"Anytime somebody’s like, “You want to watch Boogie Nights?” No problem. Carve out the afternoon. I’m ready to go. Again, story, performances, direction, music, era, subject matter — it all works for me on that one. Both as just a simple audience member who wants to check out of life and have a nice time, and also as someone who works in this industry and appreciates as an objective viewer the craftsmanship of that film. I mean, “It’s my big dick and I want to f— now, Jack?” How do you write something better better than that? [laughing] I’m constantly quoting that to friends. But there’s this thing that a friend of mine just showed me on the DVD that’s called the “John C. Reilly Files,” or “Reilly Files.” It’s basically scenes that were not used in the final edit, but are John C. Reilly-based scenes. They are incredible. It’s so cool. So many of them are — maybe my friend who showed it to me, maybe he’s lying — but so many of them are cut scenes during the recording sessions. Things like that, where he’s the ultimate wing man. You know what I mean? He’s repping so hard for Dirk in the recording studio. It’s a bench marker. I would be interested to see what other films came out in 1997. Like what really holds up. Like, Magnolia still holds up for me. Punch Drunk Love still holds up for me. PT Anderson — those movies. I went back and watched There Will be Blood maybe three or four months ago. Just riveting. Those movies don’t get old for me. There’s so much to digest in them."

"Forrest Gump. That is the longest movie ever, but I will watch it as Forrest is learning how to walk, when his braces fall off of him; when he’s like, going through the swampy puddles of Vietnam; when he’s like, ping-ponging through China. I could watch that movie on Netflix or throw on a DVD, but I’ll end up sitting eight hours, watching it through commercials. I’m sitting there, like, “This is a lot, but I can’t leave. Forrest Gump is on!” “Yeah, you can watch it any time that you want.” “I know, but I’m gonna sit here through these commercials and watch Forrest Gump.” It is like the longest movie ever and becomes the longest movie ever when you sit there through commercials, but I’ll sit there through every stage of Forrest’s life. I will be there. It kind of feels like it needs no explanation because it’s Forrest Gump. I mean, there are so many stories in one, and it’s just so beautiful. You have a man who lives his life with only love and loyalty, loyalty for the ones he loves, and that’s what drives him. It’s so beautiful to watch how that all unfolds. That part at the end when he goes and he sees Jenny after all that time, back there towards the end, and then he’s this little boy and he’s like, “Is he smart or is he…” She’s like, “No, he’s really smart.” Then he goes and sits down next to him — which is a little, tiny Haley Joel Osment — but then they’re both watching the cartoons, and then they both turn their head and tilt it, and it’s just… It’s such a beautiful story, because at the end, you know, Jenny’s finally kind of gone through a life and exorcised all of her demons. She goes through this whole thing in her life, where she has this little boy, and only through love and wanting to take care of her child does she get her life together and reach back out to Forrest. It’s so beautiful at the end. She finally is there, but they don’t get much time together because she’s sick. Then at the end he’s got his little boy with him, and it’s just such a beautiful… It’s such a beautiful movie, and story, and you really feel like you’re with him through all these different stages of his life. The one thing that never changes is his heart. He never gets jaded like the rest of us. The rest of us in the world, we get jaded, we get hardened. Not “we,” but there’s a lot of people who go through the world and feel like they’ve been hurt, they’ve been betrayed, they’ve been beaten down, and so they’re allowed to live life angry, and you just have to give them a big old pass on being upset and angry, but that’s just the story we tell ourselves. S— happens to everybody, and a lot of s— happened to Forrest, but his heart never changed. I think that’s a beautiful story and something we can all take with us."

"What don't I say about Aja? We all have our different experiences with Walter Becker and Donald Fagen, but everything that they've created throughout the years is really awesome. I have a few albums of theirs I love; Can't Buy A Thrill, Katy Lied, Pretzel Logic, but there's a number of reasons why I am totally in love with Aja. It stems from the personnel, the feel, and how much it was a stab in another direction of pop culture. It was anti-pop, it was a bit on the outskirts of everything, I think. It's always funny listening to Donald Fagen singing about stuff because it's like, 'what's the guy rambling on about?' sometimes. A couple of my favourite musicians are on it; like Steve Gadd and, again, Michael McDonald. When I realised this was Michael McDonald singing background I lost my fucking mind, like, straight up. I always loved the Doobie Brothers and I knew his hits because of hip hop and stuff, but I remember being like 'Who's this magical person singing these dissonant chords behind the changes with ease with this weird timbre of voice?' – and you look at the credits and of course it's Michael McDonald. Aja, if I can't listen to it in its entirety then I get mad; I get pissed because I want to go through the whole album every time. One of my favourite moments on the album is Steve Gadd playing out on actual song 'Aja'; the way that just like the drum feels and everything – I don't know how to play drums but I love to try to act like I play drums to that one moment when he takes a slight solo at the end. Steve Gadd was always one of my favourite drummers ever because of the choices of records and stuff that he would do. Aja is he was he was one of those moments that it spanned out to everybody at that point. It was like at the height of their popularity. That was what happened and it was perfect."

"When you listen to a song a lot, it becomes more and more difficult for it to surprise you. But this song is perfectly structured in a way where it overtakes itself. It’s from Roxy Music’s self-titled album from 1972, and it starts out almost hokey, like it’s giving a nod to honky-tonk music. Then the guitar line comes in, and it’s like a fuck-you to the rest of the song. And then Bryan Ferry’s vocals completely change. It becomes so plaintive and emotional. It’s about this intrusion upon one’s own story, which I love. When the song inserts a new sonic quality upon itself, it jars me from whatever I’m doing. I spend so much time trying to remind myself to be present, and this song acts as an aural reminder to do that. I use it almost as a form of meditation. And it’s what I want from music to begin with: It renders me stupid and rudderless, and then it rebuilds an anchor out of notes and melody. It’s like a continual reminder to do that in my life. When I’m busy, listening to the same songs and artists over and over is a way of simplifying my life. I tend to wear the same clothing, everything becomes ritualized. Obviously there are so many new musicians that we can tune in to every day, but I also love finding a new appreciation for those who already exist. Because that’s what our world is: We build upon what’s already there. And I like unearthing as much as I like moving forward."