Here we are in our finery, playing at the venerable Gasworks. Deep in the throes of glam, we’d change into our sequins and studs in a tiny dressing area situated beneath a restroom, which more than once leaked through the ceiling, forcing us to go onstage redolent of urine.

I wouldn't go so far as to say that over the years I drove producers and engineers a little crazy, but... well... Yeah, let's say I did. I'd watch every little thing with an eagle eye, trying to understand and remember every flick of a switch, leaping on people if they forgot to do the smallest thing, demanding explanations for everything. I couldn't help myself, and I've always been the same. It's partly a matter of control, partly (depending on who we'd be working with) a lack of trust, but most important, it's a compulsion to exhaust every possibility to make the perfect record. I don't want to have to live with errors. Impossible, I know, but what's the effin' point of not shooting for the moon?