A cultural breakthrough. Rolling Stone cover. Thirteen rehab stints in three years. This is the 1996–1997 run behind Tiny Music.The guys—Robert, Dean, Eric—knew I was hurting. “We’re your brothers,” they said. “Just tell us what’s happening. We don’t want to hear about it in the papers. We want you to come to us first.”Brotherhood. Solidarity. Money on the line. We had a million dollars lined up for a gig in Anchorage and two in Hawaii. After we played Jay Leno’s Tonight Show, I gathered up my courage and talked to Dean, Robert, and Eric, man to man.“Okay, guys,” I said. “I’ll level with you. I’ve been chipping. But I have enough meds to get me through these gigs. And I’ll bring a sober guy along with me, at my expense, to make sure I stay straight.”Next thing I know, my own Stoned Brother Pilots call a press conference and cancel the gigs, telling the world, in essence, that because of their junkie lead singer, the tour can’t go on.It was a vicious move, even more so when “our”
