Q: Now, here is where I really begin to question your intentions.
DM:Yeah, I can see that. Not sure if I can explain this one really.
Q: You were quoted – correct me if I’m wrong here by the way – as saying this track with it’s ridiculously long, some what say pompous, pointless title came to you in a dream.
DM: Yeah, sounds like fuckin Jim Morrison-esque, precious artiste bullshit right?
DM: And it was without the aid of drugs I might add. This was a lucid dream, something flew into my unconscious mind and settled there, when i awoke the dream was born into this, it poured out, a gold rush of musical ideas or something.
Q: Musical gold rush? you want to keep that analogy in print?
DM: maybe not. sounds gauche dunnit?
Q: excuse me?
DM: sorry, workin class diction resurfaces from time to time. you can take the estate out of the man etc…
Q: describe this track in your own words.
DM: Bangin! (chuckles to himself, no on else in the room laughs) Transcendental. Nocturnal rock. soundtrack to an unmade sofia coppola, michael mann film, my bloody valentine, me fucking around with a bottle slide effect and hey presto!!! as bobby davro used to say.
Q: jesus! I think we’ve got enough.
DM: fair enough. now do me a favour and do one! go on! fuck off! have to ingest me daily peyote & cocaine cocktail. get me in the creative head space.
Q: thank you for your time. i won’t keep you from your work. (real sarcastic tone like)
DM: ah, I was joshin with you man…I’m teetotal me!( his self amused, desperate laughter is as loud a thunderclap from god, a stampede of dancing elephants on the savannah room; like a virus, everyone else present in the room erupts into gales of kneeslapping laughter. A personal assistant almost chokes to death with the mirth of it all.)