I spent 25 years clearly understanding that I'm not gonna meet Bono or the Edge. But then it happened at the Grammys when we were all backstage and I just about fell out of my shoes.

It's a great place to be as an artist: if you confuse your label, you're doing your job.

I'm not necessarily in a vocation where I'm at risk; it's not like I'm a police officer. I'm a musician, so when I leave home, my family expects me to come back.

It's hard not to go back and look at my songwriting catalog and go, 'Look, there are 600 to 700 songs here.'

I didn't hesitate to kiss my father in public. And that's how I tried to raise my children. We're physical.

In 'When They Call You a Terrorist,' I reflect on my time growing up in Van Nuys, California, surrounded by my devoted family and supportive friends, weaving our experiences into the larger picture of how predominantly marginalized neighborhoods are under constant systemic attack.

Pride in boasting of family antiquity, makes duration stand for merit.

I always wanted to do a family show.