I don't know where emotion emanates from exactly. I'm full of it, that's all I know.

I'm absolutely flooded with a raucous energy to get out into the world and tell my story again. I feel like this is spring. After a period of shriveling, out come the leaves.

In terms of writing, I think something happens to you, and you think, "Oh I'm going to write about that. That's an emotional event." But obviously, if you keep going, and it's something you do with regularity, you've got to find other ways to write.

And come, blue deeps! magnificently strown With coloured clouds - large, light, and fugitive.

I don't know what I want, but I know what I don't want: I don't want to just repeat myself.

Everything's stolen. Everything precious - be it a kiss, or be it James Brown - gets misappropriated to the aid of the advertising executives. So, an act of reclamation, somewhere else to be: that's what I want my music to be. Somewhere you can step into. A place.

I guess I'm just a heart-on-sleeve type of human being.