Growing up playing jazz and improvising has had a big impact on me, and it translates into my music.

You don't have to just hit nails with hammers, you know; you can use a hammer to beat somebody's brains in, to make armor or break a car window. You can do all kinds of things with your instrument outside of its surface purpose. My bass is my crutch but the best crutch I could have.

Japoneese people take themselves very serious and you can see it by everything they do - it's like a different part of the scale or spectrum in being a human, and it's something we're not used to seeing in America. And then when you see it, you do have the moments of infatuation; you get caught up in it, but there's so much more to it.

I was pretty spoiled growing up, creatively and artistically; we were exposed to a lot of different things. I remember watching my brother's friends struggle to get to the level he was at musically and wondering why they were having such a hard time.

When I was younger, I was always a musician that could play by ear better than I could analytically.

I think anytime you set out to start doing something, it's always a difficult thing. It's a theory of a blank sheet of paper, for an artist; It's a challenge to put yourself in that position in life, and even in your mind, to put the two together. But you have to, and so that's what you do. I tend to look at it as less than a problem than a process.

I couldn't tell how many times I've been to Japan off the top of my head, I just have a few standout moments that were very defining and inspirational at different parts of my life. As far as moving there, I don't know. That's a tall order there. I feel there's people that go so far as to do that, and good for them, but I just can't. For me it's not a misplaced passion or a weird infatuation - it's more like I've just had a good chance to realize how immensely their art has affected our American culture, and I don't take it for granted. I've got a very big appreciation.