The day you stop clapping at a gig is the day your soul dies.
I love performing. The more I do it, the more I grow into it.
I think diva is an inevitable outcome of the industry, and I don't think it reflects on the person at all. You take a normal human being, and basically, for 24 hours, seven days a week, apart from sleeping, you introduce them to places and things almost every minute that are brand new.
It was definitely hard when I first started, and by no means do I consider my live show to be where I want it to be; it will develop step by step for the rest of my life.
I have had a pretty hardcore crash course on living out of a suitcase. Some people take consistency in their lives for granted. When you have little to none, you discover it's kind of a nice thing.
I think a lot of artists get confused when people like their music; they think that means people know and like them. I'm sure there's an element of truth to that, but to me, the music I make is what I'm most proud of. I prefer to focus on that and for people to focus on the music, too.
In my eyes, I think it's important that if you're doing something you're proud of and that is genuine and authentic, you have a responsibility to bring that to as many people as possible, just for the sheer reason that there are musicians out there who are manufacturing emotions that aren't genuine.
I'm a humanist at heart: at the end of the day, we are all human beings.
What I like about Americans is if it's good music, that's the only thing that matters.
I second guess everything I do musically, and I often could spend hours on, say, one snare sound.
I remember a concert for a visiting girls school, and that was the first time I ever sang - it was always about girls - that was the main thing. But somewhere along the line, it became a cathartic thing.
All of my friends are really good dancers, which was initially why I never danced - we'd go out, and they would kill it, and I'd be like, 'Yeah, I'm just gonna sit at the bar.'