When I'm playing best, I'm just thinking about the music, just interacting with what my bandmates are playing.

When we play, every day is different. All three of my bandmates surprise me all the time.

There were no rules. There's no guide to follow. I would just trust my instincts for some unknown reason. Something inside me would say, "This guitar is not loud enough," and I wouldn't know why. You never know how to reach that point until you've reached it.

That's one of the things that always grabbed me about rock music: There's a song, and you know how it goes, and you can sort of predict it, but a lot is left up to chance and interaction.

I feel vulnerable when my ego is threatened - if I get jealous of another band's good time slot at a big festival, if I'm about to get clobbered in a political debate, if I'm trying to impress someone I have a crush on. It's the opposite of openness, letting go, allowing deep feelings to express themselves. For me, that comes from playing music and from kissing.

It's very heartening to see people who I used to do music with still doing it.

When I'm playing best, I'm just thinking about the music, just interacting with what my bandmates are playing.