“I couldn’t figure out how to tour with Passion And Warfare. I wanted a frontman. I didn’t want to be the guy in front playing instrumental music – I mean, I dreamed of that, but I didn’t think it would work. So I went through the Whitesnake phase, and when I got done with that I got tied up with a lot of other projects that I probably shouldn’t have.

“But then I thought, OK, people are buying my music. I’d better step it up and get professional. I hired a management firm that didn’t understand me, really, and I decided to make a record with a singer, and I found one, Devin Townsend. He was unbelievable, with such a unique voice.

“I really loved what Devin could do, but he was probably an acquired taste, and since this was in the early ‘90s, it wasn’t what people were interested in. The grunge thing was hitting. I wanted to make a more commercial record with a band and potential radio songs. I wanted it to have some twists in it but not be as esoteric as Passion And Warfare and Flex-Able, so I made Sex & Religion.

“It just didn’t work for me. Any band is usually something where a bunch of guys get together and contribute with unconditional acceptance. But I couldn’t do that. And with somebody like Devin, who is so unbelievably creative, he was like a colorful bird trapped in a cage with me.

“The album wasn’t accepted terribly well. It was too aggressive to a lot of conventional ears. The heavy metal thing didn’t hit yet – it was all grunge – and the record was very musical; it had a lot of my quirky conceptual qualities. But I thought it was a great album. The only complaint I have is that I don’t like a lot of the sounds because of some of the gear I was using.

“I realized that I compromised my true musical desires, my inner ear, to try and make something more commercial. Not totally commercial, but I was pressured by record companies and managers, radio and all the shit that goes along with trying to sustain a pop-type career.”