As a hard-rock singer back in the late '60s, I didn't want to live what I considered a dead end, "conventional" kind of life. I played at the Fillmore, Avalon, Circle Star Theater, with many of the greats—Jimi Hendrix, The Grateful Dead, Big Brother and The Holding Company were our stage companions. But inner turmoil—maybe stemming from unanswered childhood problems and an undisciplined artistic nature—led me to view life as a meaningless few years of simply trying to survive. I didn't want to pray to a creator who would make such a foolish creation. I tried to figure life out for myself, but I felt like a ship without a rudder. And there's not much direction or progress possible without a rudder, no matter how flashy or well-built the ship.
I started singing with rock bands when I was about 15. In a few years I had my own group and was well into the wilder part of the hard-rock scene. Drugs, alcohol, smoking, and promiscuous sex were the norm. My actions were not formed by any moral values except the attitude of the day, which was, If it feels good, do it. Janis Joplin and I sat backstage and drank Southern Comfort together—finding no comfort at all.
Janis Joplin and I drank Southern Comfort together—finding no comfort at all.
