I loved every second of Catholic church. I loved the sickly sweet rotting-pomegranate smells of the incense. I loved the overwrought altar, the birdbath of holy water, the votive candles; I loved that there was a poor box, the stations of the cross rendered in stained glass on the windows.
“I'm not a rich man, and Greg Lake is certainly not. I don't know how he can survive. I don't know how he can be that suicidal. But having said that, I'd love to be there to help Greg.”
“I'd forgotten what it was like to play music and have it be fun so I decided to stop. I wasn't even sure if I was going to make a new record, I was just kinda quitting.”