When you hear an instrumental song someone is singing over, you know right away it’s wrong.
Relax. Be yourself. Play a lot.
There’s a fine line between giving the sense of freedom and being too free.
I assume most guitar players are like me. They’re playing, having fun; then they get a magazine in the mail that says “Shred Is Dead” and they say, “What the Hell?” They throw it away and keep on playing.
Eee-nee-mee-nee-my-nee-moe.
My inspirations don’t come from outer space, they just come to me. I have no idea why they come when they do.
It really sucks when music is so perfect you just don’t need to hear it anymore.
I see something in her eyes, sends me to a better place.
When you hear something you don’t like, don’t ever play it again.
Song ideas have come to me in the middle of interviews, in the shower, or while I’m writing another song.
I’ve always done ‘the wrong thing’ and had a pretty wonderful time doing it.
18th September, 1970; Jimi Hendrix dies. I’m still on the football team when I get the news. So I take my helmet off and confront the coach to tell him I’m quitting the team. In a moment of brilliance he gives me one look and says “OK”.
I write the songs first and in most cases teach myself the technique second.
Basic anatomy. That has got to be the ongoing frustration: Why can’t my fingers do what I want them to do? Not being able to play what I hear in my head – that is the ultimate source of frustration.
I started learning to sing what I liked, to experience it in a visceral way. Then it’s inside. Get rid of the neurosis and then you can improvise.
It’s funny how you can struggle with one piece and write a better one in a minute. When things come easy, it means it’s good.
Satriani’s Law: There’s at least a 30% chance that someone will print the name Satriani incorrectly.
I pride myself on being incorrigible. I have a very hard time being told what to do.
When I want to play music, you’ve got to get me on tape or else it goes.
I’m ready to take the heat.