I have a very strange relationship in general with women around my music. There's some that understand it and some that think there should be a law against it.

It's very important that the music has a sense of adventure to it, and that it's done by the seat of your pants. There's a kind of nervy element about it.

I suspect the older you get the more invisible you become.

I think there is a certain perversity in my music in that I continue, you know, to eat at the same ball of vomit year after year.

The artistic process seems to be mythologized quite a lot into something far greater than it actually is. It is just hard labor.

Everyone wants to feel that they matter.

Music is storming, driving, relentless, devotional, slinky, subtle, heartbreakingly-beautiful sounds that, lyrically, switch from the cynical to the sanguine, the defeated to the defiant, dealing in love, war, beauty, children, romance, rejection, Pethedine, poetry, panties, God, Auden, Johnny Cash, cold potatoes, too-much-money, not enough money, writer’s block, flowers, animals and more flowers. But maybe I’m projecting here.