I started listening to gospel when I was a little boy and my grandmother used to rock me on her lap.

I was very surprised when I heard that I had been chosen to receive the James Cardinal Gibbons Award.

I remember going up and doing 'Bridge Over Troubled Water' with Paul Simon, Santana playing up there with us.

I'm waiting for them to come up with a 'Star Trek' thing so they can beam me from my house to the gigs and back.

People are living a lot longer these days and not preparing for it. I'm in the gym and, you know, using my voice.

I know the fact that I was born means I have to die, so my only aim is to reach out and help someone along the way.

If you want something to play with go find yourself a toy, baby, my time is too expensive and I'm not a little boy.

That's one thing you hear in my voice today. I could yodel from one octave to another octave. It always fascinated me.

In New Orleans, music is part of the culture. You're raised with it, from the cradle to the grave, and all in-between.

My mother turned me onto St. Jude back in the days when I was wild and crazy. She took me to the shrine on Rampart Street.

Sometimes in the middle of the night, I wake up with a song in my head, and I have to finish it so I can fall back asleep.

When I first went out on the road with Larry Williams, there was also, like, The Coasters, The Drifters, and The Flamingos.

At dances when I was a little kid, Art would be up there singing while I'd be dancing with some girl a foot taller than me.

Singing is my entire life. I nearly lost that. I am so blessed to be able to do this. It's the only thing I've ever wanted to do.

I worked with the Neville Brothers for 40-some years on the highway, and up and down since I can remember - funk from New Orleans.

I've had problems with my throat over the years, playing with loud bands for years, and I've had bruised vocal chords and nodules.

I think St. Jude helped me achieve some miracles in my life - that's why I wear the medallion in my left ear and never take it out.

So now I have a collection of poetry by Aaron Neville and I give it to people I want to share it with. I'd like to publish it someday.

My drummer, bass player, and guitar player sing backgrounds. They play and sing. I can sing all the harmonies, but I can't do it alone.

My favorite prayer is Footprints in the Sand. You know that prayer? I know the times that he carried me, you know? I kind of wore him out.

It's one of the greatest festivals in the world. New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Fest is the best all-around... It's an honor to be closing it.

I'll be singing with The Blind Boys of Alabama, which is a great joy to me. I've done some work with them before, and they truly are amazing.

A lot of my solo albums were produced by different people who had their idea of what songs I should do, and they had me doing a lot of ballads.

It's a thanksgiving to God. It's something I have wanted to do for a long time, but the record company wasn't ready for it. So I did it myself.

My voice belongs to me, from God. People will comment, "Your voice helped me through." Maybe it’s God in me, because I don’t take credit for that.

I've been in some beautiful places, but the prettiest sight is flying back to New Orleans. Being able to look down and say, 'I know where I am now.'

When I sang, I couldn't help making those little curves. People would say, 'Why don't you sing straight?' But I have always had to put something in.

The first time I recorded without Allen Toussaint, I wanted to do doo-wop. Everything I've done since then has got some kind of doo-wop essence in it.

When I was living in the projects, I had a mop stick for my horse. I wanted to be Gene Autry or Roy Rogers, so I would ride my mop through the projects.

The music of the Clovers and Spaniels and the rest was like candy to me. I couldn't get enough; my teachers probably thought I had attention deficit disorder.

It's a 360-degree sound experience. Like you're in the middle of the band. A lot of people have the technology to play the format, so why not put it out there. It sounds great.

Every day, some act of kindness comes my way, even if it's just someone opening the door. It happens every day if you keep an eye out for it. Keeping an eye out, that's the key.

Through the years, I found we had Native American blood in us. My great-grandmother came from the island of Martinique, and they hooked up with the Native Americans of Louisiana.

We used to play football on the levee, with no shirts on in the summer - August in New Orleans - and my skin would turn red. They'd call me Redskin, Red Apache, then it turned around to Apache Red.

You've just got to sing, do some kind of singing every day. Early mornings and cold weather can mess with that. I drink special teas with cayenne pepper, but I think you're psyching yourself out, really.

My brother Art was a doo-wopper. He had a group that sat out on a park bench in New Orleans and sang harmonies at night, and they'd go around and win all the talent shows and get all the girls, you know.

I am very honored and excited to have 'Devotion' released as the first DVD Audio disc... surround sound is amazing... The music comes alive and is so vibrant - it's unlike anything you've ever heard before!

Working with the brothers can put pressure on my voice, so I choose to do my own solo thing so I can save my voice. I couldn't do both now. The Neville Brothers is a funk band; they play loud, and I have a strong voice.

I'm here now because of my faith. That's what got me singing and what has kept me singing. That is what I have: what has kept me doing right and has provided me with the chances and the attitude and the skills to do this.

Man, I was scared. I didn't know what to think. All of a sudden, I got a record climbing the charts, and I'm out in the streets. You know, workin' on the docks. And the first week, it sold something like 40,000 in New Orleans.

So I went in front of the judge, and I had my St. Jude prayer book in my pocket and my St. Jude medal. And I'm standing there and that judge said I was found guilty, so he sentenced me to what the law prescribed: one to 14 years.

I never really got paid for 'Tell It Like Is,' but I look back at it and say God knew what he was doing; he probably figured that if I had got money back in them days, I wouldn't be here now. That's okay. I'm here. And I'm still singing the song.

'Yellow Moon' was a poem. My wife at the time, Joel - she's dead now - it was our 25th anniversary. She had the chance to go on a cruise with her sister. And I'm home with the kids and looking up, and I saw the big moon, and I just started writing.

When I was growing in the Callope project, we had an oval parkway. Pavement ran around this whole thing. We'd skate or ride bicycles. There were benches and trees out there. It was paradise to us. They finished building it the same year I was born.

When I'm singing, it's a mixture of my innocence in the projects, my mom and dad. It's all the good and the bad, the laughs and the frowns that I went through and seen other people go through. Then you be trying to write it. Whatever's coming out, you try and make it all cool.

If we were poor, we didn't know it 'cause I guess you don't miss what you never had. So, you know, we made do with whatever. We used to make our own toys, and we used to play with spinning tops and marbles. A pocket full of marbles, and you were rich - you didn't worry about no money.

I used to always sing my way into the movies and the basketball games or whatever. I'd sing for whoever's on the door, and they'd let me in. I used to think I was Nat King Cole back in the day, you know. So I'd sing something like, 'Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa, men have named you,' and they'd let me in.

Doo-wop is the true music to me, man. Doo-wop was what nurtured me and grew me into who I am, and I guess even when I was in school, the teacher probably thought I had ADD or something every day, because I'd be beating on the desks, singing like the Flamingos or the Spaniels or Clyde McPhatter or somebody.

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