"You have to remember that this came out when I was 10 years old, and my brothers started smoking pot and listening to that all the time. So we lived a lot of our young intense lives with all that cool Led Zeppelin shit playing. But when I hear Led Zeppelin IV, I guess that's where I discovered that idea of a rock group. So for me, Led Zeppelin never really evokes anything other than these dudes playing this bad ass music. Of course, it's impossible to really play like Led Zeppelin. I mean, they're a total fabrication of sounds and moods and little arranging techniques, little quirks. Jimmy Page is a master of that. It's a magical combination of, what, eight songs? When you listen to them altogether, which we do quite often, I don't see how anyone who loves music could listen to that and not think, 'Fuck, that's cool'. Such cool drumming, such cool effects on the guitars. Robert Plant... it's a weird way he sings. People have accepted it now, but it's a weird screech. So high, with so much velocity, he's really singing at the peak of his energy. That is driving the music. You can't take Robert Plant's screeching out of that and get the same effect. It's just what the song is. That song 'Rock N Roll' [sings] "been a long time since I rock 'n rolled"... if you don't sing it like that, it doesn't have the same effect. He screams that shit with that freaky echo on his voice, it's like some truth from beyond. It's fucking amazing. It's still amazing."

"Blew my mind. I didn’t see it until I was middle-aged, after decades of thriving on the ongoing French New Wave. I thought of the New Wave as beginning in these subversive young Parisian cineastes’ love for American genre films. My jaw was dropped the whole length of Journey to see the sensibility and techniques of the New Wave appearing first in this Italian flick (though English-language, starring George Sanders and Ingrid Bergman). Later I read that Truffaut called it the “first modern movie,” and I believe he’s right. I haven’t researched, so don’t know if this is a commonplace, but, on a side note, it’s interesting to consider the parallels between Journey and Godard’s Contempt. They’re both about a couple whose marriage is failing, who are foreigners on a visit to Italy, where their stiff estrangement reaches a head amid the vital, pagan-slash-Catholic ancient culture of the area around Naples. Noble, erotically charged, millennia-old statuary reverently track-circled to swelling music. Local color, and travelogue landmarks of aesthetic and mythologically poetic power, integrated naturally into the story (almost Hitchcockian in a way, except with an emotional and intellectual justification). The most groundbreaking thing about it, though, is the way it’s not exactly a story, but rather a situation, depicted in fragments and episodes—the emotional situation of a couple, displaced within a continuously intruding, alien or disorienting environment, and one that keeps us conscious of death and history. A lot is pointedly artificial about it—to me the dialogue all feels like exposition, and is delivered that way, as presentation of the situation, rather than anything natural—or at least frankly cinema, but at the same time it feels like life in a way that movies hadn’t before."