You have to sit with the songs until they start to live. Or do things straight-up spontaneously. I set up a beat just like I do in the live show, add the lyrics that I wrote in thirty minutes - I already had a topic in mind because I had this crazy experience with this girl who was trying to get close to me and it freaked me out because she was really close to another friend of mine, and I thought, "This is a story, I'm gonna make this into a song."

I do my best to make music spontaneously. It's very personal in a way. It's really a direct connection between me and anyone who's watching. I don't want to be in my own bubble. I'm reaching out.

All kinds of music comes out that I'm not prepared for. Some of it is good, some of it rubbish, but I kind of accept it all. That's the nature of stream-of-consciousness. You can't always come up with your most lucid material in the heat of the moment. I take that risk when I play live. I open up my mind, however fertile a creative springboard it is that evening.

The most important thing for me - and the thing I get frustrated about when I don't achieve it - is momentum. Sometimes you hit on it quite naturally and other times it's a mad struggle.

It always happens around beach resorts, a certain kind of money gravitates to the scene. The gold goes to the water. People love to wear it, show it off, roll with it. For me, I just find it disgusting.

I just throw myself into a mad frenzy, whip up a storm and see what comes through.

There's very much a domino effect when I'm playing. In fact, that's a good way of putting it. I'm trying to topple all the dominos in a single stroke. That would be a show with perfect momentum. Every now and again, you get one of those dominos that moves to the side a little bit, traps things and you have to stand them all up again and see if people will go with you. They'll let you off a few times but if you make too many mistakes they'll get a bit anxious.