I can't regret until the end. And I won't regret then, either.

I like to make my voice sound like a piece of tin that's been stuck on the side of a chair, lifted up as far as it would go and then let to spring - "doooiiinng." I like to make it into a piece of metal from time to time and I can do it, both with the movements in my throat and with, uh, my little toys... So I like to take it beyond just a voice, more into the realms of a weapon.

I really had to think and learn about musical intervals.

I've lived a life which has been pretty much full up with ambition, ideas, stimulus, creativity, some negativity which I try and avoid.

I think I'm prone to panic.

I may as well do everything as if it’s brand new, and if I start to feel that any of it’s a compromise, then I’ll...I’ll be in Wisconsin.

Now I'm a blithering oaf hanging on to the coatsleeves of commerciality.