By Sean Flinn | November 5, 1999

Rollins rocking at the Brick by Brick in San Diego, Calif., August 6, 1999.

On July 29, 1999, I had the good fortune to speak with Mr. Rollins. He proved himself just as insightful, gracious and intelligent as I'd always figured he would be. Rollins has a work ethic that puts most musicians and "cultural icons" to shame. As he points out on his latest spoken-word release, Eric the Pilot, he's done over 100 gigs a year for the last 17 years. In between, he busies himself writing new musical material; running 2.13.61, his publishing house and record label; cranking out his own books; touring as a spoken-word artist; acting in the occasional film and producing other bands' albums. On the wall near my desk at RadioSpy.com, I have a postcard of a man running, a large key (like those found in wind-up toys) planted in his back; this image always reminds me of Rollins, the man forever on the go. I've admired that quality in him for as long as I've been a Rollins fan -- a long time now, stretching well back into my adolescence. It continues to impress me.

This interview reveals things about Hank that I've never seen uncovered before and adds a layer of depth to things about him that many of his fans already know. He speaks candidly about his incredibly diverse interest in music, his approach to songwriting, his experience with fame, his childhood. And of primary interest to us and anyone involved with music on the Internet, Rollins talks about MP3s, illuminating the way a major music icon thinks about music and how he's hoping new technology will transform for the better the industry he's worked in for most of his life.

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I've noticed in past interviews, you've mentioned that your lyric writing and sort of your musical side kind of comes up from a darker, more painful place.

Yeah, most of the time it does.

When you go in to work with people like George Clinton --or I remember you telling a story at one of your spoken-word shows about working with RuPaul on a cover of "Funkytown" -- I was wondering if their upbeat, kind of "funky good times" vibe clashes at all with you touching on your dark places, and if so, how do you adjust to that?

No. I mean, I kind of can adapt to things around me. A lot of times, lyrically, stuff I do is a bit intense just because that's where I go with music, you know, when something hurts. For me, it's the blues. No matter what it comes out sounding like, I'm always in that genre.I always consider myself a blues man. But that doesn't mean you can't be funny or have good times too. It's just that it's been harder for me to articulate that in song over the years, and when I do, it comes across OK. Like that song "Liar."

" That's why music is so great: Because it gets you through. James Brown saves you. Iggy Pop saves you."

It's got a nice mix of tongue-in-cheek and kind of a nastiness to it that gives it a nice edge. But with George, it was his basic lyric. He wrote the verses; I wrote the chorus and the outro. So basically I was going off his vibe, and it came off well. I just sang on [Black Sabbath guitarist] Tony Iommi's solo record, and that was a lyric idea I'd had for a while. But Tony gave me a tape of, like, 12 instrumentals, and I picked the song I wanted to do, and that lyric idea really fit the riff. So I hammered it out and sang it. It's a way darker thing because the riff is way more, you know, kind of…head crushing. The songs are like a journal, you know? Woman leaves -- well, you gotta write about that. Good times, bad times -- they all kind of filter their way into the songs. Come In and Burn, lyrically, was pretty dark, but at that time I was pretty bummed out, living in Manhattan. All those songs, the lyrics were all written walking around Manhattan -- literally, just walking around with a notebook, sitting down in places, writing, coming up with ideas and just walking endlessly for miles all over Manhattan night to night.

I've noticed that a lot of your fans, myself included, tend to listen to your music to pick them up, say, after the demise of a relationship or in their low moments. The End of Silence has really pulled me and some of my friends out of some really dark places.

That's a heavy record.