"Temple, Texas is very religious. A lot of churches and fast food restaurants. Football is really big in the city. And around 15, I was starting to realize that this type of environment didn’t feel good to me. By then I was into new wave music. There were cultural dividing lines: Metalheads had a thing, country western people had a thing, and the popular kids might have been more into pop-rock. But if you were into Art of Noise, New Order, the Cure, and Depeche Mode, it was a little weird. I had a lot of friends on the soccer team who thought I was queer. But there was a group of people in my high school who knew about these bands. We all dressed a little bit funny and we would catch hell for it. There were fights for sure. If you went to the mall or a party, there was always a chance that someone was going to want to fuck with you. I got in a fight in a classroom when a guy made fun of my Frankie Goes to Hollywood shirt. I took that very personally and knocked him on his ass. And I got sent to the principal for that, and I had to bend over his desk, and he swatted me. A lot of cowboys would call me and my friends “queer bitches.” So we adopted it and started calling each other that. It took some sting out of it. One time, this guy called my friend a “queer bitch,” and my friend licked his hand and wiped it on a cowboy’s truck and said, “Yeah, that’s right—and I got those AIDS.” The cowboy flipped out and drove off. Parade by Prince came out right when I was 15, and I was obsessed with him. I got that album the day it was released. The single “Kiss” had come out before, and the very first time I heard it I was like, “How could there be a better single than this?” It’s just undeniable. That song became what a single was to me—something stripped down, so you could focus on a few key elements that were just perfect. Prince was just the coolest, most creative thing happening. And he could fucking dance. I always thought the coolest job would be to make records, but for a long time I didn’t really think about how I would go about that. I just thought, “Something will happen.” And then I got wise and learned how to play an instrument. When I was 16, a girl I had a crush on left for college, and I borrowed a friend’s acoustic guitar and taught myself to play it as I was recovering/suffering from my first real breakup. I was pretty devastated. I would come home from school every day and just be in my room playing guitar and thinking about her, writing letters, listening to records."

"I got that record from my brother-in-law for Christmas - we have this huge family and so we were picking names from a hat and whoever you got the name of you bought a present for. My brother-in-law was this cool fucking dude who listened to college radio and he got me that first Clash record and I got to see them later that year so I guess it was Christmas 1978. We had the US version, it was just called The Clash with the green cover – you knew that if you were American, 'cos we were like, ""we cant get the real fucking English version"" - I mean they had it on import, but it was so expensive. I don’t know what my musical life would have been like if I didn’t get to see that gig. It was really exotic for that band to come and play Seattle. The whole Seattle community was there and it was probably only 200 people but it felt like everybody in the world was there. I remember there was this wooden barrier and this security guy in front of the pit who didn’t know how to deal with a punk rock audience, and he just decked this kid and broke his nose and The Clash just stopped the gig. And Paul Simonon or someone grabbed an axe and broke down the barrier! And I remember Joe Strummer saying, ""there’s no difference between us and you guys, these barriers and shit are separating us"", and it suddenly dawned on me. They were totally against the whole rock star thing, like there’s not us and there’s you, it was like we were all in this together. I guess I’d be lying if I said in the nineties I didn’t have… not ‘punk rock guilt’ exactly, but there would be a lot of bands that came up, like Soundgarden and Pearl Jam, there were guys who were in the punk rock scene and this was what was next, and as a young dude you feel a little guilty when you’re suddenly selling millions of records. But no-one sold their soul or changed their fucking tune, this was what evolved out of punk rock. Looking back it was a natural progression. Guns was a mix of a lot of different input, punk rock, seventies rock, and it was about doing something different and maybe that’s what punk rock sounded like at that point, I don’t know (laughs). I mean Guns was as DIY as it got, we would hitchhike 1,200 miles to get to a gig but we just went to the next level in getting a major label deal, that was the big change. But I took that ethic with me that Strummer had said. I don’t know any different, I’m honoured to be playing gigs and I’ve always paid tribute to that way of thinking."

"The ‘60s things we’ve discussed were a really big influence on me - it almost seemed like an early dream - but then I got into the Bowie, glam rock thing, which was my first choice of things in a way. That led me into New York punk rock and that’s the bit that made me pick up the guitar. I’d played the guitar a bit, but along with Television, Talking Heads made me want to be in a band and that whole scene inspired me much more than English punk rock. That time very much felt like a new chapter - ‘out with the old, and in with the new’ - and I guess that’s what punk rock was, but I thought a lot of the English punk bands were a bit crap. There were a few good ones and a lot of people talk about The Clash and The Pistols, but for me it was Patti Smith, Talking Heads, Blondie, MC5, New York Dolls and Iggy Pop. I loved all that stuff and it somehow seemed to fit with glam rock, with Bowie, Roxy Music and Marc Bolan and led me into Talking Heads and that whole thing. When I was an unemployed kid I’d get the bus into town, wander around and meet loads of people who wanted to form bands. There weren’t many people into The Velvet Underground back then, which I was at the time and I was a bit of a misfit in many ways. Matthew Street in Liverpool was a run-down area of empty warehouses then and there was nothing much there, but I met a lot of likeminded people around a warehouse called The Liverpool School of Music, Dream, Art and Pun and that was where I first met a lot of the guys who ended up in my first band. Opposite to that there was a record shop called Probe, a tea rooms and a club called Eric’s, and they became the centre of my everyday existence. Eric’s was set up by a guy called Roger Eagle who had been in Manchester. He was a Northern Soul DJ and a music aficionado and was heavily involved in the scene. Although those bands weren’t mainstream at that point, I got to see them all at Eric’s, which was brilliant. We got let into the gigs for free in return for helping them to carry amps and I got to chat to all of the bands that I loved at the time. As a song, “Psycho Killer” really stood out. It was very compelling and there was the whole idea of how David Byrne looked like he was a college professor or something, he was so awkward and gangly, but he had brilliant words. I remember thinking at the time ‘He’s not singing about the usual things, how are these words in a song? How do you do this?!’"