And the music, as far as a type of music, it's still pretty viable.

Folk-rock hasn't changed much over the decades since the Byrds started it.

I don't cringe when I think of doing old material. A lot of the people have been with me through the years.

I just play, and I'm always trying to write songs.

I relate to the audiences and they know me. It's pretty real.

I'm not trying to be the new anybody.

It's often said that life is strange. But compared to what?

You don't see a lot of difference between the Gin Blossoms and the Byrds.

But I'm able to just keep going, and that's the challenge. It's the next song. And then just enjoying the shows and people who come out to the shows. It's pretty organic, really.

I wouldn't be interested in just doing a show that's mapped out and choreographed with a set list. That would've been boring so long ago it just wouldn't be any fun.

I've had an advantage; I've had a sort of open public acceptance in New York that doesn't happen to just anyone trying to make the transition you were talking about.

So I played the acoustic guitar and harmonica and stomped my foot and I think I was right in assuming that Greenwich Village would be the best place to perform my own material and possibly get some attention, move on to making records and all.

There was just no way I could leave this little Martin guitar in my apartment overnight or even in the afternoon, and expect to find it there when I got back.