Some Like Yesterday Better Than Today, Wait for Tomorrow is definitely edgier than your former two albums, but still optimistic, and you just explained that.

The Roadmasters didn’t tour to promote that album, but it still sold better than Audie and Lynie Live On, which sold better than Like a Desperation which sold better than Night Lies.

Your next album is The Cycle.

This shades dark again and included the single “Musk” which, like “Tulips,” though far less tender, is a raunchy, barely veiled narrative of McCade and Lyla’s sex life, particularly how much he enjoyed performing cunnilingus on her and receiving fellatio from her.

If Lyla is struggling under the spotlight, and McCade doesn’t like it shining on her, why did he share such intimacies so publicly?

[Sighs]

Because you don’t tell a poet what poems to write.

And anyway…

The damage was already done.

The thing is, we’d entered the fast lane.

And once you’re there, you got two choices.

You keep up.

Or you crash.

But just to say, that’s a kickass song. It’s sexy as fuck.

And I think at that point, Preach was so fed up, he was feeling, if you couldn’t beat ’em…

Give ’em something to really be jealous about.

And last, Lyla fuckin’ loved that song, and at first, he wrote it for her and had no intention of including it on the album.

He did it, we did it, because Lyla encouraged us to.

Partly because she knew it was a hit.

But mostly because, she had a lot of fuck yous to deliver.

And that was one big, steamy, dirty, smutty, wicked-awesome fuck you.

[Grins]

And you know the fuck of it, to this day, that’s our highest grossing album.

And that album…

And that song…

Won us our first awards.

Listen, you never bitch about being rich and famous.

You just don’t.

Heard someone say once, I forget who, the only thing worse than someone interrupting you at dinner to ask for an autograph is no one interrupting you to ask for an autograph.

And that is true.

Would I rather have played the bar circuit until I got sick to death with it and ended up sitting in my armchair in my living room drinking a beer and wondering what if, instead of admitting I just wasn’t good enough, or didn’t work hard enough, and I should have moved on?

Fuck no.

What we built and what came with it, all of it, I’ll take it.

I’d take more.

I’d take less.

[Grins]

Though not much less.

This all sounds like one huge bitch.

But it isn’t.