For a while, I felt a little self-impelled to write Lou Reed Kind of songs. I should have understood that a Lou Reed song was anything I wanted to write about.
Bodily changes take place, like the thing with the kick.
An eye for an eye is elemental.
I love Ornette Coleman. I love Don Cherry. I love the way those guys play.
When the past makes you laugh and you can savor the magic that lets you survive your own war, you’ll find that that fire is passion and there’s a door up ahead – not a wall.
Does anyone need yet another politician caught with his pants down and money sticking in his hole?
Me, I’ve concentrated on music pretty much to the exclusion of other things.
Music should come crashing out of your speakers and grab you, and the lyrics should challenge whatever preconceived notions that listener has.
Music was what bothered me, what interested me.
Perfect Night has that magic and it has the raw energy that grabs you by the throat.
The music business doesn’t interest me anymore.
When I record an album I’m trying to get as close as possible to that perfect moment.
You can’t ask me to explain the lyrics because I won’t do it.
Meditation doesn’t have to be complicated. What I do is about as simple as you can get. You could just count the beads, one, two, three, with your eyes closed or open, whatever makes you happy.
I have no control over the audience. I have no idea what they think. My heart’s pure. I can’t do anything. I really can’t do anything. I don’t know what goes on in the crowd.
I wanted to be an actor. That was my real goal. But I wasn’t any good at it, so I wrote my own material and acted through that. That’s my idea of fun. I get to be all these things in the songs.
I was a product of Andy Warhol’s Factory. All I did was sit there and observe these incredibly talented and creative people who were continually making art, and it was impossible not to be affected by that.
I’m writing about real things. Real people. Real characters. You have to believe what I write about is true or you wouldn’t pay any attention at all. Sometimes it’s me, or a composite of me and other people. Sometimes it’s not me at all.
When I was in college, I had a jazz radio show. I called it ‘Excursion on a Wobbly Rail,’ after a Cecil Taylor song. I used to run around the Village following Ornette Coleman wherever he played.
I’ve never been super confident about anything. The work is never as good as it could be.