Only after a piece of music is done does my frontal cortex allow me to organize what might be trying to come out of my subconscious.

Something I keep coming back to in my music is the tension between two extremes: healing and chaos, hope and anxiety - these big themes are inside us, flickering, all day.

I do love the idea that something can make you forget that you're listening and just transport you to somewhere else in your head.

You become more animalistic when you don't know what's coming next - you have to be on guard, but at the same time you're also more receptive.

There is also a particular frustration that I have with language. It's so clumsy. There's often two words that are close in meaning, yet what I'm trying to say is in between them, or it might be a little more layered and nuanced. Having this conversation with you is exciting, because I can feel you resonate, even though we're on the phone. That's really beautiful to me.

First thought, best thought. I live by that when I make my own music.

If I crave a frequency in the mid, I'll just drag in a sound and try to mold it into what feels right. It happens very quickly. And if I've been making a piece of music for five hours and it sucks, I'll just throw it away.