Will the wind ever remember the names it has blown in the past? And with its crutch, its old age, and its wisdom, it whispers no this will be the last.

Sometimes music comes across to me just when I am sitting around doing nothing, and then the music makes me think of a few words I might have written.

Hey motor cycle mama, you gonna marry me?

The sweet love between the moon and the deep blue sea.

I'd like to get something together - like a Handel, Bach, Muddy waters, flamenco type of thing. If I could get that sound, I'd be happy

I love Dylan. I only met him once, about three years ago, back at the Kettle of Fish on MacDougal Street. That was before I went to England. I think both of us were pretty drunk at the time, so he probably doesn’t remember it.

I dig Strauss and Wagner, those cats are good...