Look out, people. Take to the hills. David Gray is back, and he's angry:
There was this waning of whatever vital energy had inspired me to be creative.
So mentally I was stepping into the void and getting rid of the comfort of what I knew. The previous couple of records have been much more inward and introspective - they were interior scenes of my emotional world.
With this one, I've kicked the front door down and started roaming the streets like a Magnum photographer taking a snapshot of anything I can find.
If I can't be loving every second of this, then someone please shoot me. It's got life flooding through his veins. There's grit, there's gristle. I don't think this is a record of the sensitive singer-songwriter, I think this record comes out and grabs you and looks you squarely in the eye.
I know, I know: I've got legal running through if the offer to be shot constitutes a living will or not.
The thought of Gray roaming the streets like a Magnum photographer - rather than smugly prancing like a siamese kitten that's just had some salmon - is eye-popping, certainly.
There's a spiritual force running through me, the force of being alive and unafraid and loving it, and not caring about the past or fame or success or the pigeonhole they stick you in.
He's been writing songs while talking like this. That's the worrying thing.
Gray is guilty about the modern world:
We all feel guilty - we're brought up that way. Think about all the suffering people! Think about them for once, you fool, luxuriating with your M&S meals for one! Think about the starving! You can always feel guilty at any moment of any day.
To be fair, some of those Marks and Spencers portions are a bit mean, but I don't think you'd actually be starving after eating one.
People can create a false impression. There's nothing I can do about it. I'm not trying to destroy an image that the media's created of me as some boring dull person who's constantly moaning and writing these sensitive withering songs in the corner.
No. You're clearly not, David.