I grew up listening to a lot of Ray Charles and '60s rock, thanks to my father, and then my brothers got me in to KISS and whatnot, so I guess that's where I got my first taste for music.
The first music I ever got into was the '80s alternative bands that my brother listened to, like The Cure and The Smiths and R.E.M. and Fugazi. I can remember specifically saying The Cure was my favorite band back in second grade.
I was a folk singer who became totally over the edge with country music. I found my voice and style working with Gram Parsons. I learned how to listen to George Jones records and the Louvin Brothers.
Well, my sister played trumpet. Can you imagine having a sister blowing the trumpet around the house, Fred? And my brother, he played piano. Everybody was playing some kind of music, so it was natural for me to get into it.
My brother has a tendency to get quite lyrical when he writes music; he gets so romantic, it's borderline. I make it slightly more aggressive. I make the round corner a bit sharper.
My brother is the lifelong musician; he made the choice to do that when we were very, very young kids. I remember him playing in bands and listening to the music he was writing in the house - he's nine years older than me.
The '60s weren't my cup of tea. I never bought that philosophy that, you know, we're all brothers and that'll solve everything. And I never believed that music dictated the times. I always thought it reflected them.
My brother had a house in Paris. To it came many Western classical musicians. These musicians all made the same point: 'Indian music,' they said, 'is beautiful when we hear it with the dancers. On its own, it is repetitious and monotonous.'
When my brother called to inform me, on the morning of May 22, 2003, that our mother Caroline Oates had died suddenly of a stroke, it was a shock from which, in a way, I have yet to recover.
I would go visit my mom on Sundays, and my brother was working on stuff. I'd go in there and sing a little melody, then we started working with words and the next thing you know it was just born organically without really trying.
My older sister was at the cusp of new wave, and I had older brothers from my father's first marriage who were rock 'n' roll guys, so I was exposed to a lot of popular culture.
What I've learnt being an actor is that you've got to be lucky. I got less lucky, and nobody was interested. If a part came up, it would be for the main corpse's friend's brother who was having problems with his marriage.
If the present Mrs. Wogan has a fault - and I must tread carefully here - if she has a fault, this gem in the diadem of womanhood is a hoarder. She never throws anything out. Which may explain the longevity of our marriage.
Even the pre-schoolers are like, 'I watch you on The Jonas Brothers.' And my own kids. I have been in the greatest movies, even some for kids, and they were never impressed until I did 'Jonas L.A.'
Jake Sully: I see you, Brother... thank you. [kills prey] Jake Sully: Your spirit will now be with Eywa, but your body will remain for The People.
Jake: Uh, Bob, about the money for tonight. Bob: Oh, yeah, $200, and you boys drank $300 worth of beer.
Jake: Maury, you gotta come through for us. We need $5,000 fast. Maury Sline: $5,000? Who do you think you are, The Beatles?
[while they are driving around in the shopping mall with 2 police cars on their tail] Elwood: Baby clothes... Jake: This place has got everything.
Elwood: Hey, Jake. Jake. I gotta pull over. [he drives the Bluesmobile off the road, right through a guardrail]
Officer Mount: I don't believe it. It's that shitbox Dodge again! Trooper Daniel: Those bastards are ours now!
Reverend Cleophus James: Praise God! Elwood: And God bless the United States of America!
