It amazes me sometimes that even intelligent people will analyze a situation or make a judgement after only recognizing the standard or traditional structure of a piece.

When I'm stuck for a closing to a lyric, I will drag out my last resort: overwhelming illogic.

I'm bemused by the whole Robbie Williams aspect of British pop. Posh Spice? It all looks like cruise ship entertainment to me.

There, in the chords and melodies, is everything I want to say. The words just jolly it along. It's always been my way of expressing what for me is inexpressible by any other means.

People who had been treated inhumanly, not given a chance to secure any foot on any ladder - and all the social mores were suddenly abandoned.

I was studying Tibetan Buddhism when I was quite young, again influenced by Kerouac.

Rebel, rebel, you've torn your dress. Rebel, rebel, your face is a mess. Rebel, rebel, how could they know? Hot tramp, I love you so.