I think, it is a challenge to get critics or whoever to see past what you wear and makeup and the way you look and just concentrate on the music.
In the age of the mp3, you gotta make the package special, something that's worth owning.
I think that there's a proliferation of music that is done entirely in the bedroom for an Internet audience, but there's no way in hell that you could actually kill off a live show, and its importance in the creation of music - it's just impossible.
I just reached the point where I realised, I need to stop repeating myself if I'm ever actually going to enjoy the music I'm creating.
I think it's become much harder because I'm more afraid of every step I take. I'm more aware of its ramifications, I'm more aware of the less creative aspects of music - like the business-side of things for example.
I became very aware of what I was used to relying on, almost tricks. It's funny because I could feel myself creating a formula and sticking with it and I just told myself, 'That's not me, that's not really how I am, god forbid I have developed a formula - it's music; songwriting. ' It's heretic, honestly, in the church of music, so I had to unwind a few tricks in order to get past it.
I put myself in the studio and I really made sure to say, 'Well, if I would normally reach for a trumpet, why don't I reach for the next nearest instrument instead?'
Going up north with the redwoods and driving along the coast, it's got everything, man. It's got the desert, the mountains, and the ocean. It's beautiful.
JavaScript is the only language that I'm aware of that people feel they don't need to learn before they start using it.
Beneath our feet a fairy pathway flows, The grass still glitters in the summer breeze, The dusky wood, and distant copse appear, And that lone stream, upon whose chequerd face We mused, when noon-rays made the pebbles gleam, Is mirrord to the mind: though all around Be rattling hoofs and roaring wheels, the eye Is wandring where the heart delights to dwell.
The last mad throb of red just as it turns green; the ultimate shriek of orange calling all the blues of heaven for relief and support. . . each color almost regains the fun it must have felt within itself on forming the first rainbow.