Wayne Kramer, according Rolling Stone, is one of the top 100 guitarists in the world. Heck, Activision featured him in their Guitar Hero: World Tour video game. Starting in 1967 with the politically active MC5—aside from being Detroit’s most ripping proto-punk band, they were co-founders of the White Panthers—Kramer has been longstanding intermediate on the divide between music and politics, driving his involvement in the U.S. branch of Jail Guitar Doors, Billy Bragg’s initiative to provide new guitars to prisoners willing to find rehabilitation in music.

After MC5 disbanded, Kramer went into a tailspin, culminating in a three-year stint in a Kentucky “Narcotic Farm” prison (1976-78). There, he met Red Rodney, a member of the Charlie Parker Quintet, who took him under his wing, and Kramer found that music helped him rehabilitate into the world. Nowadays, Kramer is a career musician with 11 solo albums, scores to several films, television programs, and theme songs to his credit, but much of his time is devoted to Jail Guitar Doors.


Recently, Kramer made two trips to the California State Prison in Lancaster. One trip was to support Honor Yard, a program that inmates have organized themselves, eschewing gangs and drug use in exchange for the ability to study and play music, despite the prison’s shoddy equipment. Then, at the beginning of July, Kramer went with a cadre of musicians to perform for the prisoners, a project that was a few years in the making due to budget restraints—the prison couldn’t afford overtime for guards. GOOD chatted with Kramer about the state of the penal system, and what we can do to change it.

GOOD: Did you get blisters on your fingers from that solo for ‘Kick Out the Jams’?

WAYNE KRAMER: Not on the left hand, but on the right hand.

GOOD: You spent time at the Federal Correctional Institution at Lexington for dealing cocaine. You’ve said, “I wasn’t in prison when I was playing,” because you were in the clouds of bars and chord changes and melodies and rhythms. Do you still get transported when you’re playing?

KRAMER: I do. Playing music is one of the most CPU-intensive activities that humans do, way more than language or any physical activity, because music is so complex. First, you have to be conscious of what you’re playing, and what you’re going to be playing in a few seconds, and the timbre of your instrument, the chord progression, the melody, the harmony. You have to consider the other musicians. What are they playing? Your brain is processing how you’re interacting with them. And if you’re singing, you have to deal with the lyric, the timbre of your voice, the melody. There is nothing else in human experience that uses up that much brainpower.

GOOD: I agree that it’s really complex—I tried to play guitar when I was a kid and failed miserably. You had access to guitars when you were in prison. Did you find that there was less access in today’s prison system?

KRAMER: Without a doubt, but with some exceptions. In general, for the last 30 years, the focus in American corrections has been on punitive incapacitation, not on rehabilitation. When I arrived at the FCI at Lexington, the focus was on rehabilitation. The staff encouraged you to get involved in all the programs that they made available, things like RBT (Rational Behavior Training), or PMA (Positive Mental Attitude), or Transactional Analysis (they were featuring Dr. Berne’s ‘I’m OK, You’re OK’ as a therapeutic mode for insight into our anti-social behavior), encounter groups, group therapy, and college courses. I saw the programs go away during my almost three years at this facility. When I left, the place was filled with bunk beds in the hallways because of the escalating ‘war on drugs.’

If we don’t try to help someone to improve themselves while we have them, then we’re jeopardizing our own safety. If your car breaks down, you don’t beat your car; you fix your car. Maybe we could try that with human beings? The trouble is, they’ve spent all the money on building more/bigger/secure prisons, that they can’t afford rehabilitative programs. California’s prisons were at one point 200 percent over capacity. The courts have ordered them to lower it down to 110 percent, but they haven’t met that standard yet.

GOOD: You presumably see the prison system as completely messed up beyond repair.

KRAMER: People who deal with prisoners day in and day out understand that these are human beings, and that 95 percent of them will be released one day. There’s an institutional status quo that has to be fought against. There’s a component in the American psyche that is looking for revenge and retribution. It’s ugly. I’m not saying people shouldn’t be held accountable. I believe in the rule of law, but I don’t disagree with my brothers and sisters of Critical Resistance [an international movement that opposes prisons] that there probably is a better idea than prison.

GOOD: The penal system has fallen off the political radar. Why is it something you’ve glommed to?

KRAMER: Right now, there’s about 12 million ex-offenders alive in America, most of whom are disenfranchised, who cannot participate in the political process, who are barred from many jobs and licenses. It’s hard enough finding a job in the first place, let alone after being branded a convicted felon—who has paid his or her price—and continues to be segregated outside the mainstream.

GOOD: Music is one of the only fields that doesn’t discriminate against ex-convicts. You can really make your own way, and possibly even market yourself as the rehabilitated ex-convict.

KRAMER: I don’t disagree with you. But of all the careers that I would recommend to someone, there are many things that have fewer stumbling blocks than professional musician. Generally, most professional musicians do something else to supplement their income, because there are so many really accomplished musicians and so few jobs available. The idea of becoming rich and famous, I put the odds, realistically as 100,000 to one. Just about the same as your chances of becoming a wealthy professional athlete.

GOOD: What’s the best song you’ve heard come from a prisoner?

KRAMER: At the Northern Nevada Correctional Complex, they’ve got a program there for geriatric prisoners called ‘True Grit.’ True Grit has about nine bands on their yard, and one of the bands is a country band, and this fellow got up there and he sang this song he wrote called ‘Bottles and Cans’ about being a homeless guy, and how his life was reduced to collecting bottles and cans.

GOOD: How can musicians get involved with Jail Guitar Doors?

KRAMER: A local band that wanted to be of service could organize a benefit at a club in their district, get their friends in bands to all come and play, raise some money, buy their own guitars, and take them into their own local prisons where their friends and family are serving time. We can help with how to deal with authorities, how to buy the guitars, and we can give them key art.

GOOD: I’m sure some of the newer guitar players get blisters on their fingers. How do you tell them to get through it?

KRAMER: They actually go away after awhile. The nerve ends in your fingers adapt finally.

  • During one of Peter Gabriel’s final Genesis shows, a roadie got naked for one amazing prank
    A roadie got naked for a hilarious prank during one of Peter Gabriel's final shows with Genesis. Photo credit: Unknown photographer via Wikimedia Commons, Creative Commons Zero, Public Domain Dedication, cropped (left) / Canva (Africa images), cropped (right)

    The 1974 Genesis double-LP, The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway, is one of the most ambitious (and, to some, inscrutable) concept albums in rock history, following a character named Rael along a cosmic journey through the shadowy New York City streets, elaborate chambers of 32 doors, surreal cages filled with stalactites and stalagmites, underground rivers, and caves with spooky creatures. It was like a proggy Pilgrim’s Progress as envisioned by Alejandro Jodorowsky.

    When it came time to translate that vision to the concert stage, Genesis made a risky choice: debuting the entire 94-minute saga, front to back, with large chunks of the audience likely unfamiliar with the songs. (The first date of the tour, November 20, 1974 in Chicago, occurred two days before The Lamb hit stores.) The visual side of the project was as trippy as the lyrics, including scene-setting projections and a number of bizarre costumes for front man Peter Gabriel—like one particularly grotesque monstrosity, The Slipperman, that drummer Phil Collins later called an “inflatable dick.” (“It was all very Spinal Tap,” he said in an interview for the album’s 2007 reissue.) 

    If you ever wanted to appear naked onstage, this was probably the perfect time to do it—and one of the band’s roadies pulled off that hilarious prank as the tour neared its end. The silliness was especially notable, given the brooding atmosphere within Genesis—Gabriel, feeling constrained by the band’s schedule and eager to stretch his wings, had already informed his bandmates that he planned to leave following the Lamb tour. Perhaps the roadie, whom the band recalls being Geoff Banks, was attempting to add some levity. What we do know is that he made his nude cameo during one of the final shows, building on the suspense from a visual trick.

    “There was a point in The Lamb where Rael sort of splits, and we did that on stage,” Gabriel told filmmaker John Edginton in a full-band documentary interview. “I would be in the Rael outfit, and there was a dummy on the other side in exactly the same outfit. There wasn’t a lot of lighting, so it would explode, and you wouldn’t know [which was which]…Of course, for the crew, as we approached for the end of things—first of all, [Rael’s] jeans would have their flies undone with a banana hanging out. Gradually, they’d have more and more fun…”

    Keyboardist Tony Banks also talked about this infamous moment in a passage from the 2007 book Genesis: Chapter and Verse. “No one apart from the group, and the immediate circle of the group, knew that Pete was leaving and that this could well be our last tour ever,” he said. “And the roadies always had to have some fun. There was this moment in the show where Pete would be on one side of the stage with a dummy on the other side, and the strobe lights would flash on them so you couldn’t tell which was which. And, of course, for one of the last shows, one of the roadies got up there naked on the other side and took up the pose in place of the dummy…There were people watching this, my wife, for instance, practically in tears because they thought that it might be all over for Genesis, and we had a naked roadie on stage[—]was this how it was all going to end?”

    But all’s well that ends well, and Genesis managed to carry on after Gabriel’s departure by upgrading Collins to the dual role of drummer-singer. In a testament to their continued friendship, Genesis even reunited with their old singer in 1982 to help him escape mounting debts. 

    This article originally appeared last year. It has been updated.

  • 41 years ago Bono’s Live Aid stage antics ended up saving a female fan from being crushed
    U2 singer Bono embraces a fan pulled out of the crowd during the band's 1985 performance at Live Aid. Photo credit: Screenshot from YouTube / @LiveAid

    By July 13, 1985, U2 was a massively popular rock band: riding the wave of two successive chart-topping U.K. albums (War and The Unforgettable Fire), even being anointed the “Band of the ’80s” in a Rolling Stone cover story. But their definitive moment of that year was a performance at Live Aid, a benefit for Ethiopian famine relief staged before 72,000 at London’s Wembley Stadium and broadcast to well over 1 billion TV viewers. They were already larger than life, but now they had the perfect venue and grandiose crowd interaction to showcase it.

    Their short set featured a 12-minute version of their atmospheric 1984 song “Bad,” which they stretched out to include some quotes from The Rolling Stones’ “Ruby Tuesday” and, more famously, to accommodate the stage maneuvering of front man Bono. Halfway through the track, the singer gestured to the audience with a “come on”-type motion, eventually requesting a few female audience members be lifted out of the crowd by security.

    According to some accounts, including viral social media posts, this was some kind of “rescue” attempt, and while it’s unclear precisely why Bono took action, the story has become a staple of the U2 canon.

    In the above clip, you’ll see two fans guided to the apron area in front of the stage, where Bono briefly embraces them. But the most notable moment is when he jumps into the muddy area by the barricade, asking security to hoist over a teenager, with whom he slow-dances and offers a kiss on the cheek. Cameras, of course, caught the whole thing. Bono was a showman from day one, after all.

    Over the years, there’s been a lot of debate and discussion about this Bono-meets-fan moment. In a detailed breakdown of the performance, Rolling Stone reports that the third fan was 15-year-old Kal Khalique. Someone by that name shared their Live Aid memories with the BBC, writing that they weren’t even at the show to see U2: “My sister and I were desperate to see Wham!, so we had made it down to the front of the stage. Half way through the day U2 came on suddenly Bono was pointing to me in the crowd and after a [number] of other girls were pulled out, he finally jumped down and got the security guys to pull me out and danced and hugged me, and I even got a kiss. I’ve been a huge U2 fan ever since.”

    In 2011, The Guardian cited an article by The Sun, who apparently tracked down Khalique. “The crowd surged,” she reportedly claimed, “and I was suffocating—then I saw Bono.” But The Guardian also notes that Bono “had long made a habit of pulling girls out of the audience and dancing with them.” Was this just another example, only amplified by the drama of a hungry rock band playing the biggest stage imaginable? 

    Reasoning aside, it’s the kind of larger-than-life moment that came to define U2. It also happened at an ideal time, just ahead of their next album, 1987’s The Joshua Tree, a critically acclaimed and multi-platinum blockbuster that topped the Billboard 200 and spawned some of the bands most enduring singles, including “When the Streets Have No Name,” “With or Without You,” and “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For.”

    Live Aid also spawned one of rock’s most celebrated performances ever: Queen’s triumphant eight-track set featuring anthems like “We Are the Champions,” “Radio Ga Ga,” and “Crazy Little Thing Called Love.” That show was even etched into film history with an exacting recreation in the 2018 Freddie Mercury biopic Bohemian Rhapsody

    This article originally appeared last year. It has been updated.

  • Catherine O’Hara’s tear-jerking eulogy for John Candy was a master class in memorializing a true friend
    ,

    Catherine O’Hara’s tear-jerking eulogy for John Candy was a master class in memorializing a true friend

    Now that O’Hara has also passed, the beautiful words she spoke for Candy resonate in a new and painful way.

    The comedy world lost two of its great lights decades apart. John Candy in 1994, and Catherine O’Hara on January 30, 2026. But O’Hara left something behind from that first loss: a nine-minute eulogy that remains one of the most moving tributes one friend has ever paid another.

    Candy was the big-hearted comic-actor best known for his string of charismatic film roles in the 1980s and early 1990s, from Stripes to Planes, Trains, and Automobiles to Uncle Buck. He died at just 43 in 1994, following a heart attack. O’Hara, his close friend and collaborator from SCTV, Second City Toronto, and Home Alone, delivered the eulogy at his memorial service in Toronto, and in nine minutes she managed to capture everything that made him irreplaceable.

    She opened the beautiful eulogy by summarizing all of the ways he “enriched” other people’s worlds, including so many small acts of kindness.

    “I know you all have a story,” she says in the clip. “You asked him for his autograph, and he stopped to ask you about you. You auditioned for Second City, and John watched you smiling, laughing. And though you didn’t get the job, you did get to walk away thinking, ‘What do they know? John Candy thinks I’m funny.’ You walked behind John to communion. You carried his bags up to his hotel room, and he said, ‘Hey, that’s too heavy. Let me get that for you.’ And then he tipped you. Or was that a day’s pay?…you caught a John Candy scene on TV one night, right when you needed to laugh more than anything in the world.” 

    Meeting John Candy

    O’Hara also shares her own story of meeting Candy in 1974, when he was director of the Second City touring company.

    “When I joined him in the main cast, he drove us all the way to Chicago to play their Second City stage,” O’Hara recalls. “And I had a crush on him, of course, but he was deeply in love with [his wife, Rosemary]. So I got to be his friend, and I closed the Chicago bars with him, just to be with him. We did SCTV together. When we all tried to come up with opening credits that would somehow tell the audience exactly what we were trying with the show to say about TV, it was John who said, ‘Why don’t we just throw a bunch of TVs off a building?’”

    The whole eulogy is filled with lovely details, as O’Hara reflects on Candy’s graciousness, his collaborative spirit, and the overall sparkle of his comedy.

    “His movies are a safe haven for those of us who get overwhelmed by the sadness and troubles of this world,” she says. “As if he knew he’d be leaving us soon, John left us a library of fun to remember him by.”

    And she ends with a moving note to illustrate their closeness: “God bless, dear John, our patron saint of laughter. God bless and keep his soul. I will miss him. But I hope and pray to leave this world too some day and to have a place near God—as near as any other soul, with the exception of John Candy.” 

    The Candy legacy

    After the eulogy video resurfaced on Reddit, dozens of fans shared their emotions.

    “I was eight years old when he passed, and to this day no celebrity death has ever hit me harder,” one user wrote. “How could such a bright light be gone so early? She’s right, his films are a safe haven for the soft-hearted. RIP.” Another added, “John Candy died over 30 years ago, but it still stings like it was yesterday. He left such an incredible and rare cultural mark.”

    Candy was also the subject of the 2025 Amazon Prime documentary John Candy: I Like Me, directed by Colin Hanks and produced by Ryan Reynolds, in which O’Hara herself appears alongside other friends and collaborators. Conan O’Brien has talked frequently about how much he loved the SCTV star; he once talked to Howard Stern about his impactful meeting with Candy back in 1984, when O’Brien was a 21-year-old student at Harvard University (and president of the Harvard Lampoon).

    “We ended up hanging out,” O’Brien recalled, “and what I remember most clearly is that he was everything I wanted him to be. He was John Candy.” 

    This article originally appeared last year. It has been updated.

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