Bruegel has these paintings of people just... interacting with each other. And there's this special wink - it's not a celebration of nature, it's people that are mongrels, and half-wits, and they're doing terrible things. I don't know, it just seems like something worth singing about.

An acceptance of your cultural inheritance, and at the same time a dislike of it, is a building block of good art.

These are things that I continue to enjoy speaking about. The woods. Boats. Greeks. I think the real heart of it, is really being in love with these Dutch paintings over the last several years.

We're a live band. Some bands write their songs in the studio - we don't do that. We're playing songs on this tour that were written three days before the tour. And it feels good to try these songs.

I find listening to music in terms of influences, and trying to keep up with what's going on, is sickening! I mean, I'm not deliberately musically illiterate. But I have a pretty serendipitous approach to it.

I'm really happy that people are starting to hear my band, and we are so happy to be conduits for all this other happiness, and this emotional response. So, I can't be like, "that doesn't matter to me, I'm an artist, I exist apart from that!" But on the other hand, if you buy into that too much, you're setting yourself up... if I start thinking, "well, people at the show really liked one song, maybe I should write more songs like that," then I'm in trouble.

One thing I've always been proud of is that vicious dichotomy between the pretty controlled, angular playing of the band, and my - I don't want to talk about myself as a 'wild man' or anything, but I have trouble staying on the beat.