Until you learn to play what you want to hear, you're barking up the wrong tree.

My mom took my sister and me to see Elvis [Presley] in concert when was, maybe 5 or 6, and I liked everything about it.

In 1950, the biggest amp you could get was no bigger than a tabletop radio.

They prospect of seeing oneself in the mirror clean-shaven is too close to a Vincent Price film... a prospect not to be contemplated, no matter the compensation.

White people get nervous and speed things up. You don't have to be in a hurry because you ain't got nothing to gain and you ain't got nothin' to lose. And that's where the groove lies.

The rawness and the richness of music on vinyl almost went away, but it still seems to be on a lot of people’s radar, and for good reason. It does something different than more accessible means of music playing, like MP3 players and downloads and whatnot. You get in front of these archaic contraptions that go ’round and ’round.

When I was around 7 or 8 my Dad took me to a B.B. King recording session, well, that really did it. Huge and lasting impressions. After all that I pretty much knew playing guitar was something I was going to do because I just had to do it. And I did.