Chris Barron

Musician, Spin Doctors

Chris Barron is the frontman and founding member of the multi-platinum, alternative rock band Spin Doctors.  Their 1991 debut "Pocket Full of Kryptonite" spawned the massive radio hits "Two Princes," and "Little Miss Can't Be Wrong."  The record reached number 3 on the Billboard Top 200 chart and sold over 5 million albums.  Following the release of their 1999 album "Here Comes The Bride," Chris lost his voice due to a rare form of vocal cord paralysis that left him unable to speak above a whisper and was told he had a 50-50 chance of ever speaking or singing normally again.  Fortunately, in late 2000 his voice started to improve and he has since made a full recovery, releasing two more studio albums with the band as well as his solo debut in 2009.   While the Spin Doctors are still very much an active entity, Chris recently released his new, 11-song solo album Angels and One-Armed Jugglers.  While speaking with Billboard Magazine, he said "I'm a very prolific songwriter and I have this gigantic backlog of eclectic songs that would never necessarily work for the Spin Doctors.  I wanted to make a solo record for a really long time, just as a creative outlet. So here it is."  In their 8 out of 10 star review, Glide Magazine stated "His commendable project is both expressive and visionary in its wide scope."  This is Chris Barron's Fidelity High:  The Rolling Stones // Exile on Main St. // Rolling Stones Records // 1972.  Chris says, "Mark was the guitarist of my first rock band, The Dead Alcoholics With Boners. He wore lipstick that used to get on his crooked, leering teeth and spoke in a weezy, beatnik, drawl. He took me up to Joy’s room in Canfield House at Bennington College in Vermont and played me Muddy Waters’ Can’t Be Satisfied and I was mesmerized, struck dumb by the menace of the siren slide guitar, slithering backward down the frets and the chilling threat of the lyric. It sounded like graveyards and old hubcaps of getaway cars. Then he played me Sweet Virginia from Exile On Main Street. “You’ve never heard Exile, Chrissy?” (He called me Chrissy) That bordello mouth harp hit me like dishwater, bourbon and bikini bottoms. The melancholic stride of the lead acoustic still makes me want to get drunk when I hear it. The woozy logic of the words cracked opened a scripture on the sweetness of badness that would rule my unruliness forever after and began a love affair with Exile On Main Street that I will take to my grave. It’s the treasure map of that Rock ‘N’ Roll, falling down the stairs but cool; fuck you, I’m a genius; loosy-goosey, shoot from the hip.... thing. I always tell people. Exile isn’t an album. It’s a religion."













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