"In the ’90s and 2000s, HBO Docs and HBO Films were making some of the most incredible documentaries ever. Even while these weren’t being released in theaters, docs were having this crazy renaissance. I have no idea who was in charge or what was happening, but every month there would be some insane, amazing documentary coming out. This one is disturbing. They’re all disturbing, but in a way I find interesting. Maybe because that can make you feel better… I don’t know, but I am interested in this. I really like the backdrop, which is mid- to late-’90s small-town rave culture. This dad has an 18-year-old son and a 16-year-old daughter who are in the rave scene. He’s a preacher, a normal guy, married, has two kids. One day, for whatever reason, he’s like, “Fuck the life I built, I am going to go to the rave with my kids.” He takes ecstasy and becomes their peer: a gnarly, insane raver. He leaves his wife, he gets an apartment with his son, he’s taking ecstasy every night. It’s also funny and obviously more fucked up because it’s real. What I love about documentaries is that Hollywood would take that movie and turn it into a broad comedy and it would be, “Dad parties with his kids!” But to me it’s a drama, it gets into the complexities of what drives someone to do this, how it feels for their kids and for their ex-wife, what experiences led him to break."

"I’d have to include Mr. Hulot’s Holiday, a Jacques Tati movie, which I remember watching at my school when I was 17, and it was such a revelation for me as a movie, as a sort of a comedy tone and attitude which I’d never seen. Almost purely visual, for a start; no words. And like most people, in terms of comedy movies, I’d been brought up on British and American comedy movies, which tend to be fast moving, and they tend to be very verbal, with the exception of the Pink Panthers, actually. Of course, I could veer off into that in terms of the Peter Sellers… But it just had a fabulous comic tone and comic attitude which I’d never seen before, which is basically where you just sit back and watch people behaving in a slightly exaggerated way. And, again, if comedy is exaggerated truth, there it was again. It was the pace of it, the slow pace of it. That’s what was such an eye-opener for me, and taught me one thing, really, which is that comedy is not about pace. It’s about rhythm. Rhythm is what’s important, and the rhythm can be surprisingly slow and still funny. And even if you know the joke’s coming, even if you can hear the joke trundling just the other side of the horizon, and you know it’s going to come over the horizon, you can enjoy it as much as if it’s a surprise. And that was the insight that I feel I got from that."

"There’s a funny story here. When I was with Dave Roth he would always talk about Tom Waits in a very respectful way which was rare. I never heard Dave speak reverently about anybody and I didn’t even know who Tom Waits was. I had never come across his music. But all through the years, Dave would always say, ‘Yeah, like Tom Waits’ and I’d just say ‘Yeah, yeah!’ And then I was on tour with Whitesnake and there was this band opening up called Bad English whose singer was a guy called John Waite and I thought “Wow, this was what Dave was talking about? Hmm, it’s kind of strange because it’s not the kind of singer that Dave would be reverent about.” And then I realized I had the wrong guy… So I went to the store and bought about twenty Tom Waits albums and (one of them was Mule Variations), and I remember that I was listening to all these records, getting three tracks in and literally throwing them away. Then I put Mule Variations on and stopped dead in my tracks. It completely leveled me and I can say – out of everybody I’ve talked about – Tom Waits is my favorite artist now. I completely resonate deeply with his music, his voice and his lyrics; I buy everything he ever does. He’s one of those guys who are totally at one with the creative element with no excuses or concerns about what’s going on around him – totally uncompromising.A lot of people think they’re uncompromising, but they’re not…"

"I blame this movie for starting me smoking again when I was in film school in the eighties. After becoming so smitten with all that Anna Karina embodies, I decided to wear blue tights with red skirts and smoke, constantly. Needless to say it did not turn me into Anna Karina—my tights were the wrong shade of blue, and I was hacking like an old granny at the Santa Anita racetrack. Still, I loved the film, wildly, and love her in it. What is so gorgeous about this DVD is, firstly, Anna herself, and nextly, the color is like powdered paint, soft yet vibrant—not just the gorgeousness of everything Karina wears but also the murals on the walls of the strip club where she works, the jukebox from which Charles Aznavour sings. The exteriors, often shot from high angles on rooftops, have the feel and texture of what Paris must have been at that moment. I saw in the booklet that this film was very special for Jean-Luc Godard and Karina. They were in love, they wed, she was pregnant with their baby, and you can feel the exuberance of the romance in this movie. It’s absolutely exhilarating to me, and also incredibly funny. The other amazing feature on the DVD is a short documentary on Anna Karina made in 1966, clearly to promote Anna, the musical Serge Gainsbourg wrote for her. Serge closes the short, talking in the most brazenly sensual, big, bold close-up about Anna’s humor, her voice, and her sex appeal . . . It’s scrumptious!"

"Where do we even start with Fred Hammond? I grew up going to church, the faith is really strong in my family, I don't think there was a week that passed where he didn’t get played in my house so I’ve got a great love for his music. It’s just interesting how gospel music in particular breaks the idea that music is for entertainment. Music shouldn't always be for entertainment, I think that’s an important notion. Music is a gift, music is given to us, whether you believe in nature or a creator, however you want to call it. And it's tough when you become an artist and you have to step into commerce for your art, which is tricky you know, you’ve got to make bread, but I always need things to remind me it isn't always about getting on stage and making people jiggy. Music is a spiritual thing. I think gospel music does that best. The music that resonates in some sort of deity does that best ‘cos its not trying to appeal to anyone in a way. This is like worship, devotion. And Fred Hammond’s catalogue on top of that is just so funky, so sick, the arrangements, his vocals. He’s one of my favourite artists full stop. I just geek out over his stuff. And the fact that I've just always had him in my life. It's funny when I talk to other people that didn't grow up in church and stuff they’re like, ‘Yeah, man, Fred Hammond was in my house every week too!’"