Pop was to be popular music. Contemporary. Like Andy Warhol’s take on news events and celebrity. The big questions right next to the little ones. Our attempt to make the instant eternal. A series of Polaroids of this moment. To keep forever.

The very idea that your private thoughts or feelings are worth sharing with anyone outside your family or friends is already a kind of arrogance. Arrogance is the exit and entry point to the humiliation that art requires.

It was a line on our second album, October, that led from one record to the other. In 1981, a young man, I’d sung, “I can’t change the world but I can change the world in me.” Now, in my fifties, I found myself writing something different: “I can change the world, but I can’t change the world in me.

In the ancient-wisdom literature known as the book of Ecclesiastes, written several hundred years BC, there is a wanderer I borrowed from, a sojourner who discovers that sex, drugs, money, fame … are apparently not the promised land. Instead, says the writer — maybe Solomon — these are the vanities of vanities. The best thing in life, he discovers, is to enjoy your work. To do what you love. The promised land will always be somewhere else. I think I can grasp this.