Well, what I'm about to say—I'm gonna come across as a prima donna, but if there's any singers out there reading this at this point, they'll understand completely. You must put that in there, the preface, because it's important. Everybody thinks singers are prima donnas. And to a degree I guess we are. But at the same time, the difference between a voice and fingers, or hands, is neurotic at best. When someone's fingers get calluses on them, the guitar doesn't hurt so bad. It feels better. Same for the bass. Same for the piano player, when his fingers get callused and strong. When a drummer gets calluses on his hands, they no longer chafe and they no longer blister, and that's fantastic. The moment a singer gets one callus, he's finished. Singers live on the edge of being powerful, being strong, and not degrading their voice, and it's the most difficult edge to walk. You feel like you're on a high-wire all the time. And the pressure of walking in front of an audience every night, and wanting to be what you know they want you to be, and what you want to be for them, and to have this silly little thing in your throat that's about as neurotic as you are, is difficult. So it can make any singer a little crazy. It can make you just live your life in a state of insecurity and fear. Until you walk out there and open your mouth, and you see what you got, and then it tells you if it's gonna be a fun evening or not.
Steve Perry sounds like he is admiting he had vocal nodes at this point in his career.