"It's no more complicated than Spirit. It's interesting what happened after the war with music and arts… In Europe [during the war], arts and music were used to further ideals, that the artists and musicians didn't share. There were people forced to make state marches, forced to glorify ideals they didn't really hold true, and the power of bullying had its most epic day. Post that, the album saw everybody throwing all the rules out. In that period of experimentation, classical music went through a very interesting walk, and when it came back, it seized on a different kind of experimentation, all of western art became more generous, and the most generous music is the stuff that rewards the listener the most. And I haven't found the same heart in any record other than those last two Talk Talk albums. They need to be listened to loud and they need to be listened to over and over again. And I'm stunned every time. How they make me feel is because of the generosity of spirit, it's like weaving spiders' webs from scraps. So delicate, so precious, but not a note or tone is uneventful."

"This is my childhood in a nutshell. I grew up in a very instrumental house, full of musicians, and this was religious for us. Billy Cobham, Tony Williams, these were the pillars my dad raised us on. Total Eclipse, though… My dad had that album on vinyl, but me and my older brother we weren't allowed to touch the record player unless one of my parents were there. But my dad would go to work, and we would wait until he left and then we would put the record on. We would do all kinds of stupid stuff that kids do when they're playing vinyl; messing with the record, warping it, trying to scratch if it's hip hop, but we were really cautious not to literally put scratches in my dad's vinyl. We would listen to Billy Cobham, and my older brother was a drummer, so he was listening to this with a lot of intent. We were really young, and on that album the level of musicianship is absolutely amazing. It's one of those things that also inspired me to play my instrument the way I play."

"I spent the summer of 2002 in Los Angeles, interning for my uncle’s company. I rented a one-bedroom apartment with no furniture. Other than my inflatable mattress in the corner (which sprang a leak right away), it was just a big empty space. I had a suitcase, a guitar, and a laptop with me. I had no television and a superslow Internet connection, so watching DVDs on my laptop was my only source of entertainment. I happened to rent both of these films that summer, and they are still two of my favorites. The sloppiness and raw energy of The Harder They Come was so inspiring. Two-Lane Blacktop also had a great energy about it, but in a more deliberate, quiet way. Both films were convincing arguments for casting musicians as leads, regardless of their acting experience, which I have done several times and plan to continue doing. Most importantly, the films couldn’t be shaken. They crept into me and wouldn’t go away. My initial reaction to something is far less important to me than my feeling about it a month or a year later. These two are still with me."

"I spent the summer of 2002 in Los Angeles, interning for my uncle’s company. I rented a one-bedroom apartment with no furniture. Other than my inflatable mattress in the corner (which sprang a leak right away), it was just a big empty space. I had a suitcase, a guitar, and a laptop with me. I had no television and a superslow Internet connection, so watching DVDs on my laptop was my only source of entertainment. I happened to rent both of these films that summer, and they are still two of my favorites. The sloppiness and raw energy of The Harder They Come was so inspiring. Two-Lane Blacktop also had a great energy about it, but in a more deliberate, quiet way. Both films were convincing arguments for casting musicians as leads, regardless of their acting experience, which I have done several times and plan to continue doing. Most importantly, the films couldn’t be shaken. They crept into me and wouldn’t go away. My initial reaction to something is far less important to me than my feeling about it a month or a year later. These two are still with me."