Everything becomes magnified at night. Sounds travel in a different way, it's dark, and everything seems far more spooky.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
My dark sound could be heard across a room clearer than somebody with a reedy sound. It had more projection. My sound always seemed to fill a room.
In the country the darkness of night is friendly and familiar, but in a city, with its blaze of lights, it is unnatural, hostile and menacing. It is like a monstrous vulture that hovers, biding its time.
All action takes place, so to speak, in a kind of twilight, which like a fog or moonlight, often tends to make things seem grotesque and larger than they really are.
I've always been drawn to spooky things, to the unusual, to things that are dark but in a friendly way.
Television knows no night. It is perpetual day. TV embodies our fear of the dark, of night, of the other side of things.
When you hear that howl alone at night in the forest, it's one of the most frightening sounds you'll ever hear.
Sometimes they keep us in the dark, but it's TV, so sometimes they keep us in the dark because even they don't know yet. You know what I mean? So, it sort of develops as it goes along and according to various needs that arise.
We've always had a dark atmosphere to our performances, so it sort of developed along those ways.
There is no greater mystery to me than that of light traveling through darkness.
We are visual creatures. Visual things stay put, whereas sounds fade.