When I started in this business, rock and roll was defined like this… Two Jews and a guinea recording four schvartzes on a single track. Now it’s changed so much, it’s not even recognizable as the thing people used to be so afraid of.
What, reunion? Good luck with that. People get divorced for a reason.
We’re all bleeding on the inside.
This is what happens when a label picks you up. We groom you, we work with you, we turn you into something that might actually have a life.
There’s more than one way to be dead, Pop.
There’s luck and there’s pressing your luck.
The bigger they are, the worse it gets.
Screaming your heart out into a mike, it ain’t cheap anymore, okay? And if you don’t have 800 grand in the bank, truth in sound, it ain’t available.
Okay, look at me. I love you. Nonetheless, you don’t pick a guy in the next five minutes, I’m gonna rip your head off your neck and put my own f*****g guitarist on top of it.
Less artists means less need to kiss the asses of those artists.
If you ever talk to me like that again, I’ll slap you so hard you’ll be singing out of your a**hole.
I’d offer you a drink, but you’re an a**hole.