But what you realise after you’ve been in the business for a while is that people develop opinions about you that don’t have anything to do with your music, they like or dislike you for a million reasons, they like or dislike you for your last record.

You aren’t really writing about what you did; you’re writing about how you feel.

When you’re young and you play music, you have a peer group, you come out of a scene. There’s a lot of people you know, and then you have some success, and it all goes away.

I find that truly heartbreaking that, like, it’s such a common, constant thing in people’s lives – a brutal abuse of people by other people, and it’s just accepted.

That’s where the songs come from: that’s what I’d most want people to understand. What sounds good or looks good, that’s nothing. The only worthwhile thing in art is seeing someone else’s heart.

Over and over again in my life, I find closeness to other people and proximity to other people really painful; that’s part of my mental illness, social anxiety. Closeness to other people is really hard, but it’s also a shame because it’s all you want too. But it doesn’t always work.

My life isn’t necessarily more important than anyone else’s: I’m just better in talking about it.

For me, songwriting is something like breathing: I just do it. But that doesn’t mean you’re fantastic.

I’ve been playing music most of my life.

Time and time again I can’t please myself.