I really feel like there's a void in this world for music that acknowledges that spiritual aspect of these activities as well as just the sheer physicality of them.

There are a lot of unspoken things with me and Nimai [Larson]. We're very yin and yang, neither one of us really treads on each other's toes. She's this wizard of the rhythm world, and I know nothing about that, but I can dabble with melody and lyrics and that's something she doesn't really have any interest in. We complement each other in that way.

I had this crazy, a bit of a near-death experience in Estonia. I had these visions of the future but I was in this state where I felt the past, the present, and the future were all happening at the same time.

I had writers block for months afterwards because I was just so taken aback by all of the sounds I was hearing. It's almost like hearing the most beautiful music you've ever heard, so you're like, "What's the point of me making anything?" It was this living sonic organism so the idea of recording something just seemed like taking this living thing and mummifying it.

I listen to pop music and it sounds like mantra to me, there's this power to it. There's also something to be said about how it reaches people on a mass level, there's some magic to that.

I always look at that stuff as something that's not a separate entity from the music but a visual representation of the music. I feel like your external appearance should be in harmony with your internal appearance. That's mainly our approach to the visuals.

I really wanted to be able to make the music that acknowledged the metaphysical aspect of extreme sports because when I started watching GoPro videos, the thing that struck me the most was that the sound seemed completely detached from the imagery.