If I'm working on a set of songs, and thinking about putting them together in a collection, I start to think about what they have in common. Either on purpose or without meaning to, I shape them all in the same kind of way, because I'd rather the album feel like a galaxy of things that all have to do with each other. I do that with sonic elements, too - it's a matter of each record having its own specific identity.

When people downloading records for free you start to think, "Is it worth spending all this money to make a record sound good, especially if it's going to end up as an mp3?" But I can't drive myself too crazy thinking about that. On one level, being involved in art is all a quixotic thing to begin with.

When your head is smashing into the concrete you don't have question about whether it's a real sensation. And ultimately, that's what's going to unmake us all - smashing up against the physical reality of death and decay, and being unmade.

Culture dictated from above is the enemy of folk music. Whether it's stuffy classical music or pre-engineered pop where somebody's paid tons of money to make sure that everyone hears this song a certain number of times a day - that feels like the opposite of folk music.

I have complicated feelings about nostalgia. I think that sometimes it can be dangerous. It can airbrush the truth, or fictionalize the truth, which leads to the worst kind of sentimentality. But I'm also a sentimental person who feels quite a bit of nostalgia.

Collaboration is such a thrill when you're working with someone you really respect. When it's just one person working alone you get a singular view of their world, and that can be great, too. But when you have different people working together with different aesthetics, different techniques, and different mediums, you get something bigger than both of them.

I try not to read reviews, but if it's a really important review or somebody sends it to me, I'll read it. It's really interesting when you read a review of yourself, you see this weird reflected image - it's like looking a funhouse mirror. Like, "It's sort of me, but is my neck really that elongated?" Sometimes it's vaguely embarrassing what people think of you. When I was in Italy doing this press-interview day, this guy asked me, "Are you a tortured soul?" It's embarrassing to have somebody think you're a tortured soul, or that you think of yourself as a tortured soul.