I love the world, but the world doesn’t love me, or at the very least, they misunderstood me. I never wanted to cause harm, but I usually don’t have any choice in the matter, due that I bring my work out in front of the public, yet, I’m met with indifference, or at the very least, ridicule. I’ve been laughed at ever since I was a child, and it got worse when I turned into a teenager. The rejection of my father’s death and going through a painful teenage era left me scarred, but I have become a stronger person - even a more vital artist from that pain. I try to bring beauty to the world in my fashion, but somehow it always turns into disgust.
I made the perfect album in the late 1950s with my pals, Marshall Leib and Annette Kleinbard. I wrote many songs but also played guitar and sang back up. At the time, I was going through a lot of emotional pain, but the album best expressed the times I lived in. Sadly, the album didn’t sell, but I did have a song that became a hit, with a stunning vocal from Annette. Yet, I decided being in a band or the artist was the loser’s position when you could work in the backroom, and therefore be able to have a vision of the world that is out there.
The thing is, you can place yourself anywhere you want on the record, but you never escape from yourself. I’m always walking alone on the darkest side of the street. If I had the choice, I would bring nothing but joy to the world, but something fucks up for me, and I don’t understand why the world is so hostile towards me. I can’t go on to lose the one I hold so dear, which is my audience. “I’m dealing in rock ’n’ roll. I’m, like, I’m not a bona fide human being. ”
I went to Tosh’s dad’s art opening, and I remember finding myself in a crowd of fools. I started to speak to Tosh, and then Tosh said to me, “I’m not Tosh, but I can bring you to Tosh.” I told him to bring him over here. Tosh came to me and said, “Hey man, how are you doing?” I told him, “How do I know you’re Tosh?” It bugged me when people gave me shit, especially in public. I feel that they are going out of their way to embarrass me. I had my bodyguard with me, and I went up to people I didn’t know and told them I could just snap my fingers and have them beaten up. I positioned my thumb over my shoulder and told them, “See that guy there, all I have to do is snap my fingers, “ and you’re through, man.”
I don’t even know why I react that way. It just built up in me, and I finally couldn’t take it anymore. I want to punch all of them in their faces, but that is my peculiar version of a kiss. It’s a sign of love, and yeah, even if I throw the cripple down the stairs, I’m going to come out as a winner. You know I’m a cripple inside, and "no one in the family is safe when I sashay."