We are stardust, we are golden and we've got to get ourselves back to the garden.

We call for the three great stimulants of the exhausted ones, artifice, brutality, and innocence.

Once I got the open tunings for some reason, I began to get the harmonic sophistication that I heard that my musical fountain inside was excited by. Once I got some interesting chords to play with, my writing began to come.

I am as constant as a northern star

All romantics meet the same fate some day. Drunk and cynical and boring someone in some dark cafe.

I come from pioneer stock, developers of the West, people who went out into the wilderness and set up home with nothing but a pair of oxen.

I try not to steal from myself, but the modalities create similarities.