Lanky, glitter-tinged music promoter Stirling Silver knows about everyone involved in the Detroit rock ’n’ roll. Hell, the ageless one has had his finger on the pulse of Motor City music for decades.
So it’s no surprise that his cozy Indian Village carriage-house apartment is a mind-blowing museum of rock ’n’ roll cool (cool, like Faces-Rod cool, not Jerry Lee cool — Silver ain’t that old.) dating back to a time when Elliott Murphy was the shit. Silver’s walls show framed pics of him sucking wine with a young Iggy (in a Toledo hotel bed!?) and whooping it up with a twentysomething Rod Stewart and Ronnie Lane on old Rod’s birthday. A lovingly ornamented Roxy Music poster (Stranded) dominates one wall and works of Detroit artists hang or lean nearly everywhere. The apartment sports a second-floor porch, just off his bedroom, that’s tailored for summer entertaining, which he excels at.
Silver’s had the killer digs eight years now. “For a bachelor it’s perfect, manageable and small,” Silver says. “It’s a great place to entertain, hang and be inspired by music and memorabilia from across the generations — from the Faces to the Sights or from the Stones to the Go.”
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