, aggressive and riddled with various, random sound bytes. One of them being a sound byte that said, "use your brain power." I was in my brother, Ernie's (RIP, brother) room, one afternoon, and saw a motivational cassette called, "Use Your Brain Power." I popped it into the cassette player and pressed play. It was absolutely ridiculous but perfect for the song I had in mind, so I took it into the studio and we used it. The song is good but not great.

This is where our goth side made its ugly appearance. We loved all that medieval English crap and we thought it'd be a good idea to make a little ditty that reflected that. So, George came up with a little harpsichord piece that we looped and spoke over in British accents. We clinked classes and acted as if we were at a feast situated around King Arthur's table. We even got Linda in on the action. "Bring me more wine!" I think I recall saying into the microphone while George said something like, "Where are the whores?! Bring me the whores!" The result was a short song called, "The Feast." It was fun and ended up being a very unique song.

Finally, a few months later we recorded "Sorrow's Reflection", a dark, moody, sweeping song. I wrote this song when I felt particularly lonely and isolated in my life. I felt as though I was merely a shadow watching the world around me evolve and progress, while I stood still and invisible. When we played this song back in the control room, we knew that we had ascended to the next level of our songwriting talent. This remains my favorite song of L.I.M. to this day.

And finally, "Will She Ever Know". I was so proud of this song, when recording it. It had a hard, driving dance beat that would make anybody want to get up and shake their rump. I had pulled the lyrics and melody from a song I had written during the Boyz In Fashion era. Espino produced it and it ended up being a fantastic track that X-21 asked to borrow on-stage. More on that later but, sadly, this song has also been lost to time. Not one of us can find it.

Okay, we had songs but now we needed a band name, so the gang gathered at Phillip's house one evening soon after. The beer was flowing generously and a certain green, flammable substance was being passed around. "Kid, what about 'Industry'? You know like industrial," I think I recall Javier saying.

"Industry? We're not a fuckin' fortune 500 company, kid," George responded.

"Hold on," Phillip said, his eyelids heavy. "What...what about Industry of Music?" The gang pondered that for a moment.

"What about L.I.M.? The Lost Industry of Music. You know, like the music we love is being lost and whored out? It's dying," I think I recall saying, perhaps a bit buzzed. At that time, three letter band names were hot (KLF, REM, etc). After some convincing, I managed to get the guys to agree to the name and we were set. That night was magical. We played our new songs over and over again and got really, really drunk but not just on beer but on the excitement of our future as well. I recall that it was Fall and the El Paso air was light, cool and perfect. We sat on the back of Ernie's car, our eyes shining and wide. Never would we have imagined that, in only a few month's time, we'd be opening for major acts.

Club 101 was white-hot and Joe Dorgan was bringing in major acts like the gargantuan Nine Inch Nails! We figured that opening for one of these bands was the perfect way for everyone to be exposed to our music. We dubbed demo tapes and asked employees of 101 to please give them to Joe Dorgan, along with our numbers. Weeks and weeks passed with us going to 101, on a weekly basis and trying desperately to catch Joe's eye. He never even gave us a second look and he was always just out of arm's reach. The call never came and we were disheartened, to say the least.

We decided that we needed to get the cassette out to the public, somehow, but we needed cover art and band photos. Phillip knew a guy named Joe "Hook" Lopez that was a photographer and we contacted him. He agreed and met us at El Paso's famous Concordia Cemetery. Let's just be honest here, we were goth in disguise. We loved all that dark, cemetery shit and thought pictures among gravestones would be perfect. We posed and scowled next to the gravestones of poor souls who were probably turning in their graves at these young kids disturbing their eternal resting place. The pics turned out pretty cool and this "Hook" guy was awesome too. Why did we call him "Hook", you ask? Well, Hook had this condition that made one of his pointing fingers freeze in a hooked position. Don't worry, though. He was cool with the moniker.

*Random fact about the photo session: When we developed the pics (which were taken in sepia) we noticed strange images on the photos. In one, in the bottom, right-hand corner, you could see a disembodied head with mouth open and stretched unnaturally wide. Not to mention the owls perched atop the gravestones that we hadn't noticed when taking the photos. Very strange but awesome none-the-less!

We created many copies of our EP and took them to The Headstand, a head shop that showcased local bands on consignment. I printed a promotional flyer and placed it right above where our cassettes were for sale. In those days, there was no social media so there was no way of promoting our EP so we just relied on word of mouth and the power of "hope". I went back, week after week and, to my surprise, several copies had sold! We were ecstatic that somebody out there was actually listening to our music besides our moms and friends.

Weeks passed and still no word from Joe Dorgan. Hook asked us to meet him at Phillip's house, one evening and we obliged. We gathered around Ernie's car, drinking and smoking. "I really believe in you guys and I want to manage the band," Hook said and we all looked at each other, surprised. "Oh dood," Ernie replied in his high-pitched catch phrase. Hook had always been mature for his age. He was professional, well-dressed and articulate so it seemed like a no brainer to us. We all agreed on the spot that Hook would be our new manager. "Don't worry, guys, I'm gonna get you those shows at 101. It might take a while but I'll get you there," he said. We believed him.

After a few weeks, we finally had our first gig. It was at a place called Campus Queen - a small burger/bar joint on the West side and close to UTEP. We'd be opening for another local up-and-coming electronic band called X-21. We practiced at George's parents house almost daily but, we felt we needed something else on stage to make us stand out. My brother always watched this weird VHS video called, "The Mind's Eye" and I proposed that we use that on stage. The guys agreed and, before long, we had purchased two plaster columns from Michael's and scraped up two small tube TV's to put on them. I bought a video splitter at Radio Shack and pow! We had our first stage prop.

I think the seven people in attendance (including our girlfriends) enjoyed the show. Being that it was our first show, we were a bit stiff and nervous but the stage prop was awesome! Several people commented on it after. We even sold one cassette, if I recall correctly. X-21 was pretty good. Their sound was a bit more industrial than ours but they had a great front man in Cesar Flores. He was of medium height, dark-skinned and had this crazy head of spiraling locks that he flung around emphatically. We got along great with him and the band but things would change for the worse months later.

Okay, so, around this time, two more colorful characters started to hang out with us more often. Eric was a good friend of George and Phillip's and we got along right away. Eric was a bit on the pudgy side and with short, curly hair but he had an awesome personality. He was always smiling and would say "cheeeese" occasionally and laugh. Another catch phrase of his was, "I don't give a fuck." For example, I'd ask him if he wanted another beer and he'd reply with, "Sheet, I don't give a fuck. Hand it over, kid." Loved that guy.

Gil, some of you may know about from my previous story. He and I had also worked briefly together at Oak Tree so Phillip and Javier were both familiar with him. Gil started hanging out with all of us after the band started because he heard that girls started gathering around us at Club 101. Man, he was voracious and tended to freak the girls out. When introduced to a girl, he'd take out his chap stick and apply it while looking the girl up and down and nodding his head. "Yeah, you like that, huh?" he'd say under his breath. We all liked him but he was a bit shifty-eyed and on the shady side.

*Random fact about Gil: Many years after LIM, I owned a small restaurant in Central El Paso. I hadn't heard from Gil for many, many years and I'd often wonder what happened to him. Well, one day, the restaurant phone rang and I picked it up. It was Gil begging me for a job. He told me this crazy story about him being kidnapped by drug dealers and locked up for six months in Mexico. He said they beat and tortured him because he owed them money. "Uh...what?" I think I recall saying before telling him that I'd look into a job for him and call him back. That call was never made.

The day we had been waiting for finally came. The phone rang and I picked it up. "I need all of you at Phillip's house at 9 tonight," Hook said on the other line. "What's going on?" I replied. "Just be there, okay?" Hook said before ending the call. Later, we all gathered around Ernie's car at Phillip's house. Depeche Mode billowed out of the car's low-fi speakers. The whole gang was there. Hook finally pulled up and walked slowly towards us, expressionless. He stopped and sighed deeply then shook his head. Fuck! I thought to myself, sensing bad news. I looked at the other guys and they seemed to share my feelings.

"Well, guys," Hook said, before sitting on the trunk of Ernie's car and looking at the floor. "What the hell, kid!" Javier said, pushing his glasses further up his nose and placing his hand on his hip. Still no response from Hook. He only reached into his pocket, retrieved a cigarette and lit it. He took a long drag then blew the smoke out slowly. We all looked at each other - our frustration building. "Cheeese," Eric said, smiling, but none of us smiled back. "I got..." Hook said, his voice trailing off. You got what?! Gas, cancer, laid?! What the fuck! I said to myself.

"I got you a gig at 101. You guys are opening up for T42 in two weeks," Hook finally said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. Holy shit! T42?! We all jumped up and down, slapping each other on the back, hooting and hollering. We took shot after shot of tequila while listening to our songs over and over again, that night. This was it. This was the moment that would jump start our career in music. I recall being woken up on Phillip's couch, by Ernie, saying, "oh dood, I think you're late for work." I don't think I've ever gotten to work faster than I did that morning. Hey, I smelled like crap but at least I made it on time.

The night of the T42 show was upon us. Eva and I met the guys and their girlfriends at Club 101 around 5. We were vibrating with nerves and excitement. We did a few shots in the car. Joe Dorgan was nowhere to be found. We paced around the dark, dirty club not knowing whether or not to set up our gear on stage. We didn't dare ask the bartender either, for fear she may become upset and say something to Joe. We waited and waited until Joe finally appeared, with his manager, and instructed him to tell us what to do. We set up our keyboards, plugged them in then handed him the DAT (Digital Audio Tape) with our backing drumbeat and various sounds that we couldn't play live. A quick sound check ensued and then we just sat in the shadows - waiting.

Finally, we could hear loud voices coming from the backstage area and we caught sight of T42 approaching the stage area. We gasped. Holy shit! There they were, stepping out of the radio waves and materializing right before us. We tried to act cool but probably looked ridiculous. I think the lead guy said hello to us in which we responded, "what's up?" almost in unison. We weren't assigned a dressing room so we just hung out in the back area of the club that led to an alleyway. We took sips from a flask that Ernie had brought in. The time was fast approaching for us to take stage and the nervousness was evident in our silence.

Finally the manager approached us and said, "You guys are on in five minutes." We froze - our eyes darting between all of us. If I might, let me attempt to describe the feeling right before taking stage. You can feel the energy of the crowd all around you. You hear every little sound being made by them. Whispering, coughs, laughs, etc. Then you're enveloped by the ethos of it all. You become confident and your chest pushes forward only to be punched in by the sound of the manager announcing your name. You freeze and your heart pounds against your chest. "Oh fuck! What the fuck are we doing?! What have we gotten ourselves into?! I can't do this!"

Then you walk onstage and it all goes away. You smile and look out onto a sea of curious faces - all waiting for you to sing that first note or hit that first keyboard key. Then it starts and you're completely swept away by it all. That first show was absolutely perfect (to us, at least)! There's absolutely nothing more beautiful than that feeling of camaraderie on stage. I could attempt to describe it but I would surely fail. When we finally got off stage, we walked briskly to the back area, hugged each other and jumped up and down. It was absolutely magical!

The manager of 101 gave us a brief compliment but we never heard anything from Joe. Quite honestly, we didn't really expect to. We were just so happy that we got the chance to be on stage at THE Club 101. After T42 performed, we mingled among the crowd and received several handshakes and congratulations. People were telling us that they really loved our music. This gave us some validation that our hard work was really worth it. Needless to say, we all got extremely drunk and passed out in the spare room of George's parents house early in the morning.

*Side note about the T42 show: I recall looking into the crowd and seeing a familiar, former Hanks classmate. It was Andrew Gomez - one of the football studs that all the girls loved. He had a look of surprise spread across his face. Later, he approached me at the bar and said, "Holy shit, Steve! You guys were awesome! I mean, your music is freakin' great!" I thanked him graciously but couldn't help but feel a bit vindicated. Here was this skinny kid that nobody really noticed in the halls, opening up for one of the hottest bands on the music scene at that time. I smiled.

In the weeks that followed, we worked hard on new songs and we completed a few that we were very happy with. As usual, we'd hit up 101 on the weekends and we began to get noticed. Girls and guys would come up to us and compliment us on the T42 show, etc. When our girlfriends were not in attendance, we accepted the random flirting from "fans" and this eventually led to cracks that began to develop in our relationships. On the times that we did attend 101 with our girlfriends, they began to notice the attention, more than previous times, and we began to get questioned by them more often and with more intent. "Who the fuck is that girl looking at you!" Linda would say while Eva would say, "That girl is checking you out. Too bad. You're all mine," while smirking and kissing me on the cheek. From what I could tell, Sandra was mostly quiet about Phillip's attention but her eyes were very curious.

Weeks later, we got another cryptic call from Hook, telling us to meet at Phillip's house at 9. We all waited for him to fashionably arrive late and when he did, he played out the whole mysterious routine from before. Lighting a cigarette, taking a deep drag and expelling it into the star-ridden El Paso sky. He sighed deeply then looked down upon the floor before shaking his head. "What the fuck, kid! Just tell us!" Javier exclaimed, not able to take the suspense anymore. Hook chuckled. "Are you sure you guys want to hear this?" Hook said and we all looked at each other, exasperated. "Cheese," Eric said, smirking. "Seriously, Hook, just spit it out!" I said, not able to take this game anymore.

"Now, before I tell you guys this," Hook said, pointing at all of us with lit cigarette still in hand. "I want you to know that I've been working hard for you guys and I believe in you all." We all looked at each other in exasperation again. "Yeah, we know that, Hook, and we appreciate it but if you don't fuckin' tell us what we came to hear, I'm taking off!" I said. All the other guys nodded. "Well, apparently you guys are opening up for Opus III next week," Hook finally said, casually taking another drag of his cig. There was a communal gasp between us followed by a brief silence and then a boom of whooping and hollering. We all hugged each other, slapping each other on the backs and taking shots of Jagermeister after.

Opus III was a hot, Irish band whose single, "It's A Fine Day" was hot on the airwaves and of which I was a huge fan of. It was fronted by this thin, blue-eyed, pixie-ish, stunning girl named Kirsty Hawkshaw. Yeah, I had a crush on her but, then again, who wouldn't, right? My heart fluttered at the thought of actually being in the very space that she occupied. We practiced hard and it was becoming apparent that we were coming into our own, stylistically and musically. Our set was much tighter and we were much more confident behind our respective roles in the band. We were ready for Opus III.

The day of the Opus III show arrived and we all met each other at 101 with girlfriends in tow. As usual, we waited in the dark club for Joe or his manager to arrive and they did so hours later. The manager gave us directions on where to set up our gear and a quick, sound-check ensued. Afterwards, we retreated to the alleyway behind the club and took shots from Ernie's flask. Then something extraordinary happened - the manager approached us. Oh shit, what did we do now? I thought to myself. "Hey guys, just wanted to let you know that you have a bar tab. 2 drinks each and nothing more. Good luck and I'm Eddie, by the way," he said shaking all of our hands before disappearing back into the club. A bar tab?! An actual, fuckin' bar tab?! As far as we were concerned, we were big time now. I mean, no mediocre band gets a bar tab, right?

We readied ourselves, shifted our shoulders and pushed our chests forward and walked up to the bar. We all looked at each other, not sure who should order our first official bar tab drinks. George cleared his throat and said, "Uh, yeah, we're with the band and we were told we have a tab. We'd like to order our drinks, uh, please." The bartender, nonchalantly, took our order and gave us our drinks. "To tonight's show," Phillip said and we all clinked our glasses together and took sips.

A few minutes later, I heard voices coming from the backstage area and then she appeared under the stage spotlight. It was the Kirsty of Opus III, standing no more than 20 feet from me. She was wearing loose fitting clothing and her blue eyes sparkled like a disco ball under the flooding spotlight. My heart fluttered. She then sat on the stage, Indian style, and placed her hands on her knees, palms facing upwards. She closed her eyes and just sat there for a while - my eyes fixated upon her. I think Eva noticed because she squirmed uncomfortably next to me. After a few more quiet moments from her, Kirsty stood and said, "Okay, I'm ready," in the most beautiful Irish accent I had ever heard.

Afterwards, we gathered off to the side of the stage area, going over our stage show when we were approached by Ian Munro, Kevin Dodds and Nigel Walton of Opus III. We stopped our conversation and just stared. I think Ernie tried to say, "Oh dude," but it came out sounding something like a choking sound. All the nervousness that we had felt, quickly melted away in the moments after. The guys from Opus III were so down to Earth and encouraging. Then the inevitable happened (well, in my mind, at least), Kirsty approached and we all became quiet. "Oh, this is Kirsty, guys," one of the members of Opus III said, as if it were just some casual thing. My eyes widened and my heart thudded. "Nice ta meet ye," she said, shaking all our hands. My hand, in particular, seemingly glowed and tingled after.

Kirsty, Eva and I, broke off from the group and chatted for a while, seated Indian-style in the middle of the stage. She was so full of wisdom and positive energy and I couldn't help but be influenced by it. All the nervousness I had for the show turned into pure confidence and excitement. In such a short amount of time, I got to know her backstory and the fact that her vocals for "It's a Fine Day" were recorded in their apartment kitchen. In the pantry, no less! Absolutely incredible.

The time for the show to start inched closer and the energy in the room began to build. Fans began to stream in and we watched them from the backstage area - smiles spread across our young, eager faces. Within an hour or so, Club 101 was completely packed. Where I would have been otherwise nervous, I was filled with complete excitement and confidence, as was the rest of the group. "You guys ready?" George asked as we huddled right before our name was to be announced. "Fuck yeah!" Phillip replied and then we heard our name being announced through the sound system. We walked on stage and there was slight applause. No doubt because, to that point, we were still fairly unknown but I knew that would change soon. "Hello, we're L.I.M." I said on the microphone and then the music started.

Pow! Right from the start I felt the incredible energy in the room. As I sang, I scanned the faces of the crowd and could see increasing interest begin to bloom across them. Their smiles were infectious and their bodies swayed in unison to our music. Halfway through our set, we didn't have to physically tell each other that our lives were soon to change - we just felt it. I remember distinctly, after George had finished his song, "Joke", a brief exchange between us. "Do you feel that?", I said to him, on my way from the keyboard to the microphone again. He just smiled, nodded and flipped his hair back, as he often did. This was it.

The realization of our new, budding musical career wasn't the only thing changing in my (and the other member's) life. Parallel to this, my relationship with Eva was shifting and beginning to crack, dare I say. I remember, almost near the end of our Opus III set, looking to the side of the stage and seeing Eva there. She was beaming with pride and adoration but there was also something different in her eyes. Melancholy perhaps? She blew me a kiss and my heart sank. Throughout this lofty journey, she had always been so loving and supportive of me. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt her but, I knew this was the beginning of the end for us.

After the set there was thunderous applause and even the outstretching of hands for us to shake as we exited the stage. We were surging with adrenaline and we all hugged in the back alley area - jumping up and down and yelling with excitement. "Kid, you guys were awesome!" Javier said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Wow. You guys were fantastic!" Hook said. "But don't get too cocky. We have a long way to go," he said, pointing at us with lit cigarette in hand. We weren't the poshy type and we loved hanging out in the club area after our shows. It wasn't to be arrogant or to accept praise for our performance, we just really loved basking in the energy of the fans. We loved watching the shows just like everybody else in the room did - amongst the crowd where you could feel the pulse of the speakers. We even loved the musty, sweaty smell of it all. Yes, I just said that.

From the crowd is where we watched the Opus III show. As expected, they were incredible and Kirsty didn't disappoint in her performance. Towards the end of their show, Joe Dorgan appeared behind the bar from the dark shadows of the club. From our favorite spot at the very end of the bar area, we watched as he conferred with Eddie - shooting quick glances our way before he disappeared back into the shadows again. Eddie whispered something to one of the bartenders before he approached us. "Great job tonight, guys. This round is on us," he said before walking off. "This is only the beginning, putos," I said before we all clinked our glasses and shot our whiskey back. "I love you no matter what. You know that, right?" Eva whispered to me shortly after. "Yes, I do," I replied.

In the days that followed, we all agreed that something was missing from our set. We wanted to step up our live show, especially with the lingering thoughts that something big may be on the horizon. At Phillip's house, we all threw ideas around. Another keyboardist? Backup singers? Live drummer? Nah. None of the ideas were sticking. "I know a guy named Carlos that plays awesome classical/flamenco guitar," Eric said and we all looked at each other. That actually didn't sound too bad. We all discussed the idea and decided that we'd meet him - if only to feel out his personality and hear him play, if nothing else. No pressure. Just for shits and giggles. "Think you could set up a meeting with him?" I asked Eric. "Shit, I don't give a fuck, kid," Eric replied with a grin. "I'll set it up."

We met Carlos at George's house. Upon first seeing him, aesthetically, he reminded me of the Mexican version of Robert Smith from The Cure. His hair was big and wild but, as opposed to Robert Smith, Carlos' personality was light-hearted and hippie-ish. He seemed to have an ever-present smile spread across his face and he spoke in terms of "cool, man" and "trip out, bro," etc. We liked him right away but...could he play? We sat in George's parents' living room as Carlos broke out his classical guitar and began to play to the backdrop of one of our songs. Any doubts we may have had quickly dissipated as he hit the last chord of the song. Yep, he could play all right but was he right for L.I.M.? After he left, we discussed his performance and decided to have a full set audition with him in the days that followed.

A few days later, we had the audition with Carlos and he seemed to fit right in. We were impressed by the fact that he knew all the songs in such a short period of time. Yes, it was a risk on our part to bring in a classically trained guitarist to a New Wave set but, we wanted to pave our own path, so to speak. "Welcome to the group, man," Phillip said to Carlos after we had a quick group meeting to confirm. "Far out, man!" Carlos responded. In the weeks that followed, we practiced the full set with Carlos, attempting to tighten up our stage show in the event another show may come along. Nothing did and we were disappointed. Hook assured us that something big was coming and to just hang in there.

During this time frame, profound friendships began to cement. Not just between me, George and Phillip but between others that were brought into our circle. There was Adrian Martinez, a short, jovial guy who seemed to know everybody and who fit right into the group, instantly. Marco Lopez was Javier's younger brother. He was tall and good-looking, like Javier, but a bit on the quieter side. And then there was Annette and Bobbi - two girls who George and I, in particular, bonded to instantly. Oh boy, there's a big back story to those two that maybe, just maybe, I'll expand on later.

Let me take a moment to side-step here, if I may, and reflect on what I cherished most about this era of my life. Some would say that your college years are the most precious times of your life but I disagree. It was when me, George, Phillip, Javier, Ernie and Eric would sit in George's parents backyard listening to music. Each of us would take turns playing emerging songs of the time as the El Paso winds whipped down the mountain and swirled all around us. We'd drink, talk about girls and wax poetic about the fame that we were certain was right around the corner. We all had but a penny's fortune to our names but we were rich with dreams and hope. That, in my opinion, was worth much more than a fat bank account or college degree.

When we didn't feel like going to a nightclub, the gang would go to two places, in particular. The first one was a gay bar called, The Mining Company. No, we didn't go there because we were "curious" or "in the closet". We went there because we wanted to escape from the typical, testosterone-fueled club-scene. Gay people were just so light-hearted, full of positive energy and just...fun. Sure, we got curious looks when first going there but, after a while, the staff and regulars became friends. They knew we were straight but they'd still tease us with statements like, "you all are too pretty to be straight. Come on, just tell us the truth. We won't tell anyone." More often than not, the girls would be with us and we'd just all have a great time together. The manager, Ruben, a middle-aged, plump, jovial man took a liking to me in particular. For some strange reason, I had a thing for root beer schnapps back then and he made sure to keep a chilled bottle on hand just for me. "Hey, Ruben, did you get a haircut or something?" I'd say to him, smirking. "Don't tease me like that, Steven. You'll get yourself in trouble," he'd respond, winking. It was all in good fun.

The second place we frequented more than The Mining was Kings X. It was a dive bar on the West side that had been there since the fifties. It had everything we loved; girls, cheap beer, the smell of burnt popcorn and great food from the adjoining restaurant, Lucy's. God, we loved that place! The bar stools were plush, stained and tattered and there always seemed to be somebody we knew there. Many, many fond memories were forged there - heartbreak, mourning, celebration, birthdays, new-love, arguments, etc. I met many people there who still have profound places in my life. Some have passed since then and some, while I'm in town, I see from time to time. I think I speak for all of us when I say that, in our vastly different lives now, not one of us will pass by that place and not smile. Okay, back to the story.

Weeks passed and Hook finally found us a gig. He didn't perform his usual, dramatic announcement but rather just told us over the phone. It was at an upscale Asian restaurant/nightclub called Meili's and we were disheartened. We were coming off a stellar performance opening up for Opus III and now we would take stage at a place where sushi and Asian dishes were being served just moments prior. Apparently the owner, Alex, was a young, hip, up and coming entrepreneur who really liked our band. He was a big fan of ours and, because of that, we didn't want to let him down so we agreed to do the show. We did the show and then stuck around to drink and dance to rave music for the rest of the night. Hey, we got paid a little bit and had a giant drink tab that we fully took advantage of. It wasn't that bad after all.

In the weeks that followed, although our tapes were selling briskly at The Headstand, we were disappointed in ourselves. Beaux, a good friend of George's, who worked there, assured us that people were asking for us but it did little to lift our spirits. Our practice sessions waned and the distance between us began to increase. At that time, I was working as a teller at a credit union and, incidentally, Eva worked there too. I asked for more hours to keep myself busy and to keep my mind off of the realization that my dream was deflating. I filled my days fake-smiling at customers while I took their deposits and withdrawals. At lunch, Eva would attempt to cheer me up, stating that something big was coming. Something life-changing. I took her words to heart along with immense appreciation for her staying by my side.

One late afternoon, the phone rang and it was Hook. His voice was low and deflated. "Hey Kid, I was just going to tell you guys over the phone but...it's just best if we meet at Phillip's tonight at 9," Hook said before hanging up. At first I thought it was his usual routine but there was something in his voice that sounded genuinely disheartened. As if he was perhaps disappointed in himself. I called Phillip and George and we all agreed that it sounded as if Hook was going to quit. George had heard a rumor recently that Hook was really down on himself for not being able to secure us a decent gig, so it made sense. We braced for the worst. Just when things looked so promising, this happens.

The mood at Phillip's house that night was somber. The whole gang was there and we numbed the gloom with shot after shot of Jagermeister. We listened to our songs without even looking at each other in between. Hook was late, as usual, but we didn't even care. In fact, we were glad that he was. It prolonged the inevitable. Then we heard a loud, muffled stereo system in the distance - increasing in volume and clarity as it approached. We all turned to look in the direction of where it was coming from. We could finally make out what song it was - "Living In Oblivion" by Anything Box. When the car turned the corner, we realized it was Hook's. Our hearts dropped. "Alright, let's get this over with," I said.

Hook's car parked along the curb, as usual, and the headlights turned off but the music was still blaring. Yvonne, Hook's girlfriend, emerged from the driver's side and approached us. She crossed her arms. We looked at her quizzically. She shrugged her shoulders and looked down. The music suddenly turned off. Then it began - a maniacal laughter emerging from the car. We looked at each other, confused. Hook emerged from the car, still laughing, and sat on the hood. "He's lost his fuckin' mind," I think I recall Javier saying. "Poor guy." Hook pushed himself off the hood and staggered towards us, still laughing. "The mother fucker is drunk out of his mind," George said, shaking his head.

When Hook finally reached the group, his laughter had crescendoed into short, muffled bursts. He lit a cigarette, unsteadily. I could tell George was getting pissed off because he crossed his arms and licked his lips before throwing his hair back - a sarcastic laugh rumbled within him. A clear sign of agitation. "Hook, what the fuck, man?!" George finally said. Hook looked up and pointed at George with lit cigarette in hand. He then took a long drag of his cigarette and expelled it before bursting into laughter again. "This is bullshit!" George said, turning to walk away. We all nodded our heads in agreement with him. "Fuck this, I'm outta here!" George said, walking towards the front door to Phillip's house. We had never seen Hook like this. He was usually so professional and level-headed.

"So, apparently," Hook said loudly. George stopped but didn't turn around. "Apparently, the Lost...Industry...of...Music is going to open for..." he stopped then lifted his hook finger in a "just a moment" gesture. He then turned and shuffled back to his car. We all looked at each other, pissed off. "I'm gonna fuckin' hit him," Javier said. Hook then leaned into his drivers-side window and pressed a few buttons on his stereo. He leaned against his car and crossed his legs. "Wait for it," he said. Moments later, "Kiss of Love" by Anything Box began to play. I think we were all confused for a moment because we just looked at each other and shrugged our shoulders.

Then it hit me. "Wait, are...are you saying that we're opening for Anything fuckin' Box?!" I finally said. Hook took a long drag of his cigarette and grinned. At that moment, from what I recall, everything seemed as if in a movie to me. Everything became muffled and in slow motion. I could see Javier, Ernie, Carlos and Eric hugging each other in a circle and jumping up and down. I watched Phillip walk to Ernie's car and sit in the driver's seat, dumbfounded. George had since sat on the grass, Indian-style. I looked at him and he ran his fingers through his hair and flipped it back. He looked at me, nodded and smiled. I smiled back. Phillip, George and I didn't need to communicate with each other then. We were all thinking the same thing - this was it. We did it. There was a lot of hard work ahead of us but we didn't care. THIS was it.

For those of you who weren't around back then, Anything Box was THE band at the moment. Their single "Living In Oblivion" was a massive hit on the radio and on very heavy rotation. Their debut album Peace was just as popular and they followed it up with Worth which was even hotter. Opening up for them would be a massive game changer for us. There was no doubt that Club 101 would be sold out that night so we had to be perfect. The show was only a month away and we practiced hard. Our set was tight but, for me, we needed something special. Something that would lift us above mediocrity. Without telling the guys, I called my buddy MC Kiki from the Boyz In Fashion days. He was a very talented MC (rapper) and I thought that maybe he could add a little rap to the end of our set and during the break for "Brain Power". He was ecstatic about it and promised me that he'd have something done quick. I had complete confidence in him but I decided to not tell the guys until the day of the show. I knew that if I told them before, they'd quickly shoot it down. I also knew that I was taking a huge risk but I also realized that the outcome could propel us above the norm. If my decision ended up ruining the show, then I'd take full responsibility for it.

The day of the show arrived and we were all wracked with anxiety. We called each other throughout the morning and afternoon wondering if we'd made the right decision. Were we ready? Were we out of our minds for agreeing to do this? What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?! These were all statements that we expressed to each other throughout the day. All the nervousness that I was experiencing was doubled when we pulled up to 101. Even though it was just 5 o'clock, there was already a line forming around the building. There was no doubt that this was going to be a sold out show and we needed to be our best. This is where I started to doubt my decision of bringing MC Kiki on stage.

The band and girlfriends arrived around the same time and we were almost silent with nervousness. Eddie had us set up our equipment on stage and stated that, when the sound guy arrived, we'd do a very quick sound check. The minutes ticked by painfully until it finally happened. Claude and Dania from Anything Box, seemingly teleported into the club from some other parallel dimension. A dimension we weren't allowed to be in just yet. We all stood there gawking at these two Godly figures as they walked the stage, strategizing their set. "Hello," Dania said to us, apparently taking notice of our gawking. From what I recall, we couldn't even speak. We just raised our hands in salutation and murmured strange sounds. Claude looked at us and smiled before they went back to their task at hand.

"Hey guys! Time for sound check," Eddie said, snapping us out of the trance we were in. We scrambled onto the stage and plugged the DAT player in and pressed play. Nothing happened. I removed the DAT, put it back in and pressed play again. Nothing happened. Oh fuck! The power light was on but the playing mechanism just wouldn't engage! The DAT had all of our backing tracks. There was no way we'd be able to play without it. My heart pounded in my chest and sweat formed on my brow. We all looked at each other in panic. We ran to the pay phone and called the only person we knew that would have a spare DAT player - our producer, George Espino. We called at least a dozen times and there was no answer. We asked Eddie and he didn't know anybody who would have one either. The doors were going to open in one hour and we were to go on shortly after that. We were screwed, plain and simple. Eddie shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t know what to tell you guys,” he said.

"Hey guys, you can use my DAT player but not all DATs play at the same speed. If it works, then you guys can use it," we heard a voice say behind us. It was Claude with DAT player in hand. I mumbled a thank you and took the DAT player from him and ran to the stage. I plugged our DAT in, gulped, closed my eyes and pressed play. "Revenge" boomed through the sound system. We all sighed and laughed. "Thanks, Claude," I said. "You saved our show." He simply smiled and said, "No problem," before seemingly floating off into the dressing room. In that moment, our idol became our hero.

In the back alleyway area, shortly after, Hook gathered the band in a group. "This is it, guys," he said, pointing to all of us with lit cigarette in hand. "This is the show that is going to propel you guys into stardom. I'm serious. You need to kick ass on stage. Steve, George, sing your asses off. Phillip, back them up with your awesome keyboard playing. Carlos, play the shit out of that guitar. The sky's the limit after this, guys! You ready?" We all high-fived and took shots from Ernie's flask. "Guys, I need to tell you something," I said. "I'm going to do something special during Brain Power. You have to trust me." They all looked at each other nervously. "What the fuck are you talking about, Steve?" Phillip said. "Just please trust me, okay?" After some convincing on my part, the guys relented and trusted that I wouldn't let them down. I hoped that I wouldn't either.

A few moments later, Hook pulled me aside where the other guys weren't in earshot. "What are you doing, man? Just tell me," Hook said. "I'm...I'm bringing a rapper on stage," I replied. "A rapper?! Are you fuckin' crazy?!" Hook said, running his hand through his hair and pacing. "Hook, he's good. I promise it's going to be great. You have to trust me on this." He chuckled, looked away and sighed. "Okay, man. I won't say anything to the guys but it's all on you if he fucks things up, okay? Especially tonight." I nodded and then noticed a figure waving to me in the background. It was MC Kiki. I walked over to him. "Are you ready?" I asked him. "I got this, brotha," he said. "You know exactly when to go onstage?" He nodded. "I won't let you down," he said, assuring me. I asked him to wait in the shadows and just jump on stage when it was time.

"Oh, dude! Look at this shit!" we heard Ernie say, in the distance. He was peering over the alleyway wall - a huge grin spread across his face. We all climbed up the wall and peered over. What we saw staggered us. There was now a line starting at the front door and snaking all the way around the building and down the street. Holy shit! We made our way to the backstage area and peered through the curtain. There was already a group of people pressed up against the stage and throngs of people were pouring in through the front door. Now at this point, I really started to panic and I almost canceled MC Kiki but I held steady. We had some promo t-shirts made for the show and I reasoned that, if things went bad, I'd just throw them out into the crowd to distract and buffer their boos and jeering.

"You guys are on in 10 minutes," Eddie said behind us. We all looked at each other - panic spread across our faces. I felt nauseated. My heart pounded against my chest. I asked Ernie for his flask and took a long, hard swig. None of us said anything but we threw nervous glances at each other until we finally heard, "Ladies and gentleman, L.I.M.," through the sound system. "Don't fuck this up, Steve," George said as we headed towards the stage. I think we were all stunned by the amount of people in the building. It was completely packed and sweaty, eager faces peered up at us from the edge of the stage. "Hello. We're L.I.M.," I said and then it started.

From what I recall, that night, I entered into a trance of sorts. It was as if I was in a movie where everything becomes muffled and you're watching yourself go through these motions. And then the music stopped and I was brought back into reality by roaring applause. I smiled broadly and made my way to the keyboard so that George could sing "Joke". He slapped my shoulder on the way to the microphone. I looked up and was staggered to see Claude and Dania standing backstage watching the show. Dania gave me a thumbs up and my heart fluttered. The energy in the building was infectious and the show was phenomenal. Phillip kicked ass on the keyboards, George sang his ass off and Carlos' guitar really complimented the music. The fans were ecstatic and reached their hands up to us during the set. We were a hit.

Then the time for Brain Power was at hand. I gulped and glanced to the side of the stage where Kiki was standing. I nodded at him and he nodded back. George and Phillip took notice of this and looked at each other, confused and worried. George shook his head as if saying, "Don't fuckin' do it, Steve." The rave beat started and the crowd moved their bodies to the dance beat. Finally, the break was nearing and I said, "Ladies and gentlemen, MC Kiki!" Kiki jumped on stage and I handed him the microphone. I looked back at Phillip whose eyes were the size of silver dollars. I glanced at George and he licked his lips and threw his hair back, obviously shocked and annoyed. Kiki let loose and killed the break with an awesome, perfectly executed rap. The crowd roared as he exited the stage. Shortly after, the song ended with its signature sound byte - "come on boys, let’s split!" The applause and cheers were deafening as we exited the stage.

"You were so awesome," Eva said, embracing me. "I'm so proud of you!" I kissed her and then said, "I just need a moment. I'll be right back." I ran into the alleyway and squatted in one of the shadowy corners of it. Adrenaline was pulsing through me. A flood of emotions washed over me then. Dissipating anxiety, elation, contentment and even anger over jeopardizing the most important show of our young, musical careers. Then a dark shadow approached me. From the sarcastic chuckling I heard, I instantly knew it to be George. He was smoking a cigarette and grinning. He threw his hair back and squatted next to me. "Ya know, Steve, when Kiki first got on stage I said, I'm gonna kill Steve. I'm gonna beat the shit out of him," he said in his classic James Spader-ish tone. "But then he started rapping and I was...well, I was stunned. You took a big risk, brotha, and I admire it but, don't ever do that shit again." We both laughed. "You know this is where it all starts, right?" I said. "Yep. Let's forget about that for now and go do some freakin' shots!" George replied.

We walked to the back of the club where the rest of the group was. We all embraced each other and jumped up and down. Afterwards, we were discussing the set when a big, white figure appeared from around the corner of the backstage entrance. It was Joe Dorgan and he motioned for Hook to approach him. We watched as Joe handed Hook something and then he said, "Good job guys," before he disappeared again. Hook approached us. "Apparently you guys made $200 tonight," Hook said. An argument quickly ensued in which all the members explained what they wanted to do with the money. I suggested we put it back into the band but that was shot down right away. We ended up just dividing the amount between all of us.

We then made our way back into the club to watch the Anything Box show from our usual, far, dark corner of the bar that, after much negotiating on Hook's part, was roped off for us. We were overwhelmed by the attention that poured our way. Fans wanted autographs and handshakes. Girls batted their eyelids at us and, most importantly, the staff paid attention to us. Even though the club was packed, the bartenders quickly took our orders and delivered them shortly after. We had stepped onto the next level of our lofty journey and we couldn't be happier about it. Anything Box absolutely killed their set and had the fans in a frenzy the whole while. It was turning out to be an almost perfect night.

Shortly after, the New Wave music began playing and the crowd turned into a massive dance party. All liquored up on tequila and adrenaline, the whole group and the girlfriends joined in on the dancing as well. About a half an hour in, we noticed a commotion in the crowd and we looked up to see Claude and Dania walking through the club. Although they were swarmed with adoring fans, they were gracious and thankful - shaking as many hands as possible and signing autographs. Then something we had never seen happened; Claude and Dania stepped onto the dance floor and started dancing. Holy shit! THE Anything Box were dancing just like any normal person in the club. We couldn't believe that such Godly figures danced just like the rest of us. We respected them so much more after that. I was at our spot at the bar, later, ordering a drink when Dania approached. I caught my breath. "Hey, you guys were really good," she said and I stammered out a shaky, "Thank you." "Mind if I order a drink through here?" she then asked. "Uh...well...uh...bartender!" I blurted out. She laughed.

We were in the alleyway towards the end of the night when Javier walked up to us. "Uh, kid, I was standing by the DJ booth a little while ago and heard that guy, Cesar, from X-21 talking a lot of shit about you guys," he said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "What did he say?" Phillip asked. "He was saying you guys sucked and the only reason you guys got the show was because Hook was a kiss ass." George's chest flared up and his eyes blazed. "Fuck him!" he said, starting to walk inside the club to confront Cesar. Hook stopped him. "Just let it go, kid," Hook said. "That guy is in good with Joe Dorgan and if you fuck with him, it might screw up any future shows." George relented.

Okay, so, X-21 were starting to get popular at the same time we were. Cesar was a very competitive guy and, from what we heard, he was livid that we got the Anything Box show over them. Although we were all about helping other local bands succeed, Cesar was having nothing to do with that. It didn't help either that he was one of the main DJ's at Club 101 too. That pretty much nullified us getting our music played there. The tension came to a head when, one night, we sent a female friend of ours to the DJ booth with a master cassette of ours to see if she could get Cesar to play it live. He took the cassette and told her to come back later. We waited and waited for him to play it but, as expected, he didn't. The girl came back later with cassette in hand and gave it back to us. "Sorry, guys. I tried," she said. On our way back to George's house, Javier popped the cassette into the player and X-21's music started playing! He had overdubbed one of our master cassette tapes with his music! That was the ultimate slap in the face. Things got ugly after that.

Flare-ups between us and Cesar began to happen fairly frequently at Club 101. He was a cocky mother-fucker and he knew we loved Depeche Mode, so he'd bait us by playing a popular DM song. When we were all on the dance floor, and when the song was over, he'd start playing X-21 and then he'd smirk at us from the DJ booth when we left the dance floor. This really revved up George, in particular, and he'd slam into Cesar whenever he happened to be passing him in the club. This caused Eddie to intervene. "You guys gotta cut this shit out with X-21," he said to Hook one evening. "They have as much right to be here as you guys do. Besides, Cesar is very good friends with Joe Dorgan. I think you know what I'm saying." Shows were way more important than a rift with another local band, so we decided to let it go. Or so we thought.

Incidentally, we were friends with one of X-21's other members and, weeks earlier, he asked to borrow my drum machine and I gladly lent it to him. I saw him at Club 101, one evening, and casually asked him for it. "Cesar has it. I thought you knew. He said that he'd give it back to you when he saw you." I fumed because I had seen him many times and he had never mentioned it. I wanted my drum machine back, in a bad way, now. So did George. After many drinks, I walked to the bottom of the DJ booth and flagged Cesar. "What the fuck do you want?" he said. "My drum machine," I yelled over the music. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," he responded, grinning and putting his headphones back on. I saw red. George, Eva and I decided to wait for him outside the club and catch him as he was leaving.

At about 3:00 am, he finally exited the club and we were waiting. "Hey, Cesar, where's my drum machine?" I yelled out behind him. "Fuck off," he responded, nonchalantly, still walking. George ran in front of him to stop his advance. "Where's the fuckin' drum machine?" George asked Cesar. "I don't know what you're talking about," Cesar responded, smirking. "Don't be a prick and just give us the drum machine back," Eva said, surprising me. "Shut the fuck up, bitch," Cesar spat at her. I should've beat the shit out of him right then but I didn't and it's something I regret to this day. George went at him, though, but it was quickly quelled. We were still close to the entrance of the club and Cesar yelled out to a hulking, black, Mad Max looking doorman named Madison. "Hey, Madison, this mother fucker just threatened me! Get him!" In an instant, Madison was on George and, although George could kick some ass, he beat the hell out of him and handcuffed him before Joe Dorgan intervened and told Madison to let George go. Eva and I were stunned as Cesar snuck off in the middle of it all.

Word got around quickly and Eddie called Hook to have a meeting at the club shortly after. "This shit has to stop," Eddie said to Hook. "We fired the doorman that beat George up but if the two bands can't resolve all this crap, they won't open up for anymore bands here. I'm serious, Hook. Joe and I don't put up with petty shit like this. Get it taken care of. I'm not going to warn you again." Reluctantly, the band decided that shows were way more important than a feud with the arrogant singer of a rival band. Apparently Eddie had a talk with Cesar, as well, because he also (although reluctantly) agreed to put things aside. Dirty looks were exchanged between us, in the club, but from that point forward, it never escalated into anything else.

At this point, 101's popularity was at an all-time high and this resulted in very long lines to get in on the weekends. However, we had become quick friends with one of the new doormen who, incidentally, was a fan of ours. He was this crew-cut, ex military guy who jokingly called the band, "Little Impotent Men." On Saturday nights, we'd walk to the front of the line to be greeted with, "Ah, Little Impotent Men. Come on in, guys." I'm not going to lie, we enjoyed the attention that came our way at that point. Bartenders were quick to serve us, people wanted autographs and, when not with the girlfriends, girls were always around us. "I could get used to this," I think I recall Phillip saying with a smile. "Yeah, me too," I replied.

Shortly afterwards, Hook got a call from The El Paso Times wanting to do a feature on L.I.M. Apparently the editor had heard about the Anything Box show and was impressed. Now, we're not talking about a small paragraph on section Z under a fiber supplement advertisement. They were wanting to do a full-page feature in El Tiempo. We were stunned. As we all convened at the front entrance to The Times building, it seemed surreal that we had reached this point in such a small amount of time. The photo session was so much fun. We even had a great time with the photographer in which we silly-danced while he shot away. You'll find that pic below. I recall the immense camaraderie we had in that room then. We weren't just band members now. We were best friends and brothers that would do anything for each other.

The next morning, when the feature came out, I was very late for work so I didn't have time to pick it up and read it. When I walked into GECU, everybody stared at me and whispered - pointing at me. I walked up to the time clock to punch myself in and my supervisor was there, reading the article on us. "Well, well, well," she said. "Looks like we got someone famous working for us. Great job, Steven!" When I walked to my station, with cash till in hand, there was a bouquet of flowers sitting at my desk. The note read, "Great job, last night. I'm so proud of you! Love, Eva." I smiled. "Great job last night, huh?" my coworker said, winking. When I got home from work, my dad was seated on his favorite chair, with the article on the coffee table in front of him. "Come here," he said, motioning to the chair beside him. "I'm very proud of you, mijo, but please don't lose yourself in all this, okay? I want you to follow your dreams but you have to also be careful and smart about it. Things can change just like that," he said, snapping his fingers. "And then where will you be?" He was so right and almost prophetic in his words. I would learn just that, not too long after.

Several weeks later, Hook had us convene at Phillip's house. He had since abandoned his usual dramatic routine and got straight to business. "You guys are opening up for Dead or Alive in two weeks," he said. A few years prior, we would've been jumping up for joy but, their allure had dissipated. They had since been far removed from their mega-hit, "You Spin Me Round (Like a Record)". At that point they were a second-rate act but we were thankful, none-the-less. We had also heard rumors that the lead singer, Pete Burns, was a very difficult diva to deal with. None-the-less, we showed up, with gear in hand, but were stopped at the door by Eddie. "Look guys, he...eh...she doesn't want any opening acts tonight. She just told me a little while ago or I would've called you guys. I'm really sorry but I'd like to at least give you guys free tickets to the show." We were shocked but not devastated. "Fuck this," I said and Eva and I decided to leave while George, Phillip and Carlos decided to stay. I learned later that half of the club left, mid-show, when the diva became rude and made derogatory remarks towards Mexicans and El Paso.

Around this time, we had become pretty good friends with Joe Dorgan. Although he was still reserved and somewhat elusive, the shell around him began to crack. He was actually a really cool guy and, being the forward thinker that he was, he had started a popular radio program called Stepping Out. Hook had been trying to get us on the program but Dorgan would always politely decline until Hook finally broke him down and he agreed to have us on. I still remember fondly that night in the tiny control room we were all cramped into. "So, why did you decide to start a band?" Dorgan asked me, live on the air. "Because...uh...the market is there," I said, instantly regretting it. "Okay. Any final words for your fans out there?" Dorgan asked George. "Yeah, buy it and love it!" he said and we all cringed. Needless to say, our first radio appearance as L.I.M. wasn't exactly stellar but it got us some airplay and more fans. Days after, Beaux at The Headstand called George to tell him that they were sold out of our cassettes. Word was getting around.

The Stepping Out episode caught the attention of an up and coming promoter out of Juarez named Alejandro. He called Hook and told him he was interested in getting us some shows in Juarez and even getting a live interview at one of the more popular stations there. He also promised that our songs would get pretty good airplay as well. "So, what do you guys think?" Hook asked us at Phillip's, later that evening. "I mean, it can't hurt, right? I say we do it," Phillip said and we all agreed. True to his word, Alejandro had our songs playing on the Juarez airwaves, soon after. According to him, we were an instant hit and he wanted us in the control room ASAP, in advance promotion for some shows he had lined up for us at popular nightclubs there. One being the infamous Vertigo. We were ecstatic. There was only one major problem, though, none of us could speak Spanish fluently except for Carlos that is. He agreed to speak for us and we were on our way.

*Side note: My childhood friend, Danny Piseno happened to be working at the same radio station that Alejandro was working at and he helped Alejandro with all the promotions, etc. No doubt, him being there boosted our promotions. Him and his brother, Sam, have since gone onto create a very successful remix enterprise known as Klubjumpers. They've done remixes for some VERY big names and even helped in getting a remix done for Phillip and I. It was a cover of Morrissey's Suedehead produced by London's esteemed Alex Parsons. You can hear that remix here.

When we pulled up to the radio station, in Juarez, our mouths were agape. It was a medium-sized, decrepit building in a less than desirable side of town. Anxiety gripped us and we almost turned around and drove back to El Paso when Alejandro exited the building and greeted us warmly and put us at ease. For the most part, Carlos spoke for us and Alejandro seemed a bit confused as to why we weren't fluent in Spanish but he was understanding and went on with the interview. He played our songs and asked us questions in between and promoted the upcoming show at Vertigo. If I recall correctly, the interview took about 45 minutes. We put on our jackets, thanked him warmly and headed towards our car. When we opened the back door to the radio station we froze. About a dozen fans were waiting for us with notepads in hand. The girls in the small group screamed and surrounded us - begging for our autographs. We looked at each other and smiled. The ride home that night was especially memorable. We were the best of friends, listening to music, ecstatic and high on our increasing fame and the smoke of a greener form of tobacco. Life was good.

When arriving back in El Paso from Juarez, we went straight to Kings X to celebrate. Javier, Eric, Marco and Ernie met us there and we all sat outside on the patio drinking pitcher after pitcher of cheap, warm beer. Our eyes were gleaming and we didn't have a care in the world at that point. Nothing mattered but that moment right then. That awesome, cool, El Paso night where 4 kids basked in the realization that their dream was coming to fruition. "To the 4 kids known as L.I.M.!" Javier said, raising his mug of beer and spilling half of it on the table. "Cheers!" we all replied. "I fuckin' love you guys," Hook said, with lit cigarette in hand and pointing at all of us. "This is just the beginning, kids. Didn't I tell you I'd get you here?" Hook said, blowing a plume of smoke in the air and grinning.

Vertigo nightclub was well-known both in El Paso and Juarez. It was a beautiful, large, stylish club that was always packed on the weekends. When we drove up, one late afternoon, for our show, we were amazed to find that a small line had already begun to form outside. Alejandro greeted us and the staff treated us like proper rock stars. They made sure that we had everything we needed and the drinks were never in short supply. A local Juarez band opened for us and right before we took stage, we peered out from the backstage area to find that the club was full. Even the second floor balcony was completely filled with fans peering down onto the stage. The show went great except for one thing - fans kept stealing t-shirts from a box we had placed towards the back of the stage. We were okay with it, though. We were going to throw them out into the crowd anyway.

Although we loved our Club 101 gigs, we were excited about the new Juarez market. The fans seemed to be a bit more excited and Alejandro promised that only bigger and bigger shows were soon to come. Well, our next show had us seriously questioning Alejandro's promise. Several weeks later he set up a show for us and basically just gave us directions to the club, stating he couldn't make it. When we drove up to the location, we were shocked. It was in a very bad part of Juarez and the nightclub was a poorly-lit building that was pretty much falling apart. After a heated discussion between us, we decided to do the show and it was a disaster. In short, we performed for a grumpy bartender and a stray cat that walked in, by accident, and that darted away in horror the moment I began to sing. We were pissed off and seriously questioning Alejandro's validity as a respected promoter.

Hook had a serious discussion with Alejandro and Alejandro assured us that it would never happen again. We decided to give him another chance. In the meantime, Hook got us another show at 101. It was opening for a hot, new Dutch band called, 2 Unlimited. Their song, Twilight Zone was a huge hit at the time and it promised to be a great show. The show ended up being phenomenal but, sadly, it was our last show at Club 101. George's parents were in attendance and, after the show, his mother fell in the back alleyway area and seriously injured herself. This, understandably, set off a legal challenge between her and the club which ended any future shows there. We now focused all our attention on Juarez.

Side note: During this time, X-21's stock had risen and they were opening up for some pretty big acts like Book Of Love and Cause & Effect. In a short-lived rift with the band, George had played the Book Of Love show with X-21 which, no doubt, had Cesar gloating and us seething. Incidentally, our producer, George Espino, had also joined X-21 and they asked to use a version of a song I wrote for their set. I agreed and distinctly remember watching the show from the dark corners of the club as they performed my song, "Will She Ever Know". It was bittersweet. The rift between the band healed and we were back together again soon after.

Alejandro presented Hook with an interesting proposition that he was working on - Battle of the Bands in Juarez. Alejandro had already secured the rest of the bands but he wanted L.I.M. included in the competition. The big problem here was that all the other bands were from Juarez and they weren't happy with an American band competing with them. We agreed but knew that we were in for some serious competition and the fact that most of the fans were going to vote for their hometown bands. We figured it would be great exposure, being that Alejandro was going to use the radio station to promote the competition heavily. I'd like to introduce a girl named, Maria, at this point. In the months leading up to the competition, Maria was a huge fan of ours and diligent promoter of our band. She threw herself into being the liaison between us and Alejandro in all aspects of the event. This allowed Hook to work on possibly getting us more gigs in the El Paso area. She proved to be an incredible asset.

In order for L.I.M. to actually participate in the competition, Alejandro had to reach an agreement with the other bands - we had to sing one song in Spanish. The song chosen was Give Into Lust, my song, of course! I panicked and begged Carlos to help me translate the lyrics into Spanish. He agreed. At this point, I was renting a room from Eric and his wife Misty, in a large, old, white home in Canutillo, on the outskirts of El Paso and bordering a dying cotton field. Incidentally, Carlos was renting a room in the opposite section of the house. One afternoon, a day before the competition, he knocked on my bedroom wall, which was adjacent to his, and told me that he finished translating the lyrics. I ran to the opposite side of the house and opened the door and was quickly enveloped by a cloud of smoke from an alternate, greener form of tobacco. Carlos coughed out a hello and waved me in. “Hey, Steve, these lyrics are far out, man,” Carlos said, sitting on the tattered couch with his guitar on his lap. “Awesome! Let’s hear them,” I replied. This is where things got comical and raised my anxiety dramatically.

“Okay, here we go,” Carlos said and I listened intently. I sat dumbfounded as he sang the lyrics in Spanish and they were nothing like my original lyrics. I knew enough Spanish to understand what they were saying and my jaw dropped. “Carlos, uh...yeah...uh...those lyrics aren’t even close to the original ones,” I said. “Yeah, I know, man. Isn’t it cool?! I mean, it’s like edgy and seductive, right?” he responded, his eyes wide with excitement. My heart dropped and panic set in again. Let me loosely translate the lyrics that he came up with, here: “Listen to the sky good. I’m hungry and I think I’ll try blood with salt. This night you won’t escape. I don’t want to, I don't want to feel this pain. I don’t want to but I have to take the blame. I have lust and I want to love you. Give me your lust because I want to love you. When you want to be, you are the queen that I want the most.” Listen, I admired Carlos immensely, because of his incredible talent but, this was a whole other level. Upon singing that song, with those lyrics, I was quickly going to be labeled as a sadomasochist. However, it was too late to change the lyrics so I just had to suck it up and go with it.

We all drove together to the first round of Battle Of The Bands. On the way there, I discreetly handed Carlos’ translated lyrics to Hook and his eyes opened wide. “What the fuck!” he mouthed to me. I shrugged my shoulders. There was no turning back. We were pleasantly surprised that the battle was taking place at an old, renovated theatre that had lots of character to it. This put us at ease. Maria facilitated everything for us and made sure everything was ready when we arrived. I think we went on second to last and, surprisingly, the theatre was packed. The set was going well and the time came for me to sing Give Into Lust. I was extremely nervous and when I sang the lyrics, I looked into the audience to see girls giggling and other people talking to each other, obviously confused as to what I was singing. “Fuck!” I thought to myself. “Hey, at least it was a pretty cool venue,” Phillip said, in the back room, after the show. We didn’t expect to win. In fact, we expected to be eliminated in the first round. Prior to the show, we had bought a bottle of horrible gin (I have no idea why) and we were drinking it, laughing and waiting for the results so that we could head home. The other bands were lingering nearby, shooting us dirty looks. Then we heard a ruckus. “L.I.M.! L.I.M.!” Maria was shouting in Spanish, waving a piece of paper in her hand. “L.I.M. made it to the next round!” We were shocked and couldn’t understand how we could have possibly made it through.

The bands that made it through to the next round and those that didn’t, talked shit to us. They made it clear to Alejandro that they didn’t like us. I could understand some of their grievances though. I mean, here was this fair-skinned bolillo coming into their territory and attempting to sing in Spanish (which probably sounded horrific) and he ends up making it to the next round while their countryman’s bands are being sent home. I actually felt pretty bad about it all. I tried to shake a few of the other band member’s hands but they scowled and said, “Pinche bolillo.” Oh well. The next round took place at a bigger venue in Juarez. From what I recall, it was a small coliseum of sorts. The stage was huge and intimidating. The day prior, there was a big news conference in which Alejandro interviewed all the bands that made it through. Carlos spoke for us and did a fantastic job in doing so. We were proud of him being that he took some pretty tough questions from Juarez journalists and answered them valiantly.

In the backstage area before the show, we started to realize the impact that radio play was having on our popularity. Apparently there was some sort of contest where several dozen people were allowed backstage and, surprisingly enough, people approached us rather than the other bands. Granted they were mostly girls but they genuinely knew our songs. They asked for autographs and wished us well on our show. I remember, in particular, us being very relaxed before that show when we should’ve been freaking out. Maybe it’s because we knew the odds were against us and we didn’t expect to win, so we just let it flow, so to speak. The set was great and fans were pressed up against the stage reaching their hands out to us as we played. During the set, I swore that I even saw the crowd singing along with us. It was surreal and beautiful. We were completely stunned when our name was called as the winner that would advance to the final round. “You mother fuckers,” Hook said, with lit cigarette in hand, pointing at us. He chuckled. “You mother fuckers are opening for Los Caifanes tomorrow night at the finale. Do you realize how huge Los Caifanes are?” Hook asked and we looked at him, confused. We had no idea who they were. Well, it ends up that they were one of the hottest Rock en Espanol bands at the time. Thanks, Hook. No pressure there!

The final round took place in the same venue as the night prior. There were three bands left and we were the last to perform. The place was packed and the energy was infectious. We briefly met the members of Los Caifanes backstage but, their immense fame was lost on us. We just weren’t into rock en Espanol at the time. Either way, the show went great and our set, in particular, was flawless. When the results were to be announced, the three bands waited onstage as the MC for the night read the results. We didn’t win but it was something we expected. The organizers, no doubt, would’ve been heavily criticized if they had let a band from El Paso win. Not to mention how ostracized and hated we would’ve been, as well. We were good with it and had a great ride home filled with happy smoke, music and laughs.

Now, let’s split off from the band life and segway into mine and Eva’s personal life that was falling apart rapidly. Look, the band was pretty popular then and temptations were prevalent and thrown at us every weekend. We started to exclude our girlfriends more often now, when visiting 101 and it wasn’t something they deserved. I ran into the ex girlfriend of a friend of mine at 101, one evening and she stated that her friend Monica (who I knew also) was having a party the next day and she wanted me to go with her as friends, of course. I agreed, thinking nothing of it because when she and my friend were together, we’d always hang out and have a great time. She knew Eva as well, so I didn’t think it would be a big deal. I picked her up the next day and we headed on our way. However, I found out shortly later that there was no party.

She (I won’t mention her name and may she RIP) asked me to pull off into a local park so that she could call Monica. We got out of the car and walked along the grass to the pay phone in the distance. She proceeded to act as if she was calling Monica and unable to get through to her. “Oh well, I guess we can’t go to the party now,” she said. “Sit down. Let me give you a massage.” At this point, I knew where this was headed and should’ve stopped but I was young, drunk on semi-fame and dumb. She proceeded to give me a massage and started kissing me and I let it happen. Well, as you can imagine, one thing led to another and nature took its course. On the ride home, I was flooded with regret and just wanted to call Eva and talk to her but it was very late and it would’ve been in bad taste to do so. I woke the next morning to the phone ringing incessantly. I looked at the caller ID and Eva had called 8 times already. My heart thudded.

I called her back and she answered, sobbing and gasping for breath. “I know what you did last night! She called me and told me! How could you, Steven?! How could you do that to me?!” Eva exclaimed into the phone. My heart sank and panic set it. “What are you talking about?!” I replied. “Don’t act stupid! She felt guilty and confessed to me! You’re such an asshole! I hate you!” Eva said, ending the call. I tried calling back, over and over but she just picked up the phone and slammed it back down. I dressed quickly and drove to her house. Her Mom answered the door. “She doesn’t want to talk to you, Steven,” she said. After some convincing from her Mom (believe it or not), Eva reluctantly came outside. Her eyes were puffy and red and I felt absolutely horrible. I tried to convince her that nothing happened but she wasn’t having it. Apparently, to validate the event, the girl had given Eva some personal attributes about me that only Eva should know about. I was screwed. This is where things got really ugly.

Days passed that allowed the situation to stew and amplify within Eva. The fact that I wouldn’t answer her calls didn’t exactly help things either. She knew where to find me and she did just that. It was the weekend and, as usual, the guys and I went to Club 101. Upon entering, somebody walked up to me and whispered in my ear, “she’s here and she doesn’t look happy.” My heart thudded. I spotted Eva almost immediately, sitting with her friends and with a profound scowl on her face. She eyed me and glared. She was smoking a cigarette which she knew that I hated. “Fuck. Eva’s here and I gotta get the hell out of here, man,” I said to George. I went outside and stood on the corner - trying to figure out what to do. Then, as if she had teleported, Eva was suddenly standing beside me, degrading me with her eyes. She took a deep drag of her cigarette and then blew it in my face before flinging the still lit cigarette at my face. Before I could clear my throat she was punching and slapping me. “How could you do this to me?! After all I’ve done for you! How could you do this to me?!” she screamed as I tried to blunt the flurry of blows she was dealing. A crowd gathered outside of the club as our situation spilled into the street. Dazed by what was happening, I think I recall one of her friends finally pulling her off me and I made a run for my car. I could still hear her screaming behind me. I sat in my car for a few moments - my chest heaving and trying to clear my head. I started my car and proceeded to leave before I was suddenly blocked by a car in which Eva was the passenger. She was screaming furiously as I made an evasive maneuver and managed to get away. I couldn’t blame her for being so angry and I’m sure the situation was magnified by copious amounts of alcohol.

Some time passed between Eva and I before I somehow managed to convince her to give us another chance. I still held to the story that nothing happened but I’m sure Eva didn’t believe me. I think she forgave me to just put the situation behind us and move forward. The band continued to practice and Hook called us to convene at Phillip’s house one evening. “Okay, kids, there’s a small music fest in Juarez that you’re playing at,” Hook said. “You’ll be playing with The Movement and Technotronic.” We were excited but a bit confused as to why we had been placed on a bill with Techno and Hip-Hop artists only. I mean, our music had some elements of Techno in it but we were riding on the tails of the New Wave movement but we accepted and did the show. To be honest, the show was just okay. The energy in the room was lackluster and there weren’t many fans in attendance. I was a big fan of Technotronic’s hits, “Pump Up The Jam” and “Move This” but the singer, Ya Kid K was just a horrible person. She refused to shake our hands and just looked miserable the whole time backstage. We lost all respect for Technotronic after that. The show was a bust and we moved on, hoping that elusive “big show” was right around the corner.

Around this time, Phillip and George’s personal relationships began to fall apart as well. All the girls wanted George, so it wasn’t a surprise when Linda found out he had “reaped the luscious fruits of his labor.” The big difference between Eva, Sandra and Linda was that Linda was absolutely vicious. She put George through hell - harassing him wherever she knew we/he’d be hanging out at, be it Kings X, The Mining or Club 101. Phillip was only human, as well, and succumbed to the irresistible temptations that were thrown his way. Sandra found out and confronted him, one evening, outside 101 where she aggressively planted her knee into his groin. Phillip collapsed and writhed on the concrete as we all ran to help him. “Good luck using that thing to fuck any other girls, you fucking asshole!” I think I recall Sandra saying. In the weeks following, we’d all spend plenty-a-night ventilating after which we’d down pitcher after pitcher of cheap, warm beer until the Kings X bartender would say, “you don’t have to go home but you gotta get the fuck out of here!” Afterwards, we’d sit in one of our cars in the parking lot of Kings X, playing music, drinking more and slurring, “we’re gonna make it big, kid. Just...just you watch. We’re gonna make it big soon.”

L.I.M. began to feel as if we were outgrowing our hometown. We knew all too well that El Paso was merely a stop on the way to Austin where bands would play to put a few extra bucks in their pockets. We realized that the shows would eventually stop and we’d be right back where we started. We began pressuring Hook to get us bigger shows but they just weren’t coming anymore. Until they did. A young, eager promoter emerged on the scene via El Paso’s hottest radio station, Power 102. His name was Downtown Charlie Brown and he had heard of L.I.M. He called Hook and told him that he was organizing a massive show in Juarez in which Anything Box would headline, supported by Oh Bonic who had several big Techno hits. Anything Box was huge in El Paso but they had never been able to crack the massive, Juarez fan base that idolized them. Although some Juarenses would make it to the Anything Box, Club 101 shows, a big chunk of them weren’t able to do so, even though they desperately wanted to. Realizing the potential attendance at this event, Downtown Charlie Brown got to work and secured a venue and date in Juarez. He locked down Anything Box and the big event was set in motion and he had massive support from Power 102 to heavily promote the show. Things looked very promising.

Downtown Charlie Brown asked that we meet him at Olive Garden, one evening, in the parking lot of Cielo Vista Mall to discuss the details. Now, DCB (as I’ll call him from here forward) was thin, white and very peculiar. This didn’t really surprise us being that he was a radio personality but things got a bit weird later in the evening. Throughout the discussion, I noticed that DCB’s eyes tended to fall in my direction and he had a little extra “sparkle” in his eye, if you know what I mean. Whatever. I could deal with that but it’s what he said shortly after that startled us. “Okay, so, I’m doing all this for you guys and I want something in return,” DCB said, smirking and perhaps wine-soaked. “Well...what do you want?” Hook asked. DCB proceeded to make a gesture which indicated that he wanted one of us to...uh...perform an act that was very popular in the gay scene. All the band looked at each other and then to me. “Hell, fuckin’ no!” I said, knowing exactly what they were thinking. DCB shrugged his shoulders and said, “well, I guess you guys won’t be performing then.”

“Come on, Steve. We really need this show,” Phillip said on the way home. “Fuck you guys!” I replied. “I can’t believe you guys are even considering that shit! I’ll quit the band! I don’t give a shit!” I guess the guys realized what a ridiculous situation they were asking me to participate in because they finally relented and didn’t bring it up again. However, we pressured Hook to work something else out with DCB in order to get THE show. Joe was successful in convincing DCB to keep us on the itinerary and we were beyond excited but knew that we HAD to be on point for this one. “DCB said he was just joking about the...the thing,” Hook said and I responded with, “Yeah, right.” We practiced furiously in the weeks that followed and, just as DCB had promised, the promotion for the event was very heavy and they mentioned our names alongside Anything Box’s on the radio commercials. They even played a snippet of one of our songs! As far as we were concerned, we were big time at that point.

The day of the show arrived and, from what I recall, we were all fairly calm and at ease. We followed each other in our respective cars and arrived at the venue in Juarez around 4 o’clock or so. The venue was a medium-sized coliseum that could hold about 3, maybe 4 thousand people. To our surprise, we were led to the backstage area and given our own dressing room that had food and drinks waiting for us. Holy shit! We felt like legitimate rock stars then. We set up our equipment on stage but noticed that there was no sound system yet. “It’ll arrive soon,” Hook assured us. A few hours passed with us going over details of the show and drinking. We co-mingled with the opening band, Petroleum Jesus, who we knew from shows at 101. Anything Box came into our dressing room and hung out briefly - wishing us a good show. Right before they left, Dania pulled me aside and stated that she was having problems with her keyboard and asked if she could use one of ours. As luck would have it, my keyboard was a brand that was similar to hers so it wouldn’t be that much of a difference. “Uh...of course!” I replied, giddy at the thought that her fingers would be touching where mine were only a few songs prior. Silly, I know.

We waited and waited for the sound system to arrive and it still wasn’t there and we were only 30 minutes away from the doors opening. We panicked, thinking that maybe DCB just didn’t come through after all. Cell phones weren’t available then so we had no way of contacting him either. Not to mention that a HUGE line had already formed outside and was all the way down the street. Juarez police were also present, keeping the ever-growing crowd in check. “Oh, dude! You won’t believe how big the crowd is outside!” Ernie exclaimed, waving us over to a window that looked out onto the front of the venue. The crowd was bigger than any we had ever experienced before and it was only getting more inflated as the minutes passed. Still no sound system. A short while later, a man came up and said that Hook had a call in the coliseum office. Hook returned with a stoic expression on his face. “Okay, kids, here’s the deal. DCB is having a really hard time getting the sound system across the border. Customs is holding it up.” he said, lighting a cigarette and taking a looong drag. “What the fuck does that mean?!” George said, flipping his hair back. “I...I don’t know. He just said he’s trying as hard as he can.”

7 o’clock came and went, still without a sound system. 8 o’clock arrived and the crowd was starting to get restless. We could hear them complaining en-mass and demanding that the doors open. Security became nervous. 8:30 arrived and the crowd began banging on the doors, demanding to be let in. At this point, we just thought the show was over and we strategized getting out of there without being noticed and mobbed. “I have an idea,” Hook said, running to the head security guy. We watched as they conferred in a heated manner for a few moments. Hook returned with sweat forming on his brow. “Alright guys, here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to start letting people in, slowly.” Hook said. “Are you fuckin’ kidding?! There’s no sound system! Hook, they’ll come backstage and kill us!” Phillip said, bringing up a valid point. “No, we’re gonna be fine. Once all the people are let in, you guys and the opening band are going to shake hands and sign autographs from behind the barrier. We’ll have security next to you at all times,” Hook said and the band collectively gulped and became quiet. Eva grabbed my arm and squeezed. “Hook, I hope you realize what you’re asking us to do,” I said. “Listen guys, you have to trust me on this, okay? Just smile and shake hands and let them know that the sound system is on the way. Got it?” We all nodded. “Far out, man. Let’s do this!” Carlos said. We huddled together and passed a bottle of tequila around and took chugs from it. “Okay, kids, let’s go,” Hook said.

We gathered the opening band, put on our fake smiles and headed towards the crowd. At first, the crowd didn’t seem to recognize us perhaps because of the pandemonium that surrounded them. Then, heads started turning our way. “L.I.M.! L.I.M.!” they began screaming and running towards the flimsy, steel barrier. A security guard stood by as we took pictures, signed autographs and shook hands. We accepted hugs from the starry-eyed girls (and some guys) and assured them that the sound system was on the way. Anything Box then made a brief appearance which threw the crowd into a frenzy. They also did their job to calm and reassure the crowd that the show was still on and that they’d take the stage soon enough. It seemed to work because after they were whisked away, a calm seemed to come over the crowd. “How many people do you think are out there?” I asked Hook, once we were back in the dressing room. “Well, it’s almost already full and there’s still people coming in. 4,500 to 5,000, maybe,” Hook responded, winking. 5,000 freakin’ fans. The number was just staggering to us. Here we were, 4 lofty-minded kids from the deserts of West Texas, about to open up for our idols in front of 5,000 screaming fans. Life was good yet surreal at the same time.

Shortly after, Hook ran into the dressing room and said, “DCB is here with the sound system!” We all sighed in relief. We watched from around a corner as the trucks backed up and panicked workers unloaded them in a flurry. We observed as DCB, sweaty-faced and on the brink of a cardiac event, ran around, directing them on where to put the equipment, etc. The crowd looked on, curiously. Within 45 minutes or so, the sound system was up and running. We contemplated doing a sound check but thought it would be awkward especially with 5,000 fans watching on. We decided it would seem unprofessional and just left it in the sound man’s hands and hoped that he was competent enough to carry out the show without errors. Then Alejandro made an appearance alongside Hook in our dressing room. “Good luck, my friends,” he said in Spanish. “I have big and exciting plans for you. We’ll talk next week.” He shook our hands and left. Then we heard something magical start to take place. A low but steady chant began to emanate from the crowd. It was hard to figure out what they were saying but we knew it meant one thing - they were ready and so were we.

Throughout the evening, our closest friends had streamed into the dressing room and were celebrating with us. Eric, Javier, Marco, my brother Daniel and several other people were there. I asked the band members to step aside with me. “This is it, kids. This is the night that determines our future as a band. We have to be good tonight. I love you guys,” I said and we gave each other a communal hug. “Never would I have thought that we’d come to this point, kids. This is the stuff that only people dream about and we’re living it! We’re actually fuckin’ living it,” George said and Phillip, Carlos and I nodded. Petroleum Jesus went on first and did a fantastic job of getting the crowd even more revved up.

Some time later, the stage manager entered the room and said, “You’re on in 10 minutes.” We went over last minute preparations for our set then stood near the entrance to the stage - quiet and vibrating with nervousness, anxiety and intense excitement. Our name was announced and the crowd roared as we walked on stage. Even though I’ve played many other shows since then, nothing can compare to that show. The fans were frenzied and stretching their bodies over the stage as we sang. The energy in that space was something I’m unable to describe accurately. It was truly magical and one of the most beautiful feelings I’ve ever experienced. Our set ended and we ran back to our dressing room, smiling broadly, sweating and still pulsating with adrenaline. We whooped and hollered and gave each other high-fives. At that moment we knew that what we had been searching for was now within reach - the next level of stardom. Oh Bonic was okay but Anything Box, as usual, was phenomenal. The scope of the fan’s energy and chaos, and how incredible A-Box were, can be seen here. That’s the actual footage from that magical night. Sadly, there was no video footage of us.

Let’s sidestep again to Eva and I. In a nutshell, we weren’t doing very well and that was completely my fault. My inflating ego caused massive rifts between us and we would break up and get back together again frequently. Then I met somebody who finally dealt the lethal blow to Eva and I’s relationship. Her name was Crystal and I had met her at Club 101 one evening a few month’s prior. Crystal was fiery with wild, hazel eyes and big, crazy hair. She was curvy and sexy and had this way of looking at you and biting her lip that would make any guy crazy - even this guy. It was New Year’s Eve and the whole gang was at Club 101. While at the bar ordering a drink, I saw Crystal a way’s down and our eyes met. She smiled at me and I knew there was no turning back. Eva was in another part of the club and Crystal approached me with a drink in each hand. “You drunk yet?” she asked, biting her lip. “Nope,” I responded. “Well, let’s fix that,” she said, handing me the drink. We exchanged numbers and headed our separate ways. That evening, Eva had booked a room for us at a very nice hotel somewhere on the foot of the Franklin Mountains. I recall feeling so bad on the way there because I knew what would transpire in the next few days. The next morning was a foreshadowing of the end for us. It was cold and cloudy and a dark mist rolled down the Franklin Mountain as we drove away from the hotel. All the way home, I just couldn’t get Crystal out of my head.

In the weeks that followed, Crystal and I were inseparable. She and I had a fondness for out-of-the-way dive bars and we hit almost every one of them in such a short amount of time. There was a raging fire between us but, in the end, it proved to be volatile. I had been avoiding Eva and the time finally came when I had to write her THE letter. I still recall the horrible feeling when folding the letter and knowing that Eva would soon read it. I drove to her house and met her in the driveway. I handed her the letter and she just looked down upon it, knowing what it said inside. She looked at me with tears in her eyes and my heart broke. “I’m sorry,” I said before getting back in my car and driving away. In my rear-view mirror, I saw her just standing there watching as I turned the corner and towards a payphone at the nearby convenience store. “Are you ready?” I asked Crystal on the other end of the line. “Yep! Hurry up!” Crystal responded. I picked her up and we watched the premier of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. It was a magical time but short-lived.

There was immense passion between Crystal and I but that was just it. I think we tried for it to be more than that but it never really coalesced. We ended up being toxic for each other. Things spiraled out of control to a point where it became violent. In a heated argument, one evening, I yanked the keys to her prized car out of the ignition and thrust them against the front window. Her reaction was to punch me in the lip, causing it to split open and resulting in a scar I still have to this day. It was deserved, I suppose. If I recall correctly, I think Ernie “oh dood” Dodson was in the back seat at the time and witnessed the whole thing. In summary, things got even worse after that in which she ended up sleeping with one of the band members in Concordia Cemetery. I don’t recall what I did to piss her off so much to do that but, I’m sure it was something really bad.

Now, around this same period, I was also spending time with a very dear friend (and sometimes lover) of mine. I had known her since we were both very young and during my Boyz In Fashion days. Her name was Jennifer Cotten. Jen was beautiful and with dazzling green eyes that, when falling upon me, made me feel like I was the only person within miles. We had a very special connection, to say the least. She always seemed to stay in the background yet within reach at the same time. Perhaps out of respect? I don't know but I don't think she deserved that either. She was far more important than that and I've always felt bad about this. Sorry, Jen.

A significant event happened that she was part of and that I often reflect back upon. In fact, I wrote a song about it in the next chapter of my life. Anyway, Eric was working for a local winery and they seemed to have some sort of misunderstanding in which Eric was fired. One afternoon, Eric knocked on my room door and said, "Kid, get ready. We're going on an adventure." We jumped into his old, white pickup truck and scooped up Ernie along with Jen. We then proceeded to the storage warehouse of said local winery somewhere near Canutillo. Eric parked a ways down on a dirt road and instructed us to wait while he and Ernie disappeared towards the warehouse. As the sun began to set, Jen and I observed as Eric and Ernie hobbled towards us with two cases each of wine in their arms. "Start the fuckin' truck, kid!" Eric said and I obliged. We sped off with stolen wine in the bed as a trail of dust followed close behind. "Cheese. That'll teach them!" Eric said, smiling. "I don't give a fuck. They owe me money."

We parked on a back road somewhere off the old highway that leads to Old Mesilla and that courses through flowing canals and farmland. We drank copious amounts of stolen wine - laughing and joking until we thought it was time to head back to the old house. On the way there, the pungent smell of ripening onions filled the air as we passed an onion farm. "Kid, pull over!" I yelled at Eric through the cab window. He did so and I jumped out of the truck and proceeded to pull onions from the Earth. "What are you guys doing?!" I yelled out. "Come and help me! Hurry up!" The rest of the gang proceeded to help me pull bushels and bushels of onions into the bed of the truck. Why, you ask? I have no fricken' idea. However, I remember us sitting at the foot of the dying cotton field that sat adjacent to the house, afterwards, before running through the rows laughing and stumbling through the crops. The irony of it all is that I hate onions. Go figure.

Anyway, back to the band. After our incredible show with Anything Box in Juarez, we met with Alejandro at the radio station shortly after. “I have big plans for L.I.M., my friends,” Alejandro said through Carlos. “I’m organizing a tour for the band throughout Mexico.” We all looked at each other in awe. “What are we talking about here, exactly?” Hook asked Alejandro. “I have many friends with nightclubs all over Mexico like, Puerto Vallarta, Mazatlán, Cancun, etc. I’ve already called them and they are very interested, especially after your last show. I have many connections with radio stations in those cities as well. It will be heavily promoted too. So, what do you think?” Alejandro said and we all agreed emphatically. “Okay then. I’ll get everything started but I need you all to perform at a very important show, here in Juarez, in a few weeks. Deal?” Hell yeah! We were all in. On the ride home we played out scenarios of us performing at tropical locations where the beautiful Mexican girls swarmed us and fans screamed our name in unison. The next day, I talked to my parents about the potential Mexican tour and they were very skeptical but supportive. That meant so much to me.

We practiced as much as possible in anticipation of the upcoming tour but I noticed something changing within the band. Our egos were swelling and our camaraderie was dissipating. When we once had brotherly energy between us, it was now turning into jealousy and resentment for some reason. George began practicing more often with X-21 and it caused a widening rift between us as the days passed. It especially pissed me off because I felt as if he was betraying the band. After how far we had come and where we were headed, it hurt that he would do that to us. To add insult to injury was the fact that it seemed as if Phillip was taking George’s side. Despite all this, Hook informed us that the important show we were to play in a week, was already sold out due to heavy radio promotion. We should’ve been jumping up and down but, strangely enough, George and Phillip didn’t seem to be too excited about it. This baffled me because we should have all been vibrating with excitement. Because of our inflated egos, we never talked about it and this led to the biggest mistake that a young, budding band could make.

The day of the show came and in the early afternoon, I called the guys to arrange how we were going to get there, etc. They didn’t answer. I kept calling and still no answer. “Have you heard from George or Phillip?” Hook asked me over the phone and sounding worried. “Nope,” I responded. “I don’t think they realize how important this show is to Alejandro. Did something happen between you guys that you’re not telling me about?” Hook asked. “I have no idea, man. I haven’t heard from them either. What should we do?” I responded. “I don’t know. I guess we should just show up at the venue and maybe they’ll meet us there. Let’s just keep trying,” Hook said. The minutes progressed and we were only an hour from the doors opening to the venue. My phone rang and it was Maria. “What the hell is going on, guys? Why aren’t you here already?! There’s a line around the corner for the show!” Maria said, panicking. “Alejandro is pissed off!” I got ready quickly and was about to rush to Juarez but I decided to call Phillip one more time.

I was shocked when the other end of the line finally picked up. “Yeah?” Phillip said, lazily. “What the fuck, man?! Where the fuck are you guys?! The show starts in 45 minutes!” I exclaimed, my face hot with fury. “Oh, yeah, George is here and well, we’re not gonna go. We’re just gonna chill at my place for the night,” Phillip responded, yawning. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?! The place is sold out! There’s a line around the corner already!” I responded. “Yeah, right,” Phillip responded and laughed with George joining him in the background. “Whatever, man. I’ll call you tomorrow,” Phillip said, ending the call. I sat on the couch, dumbfounded and running my hands through my hair. I wanted to call Eva and tell her everything but she didn’t deserve that, especially after what I’d put her through. I felt absolutely helpless. There was nothing I could do to change things. Maria called again and I just looked down at the caller ID and placed my face in my hands. It was over. Our musical career as L.I.M. was over.

As anticipated, Alejandro was livid and canceled the Mexican tour. “I...I just don’t understand what you guys were thinking,” Maria said to me, the next day, crying softly. “You guys were almost there. Almost there, Steve. I just don’t get it. Now you guys are blacklisted in Juarez.” After a few days, Hook managed to get us all together for a meeting at Phillip’s house, in a desperate attempt to salvage the unsalvageable. The atmosphere around us that night was dark and filled with animosity. Ego’s flared and we spat ugly, hateful words at each other. George and I, in particular, really got into it to a point where a physical altercation almost took place. Hook had to intervene. “Fuck you guys!” I spat. “I’m moving to Austin! Fuck L.I.M.!” I got into my car and sped off feeling so absolutely devastated. I’ll admit that I cried that night as I drove along the Franklin mountains knowing that I wouldn’t see them again for a very long time. Knowing that I had lost the most important thing in my life at that time - my friends. We were almost there. We had been on the precipice of stardom but we let our stupid, young egos ruin it for us.

In the weeks that followed, I was in a stupor. I filled my time with making preparations to move to Austin. I just couldn't understand how things within the band had shifted for the worse in such a short amount of time. I instantly missed the camaraderie between us. I missed the elation and epic times we had but it was time to move on to the next chapter in my life. It was time to let go. I packed up my car, said goodbye to my parents and El Paso and headed East to where the next chapter of my life was to begin. That was the second time I was almost famous, my friends, but there would be one more. Stay tuned.

Epilogue

I moved to Austin, shortly after, and L.I.M. reunited for one last show. It was in Austin and we opened up for a washed up version of Information Society. The lead singer was scum and treated us like we were merely gum on the soles of his shoes. Not to mention the various audio issues we encountered throughout the horrible set. George, Phillip and I are still friends but we spar like brothers. Mostly fueled by political differences but I still love those guys and will do so till the day I die. Fairly recently we remotely reunited and recorded a couple of songs (Severed Ties and Transmission: Lost) that actually turned out pretty good before we fought again, ending any further progress. You can listen to all of L.I.M.'s music, past and fairly present, here.

Eva is happily married with one child and lives in San Antonio. We talk briefly from time to time and she’s still a beautiful person. Crystal moved to Austin, when I first did, but moved back to El Paso just as fast. She’s now happily married to a great guy and lives in Las Vegas. She has a daughter that looks exactly like she did back then. Hook and Carlos still live in El Paso but, sadly, I don’t ever communicate with them. Jen is a teacher and lives in San Antonio with her husband and 2 children. As is often the case, I slip into bouts of deep nostalgia and look upon my time with L.I.M. fondly. To this day I still try to get an answer as to why George and Phillip didn’t go to that last show but I never get an answer. Either way, we were all at fault in some way or another and it doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is that I had a great time with great people. Thanks for reading. See you soon.

*Bonus; Memories of Cesar Flores: As the years passed, Cesar and I would sometimes communicate via Facebook. The animosity between us had since dissipated and we became really good friends. I admired his creativity and often shared musical projects I had done with him. Him and Joe Dorgan carried on the legacy of Stepping Out via a successful podcast that me and the guys would listen to weekly. The second to the last time I had seen Cesar was here in Austin. He was in town for the Depeche Mode show and I met him and my friend Katrina in front of the venue. Him and I laughed and took sips of vodka from a Dasani bottle. As luck would have it, I wasn’t able to watch the show but I hugged him and told him to have a good time. The last time I saw Cesar, I was in El Paso to say goodbye to my dying brother. George and Phillip managed to drag me out to a venue that Cesar was playing a DJ set at (pic below). He was so excited to see us and we all took shots together and listened to songs that we requested. Although we had a great time, there was an impending sense of gloom surrounding us that night. We took a pic that night and you’ll find it below. Six months later, Cesar passed away suddenly. I miss you, brotha, but your music and memories live on. Until we meet again.

P.S. I'm a novelist and have just completed my novel, The Ravishing Riptides of Time that is centered in El Paso and New Mexico. If you're curious about it, you can read it here. Thanks again!