I wouldn't go so far as to say that over the years I drove producers and engineers a little crazy, but... well... Yeah, let's say I did. I'd watch every little thing with an eagle eye, trying to understand and remember every flick of a switch, leaping on people if they forgot to do the smallest thing, demanding explanations for everything. I couldn't help myself, and I've always been the same. It's partly a matter of control, partly (depending on who we'd be working with) a lack of trust, but most important, it's a compulsion to exhaust every possibility to make the perfect record. I don't want to have to live with errors. Impossible, I know, but what's the effin' point of not shooting for the moon?

Here we are in our finery, playing at the venerable Gasworks. Deep in the throes of glam, we’d change into our sequins and studs in a tiny dressing area situated beneath a restroom, which more than once leaked through the ceiling, forcing us to go onstage redolent of urine.

I was a fan of guys with a higher range like Steve Marriott in the Small Faces and Humble Pie. (Humble Pie’s Performance: Rockin’ the Fillmore would be a hugely influential