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“I felt like a piece of meat that someone had thrown to the dogs. The New York Times printed quacky interpretations of my songs. Esquire magazine put a four-faced monster on their cover, my face along with Malcom X’s, Kennedy’s and Castro’s. What the hell was that supposed to mean? It was like I was on the edge of the earth.”
“I had all the technic**al theory I would need. My audience would stop being a shady army of faceless people. Of course, some of them would still only concentrate on the lyrics and they might be dismayed because of the two-beat strum they’d been used to for so long would now be off** rhythm, refocused and rushing the songs into the heart of unimagined territory. But that’s okay, they could handle it.” (about Oh Mercy)