"When I was in Junior High, I met this guy and he had a cassette with Minor Threat on one side and The Exploited on the other. He left it at my house, and I had a Walkman, so I popped it in as I was walking to school. I heard the first chord of “Filler” and then I stopped and turned around. I didn’t go to school that day. I listened to that cassette and I was ‘What is this? This is awesome, this is what I need right now. These people are speaking my language, and they’re young like me as well.’ That’s when I thought I could maybe write a song, record it and put it on a record. That’s all I thought. I didn’t want to be a famous rock star but maybe I could do that DIY stuff. Not like the rock stars who were bigger than life - it was hard to aspire to that - but this other stuff? Yeah, I could do this. Plus, I thought that girls would think it was pretty cool if I played the guitar and I was in a band. So I started a band and this song and the first Minor Threat record was a game changer for me. It also started my record collecting phase. After I got into Minor Threat, I got into Dischord Records - I wanted everything on that label, so I spent years collecting that stuff. I still have all the singles; I might still have it all of it. That band had a huge effect on me that led me to want to write and play music, but also it was a club I could belong to. I was part of something with it – I could put on a leather jacket and help my teenage angst."

"I’ve always been a fan of Miguel. I remember listening to Kaleidoscope Dream in a hotel room in New York; there’s this real sexy, urbane quality to that album. His next record, Wildheart, has a real lo-fi sultriness—there’s this weird disparity between those two things, because people think of sultry as being writ-large, with this polished quality, but when you give it this bedroom-recording quality, it adds a sensitivity and a vulnerability that Miguel just has in spades. I love the way he spells out the titles of his songs in lowercase, too. He has a way of being sweetly diminutive and then larger than life. “Told You So,” from his new album, War & Leisure, really grabbed me right away. I first heard it when I was in my bedroom getting ready to go out, which is really important music listening for me. It always feels like a motivational soundtrack and returns me to my teenage self: creating an imagined narrative that usually never comes to fruition. I always think the getting-ready part somehow supersedes the experience itself. It’s better than the party. Even when I’m alone, when I’m still in the realm of fantasy of what the night could be, it’s always better than what the night is. And I’m definitely just talking about going out to very pedestrian events—it’s not like I’m going out to some wild dance party. But music has always accompanied those moments of trying on different clothes, looking at myself in front of the mirror, trying to do something even remotely reasonable with makeup—it always feels aspirational, and buoying. That was the first time I heard “Told You So.” I really thought, “This will be my going-out song for the next six months.” And it has been."