"Kwaidan is a film like no other. Adapted from Japanese legends and myths that were collected by Irish author Lafcadio Hearn, the film is an anthology of four ghost stories. The superstitiousness of Irish culture clearly influenced Hearn’s recording of these tales, and to see these stories adapted again by a Japanese artist is fascinating. I think Kobayashi poured his soul into this project. Kwaidan, in every way, bleeds Japanese culture and identity: not a loud and obnoxious nationalistic pride, but a thoughtful and considered love and respect for its heritage. Toru Takemitsu provides an austere and haunting score using traditional Japanese instruments and warped sound effects. The majority of the film is shot on a soundstage and features strikingly, often eerily painted backdrops. This was Kobayashi’s first color project, and cinematographer Yoshio Miyajima uses light, a 2:35:1 aspect ratio, and refined camera movement to astonishing effect."

"I have this real image - for some reason - that it came out the summer I left prep school, and was going to public school. I was 13, and I remember playing it at a friend's house - Benjamin - and I also have this image of me sitting in the bath listening to it on the cassette machine and having to wipe my hands when I changed the tape over. I thought it was a man to begin with, when I first heard 'Fast Car' on the radio. The a capella one, 'Behind The Wall', blew my mind. There's not many records that are that concise as a piece of work, and it often happens when it's a new artist because they're not having to try so hard and they just come out with what they want. That record was a real moment, whatever that moment was."

"As a child, I wanted to grow up to be a professional cartoonist, and when I was about twelve or thirteen my father (right around the time he showed me The Rocky Horror Picture Show) handed me a Washington Post article about Robert Crumb and said, “Here, you might be interested in this.” And boy, was he right! Like finding out that the Cramps and Meet the Feebles existed, this was revelatory. I didn’t know you were allowed to make art like this. (And of course, in Crumb’s case, sometimes you’re not.) Zwigoff’s portrait-of-the-artist-as-nihilistic-misanthrope is one of the all-time great docs about creativity and the toll it can take (see Burden of Dreams for another one!), and on top of that, it’s caustically funny and soul-crushingly humane. Where have you gone, Terry Zwigoff? Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you."