Honoring Kevin Daly: The local music legend has died

(Editor’s note: To call Kevin Daly ‘beloved’ is an understatement, considering the positive effect he had on so many people who connected with him, not only through music, but in various walks of life. Mentioning his name often elicited a response that included ways he had helped someone, ranging from providing music lessons to assisting with life’s deeper challenges. If you are reading this on social media, please share your memories and stories of this treasured stalwart, whose quick quips and slick riffs were all propelled by a kind, kind heart.)

When the news hit on Thanksgiving that Kevin Daly had died after a long battle with brain cancer, it spread across the internet and through the text chains of local musicians like wildfire.

Perhaps more like “Hellfire,” which was the first band of Daly’s that I kind of called my own when I first saw them in 1985. Hellfire was a blaze of psychobilly-ish cow punk that had all those mean, nasty intangibles I needed at that time in my life. My first impression of Daly was that he might be an untouchable rockstar, and I probably would have wilted if he had made eye contact with me. He was that cool.

As cool as Daly was, he was also soft spoken, at times, and had a wicked sense of humor, too. He was a master at knowing the right thing to say at the right moment when a microphone was in front of him or standing among a group of friends. When you play in bands for as long as Daly did in this town, it’s easy to see why he became a local legend. 

The outpouring of love and respect that has flooded social media from Daly’s peers says the most about him. In thirty-plus years of knowing him and sharing stages, I never heard anyone say a bad thing about him or any of the bands he was in. Never. If you’re a local musician or friends with one, you know how rare that is. There is always someone who likes to talk a little shit about somebody or some band, but there was no shit talking about Kevin Daly, nor will there ever be. 

He was the real deal. 

Over recent years, as Daly battled that stupid fucking disease, his absence has been intensely felt by friends, fans, and the music scene as a whole. He was the type of guy that when he showed up at a show, you heard the whispers. “That’s Kevin Daly,” or “Even Kevin came out.” He carried a certain weight as an elder statesman who had mastered multiple genres, but that weight was eclipsed by his immense talent. 

If you were fortunate enough to see one of his many killer bands, you know that he was an excellent guitarist and songwriter. Seeing Hellfire at the Mason Jar was highly influential to me. Within a week, I snagged their cassette-only release from those early ‘80s days, and I wore that fucker out. For a good long while, I would tell anyone who would listen that Helflire was the local band to see, and what did they do? They promptly broke up. 

I was too young to see The Hoods, but another local legend, Steve Davis, told me some great stories about early shows featuring The Hoods and Davis’s band, The Shivers. I loved hearing the stories of those days while drinking coffee with Davis, and he had the greatest admiration for Daly. 

After The Hoods, Daly played guitar in Grant & the Geezers with longtime musical collaborator, the late Chuck Holder, on bass. The Geezers, as they were affectionately known, put Phoenix on the rockabilly/psychobilly map and even made it across the pond for a tour of England in 1982. Most recently, the band reunited in 2014 for a one-off show at the now-defunct Third Space. 

Seeing Daly at that show was something special for many of us who did not get to see Grant & the Geezers in the early ’80s. Despite a few hiccups to start the set, the four-piece cranked out a memorable show, and no one had a bigger smile that night than Daly.

Daly had a great sense of rockabilly style and looked like a dude right out of a hot rod magazine from the 1950s. He loved all that stuff, too, but I’ll remember him most for his love of making music. He was a tireless supporter of the local scene and a mentor to so many musicians.  

Many local music fans will remember another great band of Daly’s: Grave Danger. Out of all of Daly’s bands, Grave Danger was probably his longest-running enterprise. I can only imagine how his Grave Danger bandmates are feeling right now. 

Heck, I can’t imagine how any of his former bandmates feel right now, to be honest. If there was one thing you always heard about Daly, it was what a great dude he was to make music with. Personally, I never got to jam with him, but our bands shared several bills over the years, and he was always humble and kind. 

In fact, as a musician in Phoenix who grew up thinking he was one of the coolest people on the scene, it was a huge treat to have him treat me as a peer. Daly was supportive of so many local musicians over the years that my story is a drop in the bucket. Even though we didn’t know each other well, Daly was always quick to say hello, check in on how things were going, and offer an encouraging word about whatever tunes I was making. 

As I sit here thinking of those days in the 2000s and 2010s, I can’t help but remember how great Grave Danger was. I also really like the Trophy Husbands, but I only saw them a few times during the early 2000s run.

That’s the thing, though. Everything Daly did was good. He wrote great songs, was a kickass guitar player and singer, and was just a genuine dude. 

Most recently, Daly was doing Kevin Daly’s Chicken and Waffles, which was another top-notch band. I know I’m missing projects right and left here, too, but the guy was prolific. Daly was the real deal, too. It seems that many artists who used to play heavier music have found their way to more rootsy material, but Daly was always able to play rootsy music with an incendiary attitude and a dollop of punk rock flavor. 

He was a silver fox with an onstage attitude and a humble heart that didn’t need the spotlight when he was offstage, and I loved him.

I know the town is hurting right now. I’m sad that I’ll never get to see him again, and I know I am joined in that feeling by hundreds of peers and thousands of fans.

We will miss you, Kevin Daly. Here’s to hotrods and even hotter guitars in the afterlife.