I’m an advocate of ‘it’s not what you are, it’s who you are.’
If anyone besides famous people knew what it was like to be a famous person, they would never want to be famous.
I’m a fan of the Strokes, so my big fantasy was that one day I would get to sing with them.
I’m really visually stimulated more than anything. I don’t really listen to music. I’m more into watching telly or watching movies and visual art.
I love watching reality TV, but being part of making it was just demoralizing.
I don’t read reviews or interviews or anything, just because I’m afraid; If I believed the good, then I’d believe the bad, and there will be bad.
I don’t need to be rich anymore; I don’t need to be a millionaire.
Help, I have done it again I have been here many times before Hurt myself again today And the worst part is There’s no-one else to blame.
I guess I felt straight when I was allowed to get married. Now I feel queerer because I’m not. It’s the only thing that’s changed. I wouldn’t measure it in icon status or how much my demographic has changed, but in the rage I feel, and being not equal.
I liked myself much more before I got famous. I was much friendlier and had more energy.
I don’t know anything about the history of music.
I love visual gags and gimmicks; I love them.
When I was 10, my parents really valued success in the arts, and I thought if I was a famous ‘something artistic,’ that they would love me more.
Like when I’m singing live I can’t hear myself. I’m just listening to the rest of the band. To listen to my voice, it doesn’t even feel like it’s me.
I’ve got thick skin and an elastic heart.
Being hunted, paparazzi-style, doesn’t appeal to me.
People call me for the ballads. Apparently that’s where I’ve been pigeonholed. But it’s really interesting and really fun. It’s my favourite part of the job, writing.
I liked when I was naive and I thought it was just about making good music.
There’s time limits on how long people’s attention spans will work. There’s six weeks in each territory that you’re really famous, then you, thank god, disappear again.
There are probably five songs in the world that I get excited about when I hear them on the radio.
People aren’t honest about the horrors of fame. The downsides are so overwhelming that, for me, there is no payoff.