Fame Puts You There Where Things Are

Fame Can Take Interesting Men And Thrust Mediocrity Upon Them.

1961 Was When I Was Really Into Clothes. I Left School At 15 And Started Copying A Bloke Who Used To Go Up On The Train To London With Me; Leslie, I Think His Name Was. He Was Like, Top Mod Of His Own Area. He Wore Italian Jackets With White Linen Jeans. Boy, Was That Cool! I Mean, That's In Style Now - It's Very Much The L.a. Look. But He Was Wearing It Then, And It Looked Supercool.

I Think A Lot Of That Album ["tonight" ] Is Still Very Good . . . The Songs, But I Think I Was Indifferent To The Arrangements.

It Always Felt Like You Were Trying Too Hard To Look Like The Audience Or Something. That Whole Thing About The Artistic Integrity, Which, Of Course, I've Never Bought Into - With Any Artist. It's Just Not A Real Thing.

I'm A Phallus In Pigtails, And There's Blood On My Nose, And My Tissue Is Rotting Where The Rats Chew My Bones. And My Eye Sockets Empty, See Nothing But Pain, I Keep Having This Brainstorm About Twelve Times A Day.