I relate with military families and Gold Star families. Gold Star families are families where somebody didn't come home. My father died in 1949. He was a flight instructor in the Army Air Corp.

I have some fond memories - a couple of the nights on the town ... a couple of songs I wrote when I was messed up that I'm sure wouldn't have come out of me unless I was messed up. It's kind of happy-sad about those days - I could do anything I wanted to. I did. And now I don't want to do any of that.

L.A. is kind of flat these days; I guess Austin and other places are like that now. But that's what I wanted to get across: You could be as crazy as you wanted, and that was OK. You didn't have to be good; people would still come and hear you.

The one that achieved the greatest amount of success is the Eagles. And because it was really successful, it was a lot more fun. It still is. We get a chance to play music that a lot of people really relate to, and to play places all over the world. That's fun.

My job is to give everyone a chance to catch their breath and step back from all this and get back to work.

The prevailing structures of personal reputation and career advancement mean the biggest rewards often follow the flashiest work, not the best.

You know what? At this point in my career, at this point in my life... I'm 34 years old; I don't have time to be hiding.

I get kids who say, 'Oh, I love your movie, but my mum loves your dad.' It's really nice to be able to share that with him, but it doesn't define who I am career-wise.