I'm a rock-and-roll drummer, so my job is to create chaos.

Our music was meant to be motivational, we thought it would be interesting - when you have a breakup, or when you have hard times with your honey, you know, hard times in life, you can feel sad about it, or you can sometimes, take a dark time and make it, like, One lumen nicer, you know what I mean?

There's part of me that feels a privilege not to do music, but to do what everybody should be allowed to do, which is to do what you're driven to do.

I love love. Growing up, I always thought it was a state, and I'd wait for it to appear. Now I think it's an activity, a skill, something you strive to create. A constant conversation between emotion and imagination and flesh.

That's one of the things that always grabbed me about rock music: There's a song, and you know how it goes, and you can sort of predict it, but a lot is left up to chance and interaction.

When it's time to write a new song, anything that you thought you understood last time is pretty much pulverized.

I'm against American corporations buying politicians to remove limits to greed, capitalizing on other people's misery, actively creating misery on which to capitalize, financializing every moment of our enslaved lives. Then when China or somebody takes over, then it will be [them] doing those things that I'll be against.

It's weird to me to even say, I wrote this song. I never feel like I wrote it I feel like I heard it.

When it comes down to intuition, when it comes down to gut feelings about whether a song is right, you can get distracted with words, rationalization. There's nothing wrong with music school, but part of music school has to be the ability to forget all of it, too.

I've found that writing and playing music has so little to do with will, and so much to do with just finding what's there waiting for you.

I'm not unswayed by the opinions of others. I actually really value that, the idea that you can feel things the way somebody else might feel them is a really big part of doing music for me.

I play drums, and I'd recommend it to anyone, except maybe your neighbors. It's great exercise - physical, mental, emotional, and social. It takes deep concentration but also activates concentration. If you're doing it right, it's always just a little harder than what you can actually pull off.

I've learned it's a human responsibility to create fun, not just wait for it.

Usually if someone starts making universal claims, I tune right on out.

I try not to think about the drums themselves. If I do, I'll end up hitting myself in the head with a drumstick, or sustaining some weird injury.

What's great about going on tour is that it immediately unburdens me of those self-centered misconceptions. Because suddenly, with these songs you've been obsessed with for months, you're playing them for hundreds of people.

There were no rules. There's no guide to follow. I would just trust my instincts for some unknown reason. Something inside me would say, This guitar is not loud enough, and I wouldn't know why. You never know how to reach that point until you've reached it.