“If I’m going to sing, I want that baaaad motherfucker Jimmy Curtis on drums.” Now, I could tell you I made that request because your daddy had played on the record and he knew all the songs already. I could tell you that if I was gonna play on the same bill as those dummies, I’d at least score a seriously fat fuck-you check for a Black man. It’s not as if those things would be untrue; it’s not as if I haven’t given those reasons before in every other interview I’ve done about why I chose to go along. But the extra reason was that I was mad at Nev. And I asked for Jimmy, specifically, to mess
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