I first “met” Paul on Facebook. He liked my posts. I appreciated his good taste. A long time later I realized I had been corresponding with THAT Paul Leahy.
Later, watching him at LanaLou’s, I felt like I had stumbled upon a teenager's bedroom and was watching a boy prance around with a hairbrush. He had a lanky frame. His head tilted down and he looked back in a shy awkward way. He adjusted one amp, then his mic, then another amp, adjusted his peaked hat. He seemed painfully self-conscious. He blew through his lips, turned back to Eric Lowe and David Charan his band mates. He rocked back on his foot, made another adjustment, struck a chord and then BLAM, lightning. Seemingly from nowhere, Paul Leahy glam god appeared! It was then that you saw the lithe black-clad creature with the sloe eyes peering out from under his commander cap as he made Swarovski Crystal out of Bowie’s Diamond Dogs.
In Vancouver, I think it is agreed that no one does Dogs any better. He is glam, he is hot, he is cool, he is a family man and a gentleman. THAT is PAUL LEAHY.
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