【翻译】DC采访Radiohead主唱Thom Yorke

ANIEL CRAIG: I've never interviewed anyone before, so if I ask anything stupid, then just tell me to fuck off.
THOM YORKE: Okay ... Sure. [laughs] You're just outside New York, are you?
CRAIG: Yeah. I'm way upstate New York and sort of having a weekend. You're in L.A.?
YORKE: Yeah. I'm rehearsing with the band.
CRAIG: Atoms for Peace.
YORKE: Yup.
CRAIG: You're about to go on the road. Is it just the U.S. or all over?
YORKE: We're going to go to Europe first, actually. We kick off in Paris. Sounds glamorous, doesn't it?
CRAIG: I was reading somewhere that you're just going to play smaller venues with Atoms for Peace than you would with Radiohead. Is that right?
YORKE: Well, kind of. I mean, people don't really know who we are. It's been a weird build-up because in calling it not me—in calling it another thing—people don't necessarily make the connection, which is kind of mad. So it's been sort of like starting again with a band and trying to say to people, "This is this thing." And then I can't really explain it either because it's not really a band. So it's more of a venues thing because we didn't quite know how it was going to work out. Some of the venues are small and some aren't.
CRAIG: Are you hedging your bets, though? Because I'm sure people are going to flock to see you. I know that I'm going to. Are you doing all this because you feel like you can control it all more this way? Or does it just feel like the most natural thing to do?
YORKE: I don't know if it feels natural. I mean, basically, it's one of those things where I've got no idea what's going on really—apart from the idea of having decided to do it at all. But you just can't take anything for granted—and I'm glad I haven't taken anything for granted because it's sort of like putting on a brand-new face and still expecting people to recognize you. That's how it's felt. And it's an odd situation to just sort of start again without the big Radiohead flag, which guarantees this insane level of scrutiny. It's nice to take it off, but it sort of throws you a bit as well.
CRAIG: Aside from the collaborative aspect of it—and, I'm guessing, all of the wonderful things that come along with playing with a bunch of new people—is there something within you that wants to try other things because you feel like you need to do that in order to keep being creative and moving forward?
YORKE: That's absolutely it. I mean, try to imagine this: I've essentially been writing music and playing with the same guys since I was 16.
CRAIG: I can't really imagine it, but I can intellectualize it and guess what goes along with that.
YORKE: And you're all boys and you've all gone to a boys' school ... [laughs]
CRAIG: How did music happen for you? I know how acting happened for me. Suddenly this thing appeared in my life, and I knew it was all I wanted to do.
YORKE: How did acting happen for you?
CRAIG: I grew up near Liverpool, and there was a really good theater scene there, so we'd go to the theater a lot. My mum knew directors and actors and people like that, so I'd get to hang around afterwards. That was very informative because I got to see the workings of it and how it all came together. I think that sort of ingrained itself in me. Then I hit 16, and I knew I wanted to do it. But we're talking Liverpool in the early '80s, so everything was as depressed as it could possibly be. Thankfully, though, I had a mother who was prepared to kick me out the door and say, "You've got to go and get on with this." But in terms of music for you, and getting together with the guys and something happening, was that apparent right away? Or was it something that just happened over a length of time?
YORKE: Well, I had a similar thing to you, in a way, in that as soon as I was presented with music, that was it—that was what I wanted to do.
CRAIG: Was there music in your family at all?
YORKE: No, no. My poor parents could not get their heads around it at all. They have now—
CRAIG: Just now.
YORKE: Yeah, just last week. I wasn't really able to read music or anything, but I just knew that I was very into it. The first teacher I met when I was at school when I was 11 was the guy who ran the music department.

CRAIG: This was at Abingdon. Was there a good music department at Abingdon?
YORKE: Yeah. Basically, I hid in the music department the whole time I was there. The rest of the system of the school—and I see this with my son now—was set up in a way that was very contrary to how I was built. I was constantly getting in trouble in small and annoying ways. So I hid in the music and the art department at every opportunity I could. I was so happy there because ... Do you remember Thomas Dolby?
CRAIG: Yeah. He was an Abingdon old boy, wasn't he?
YORKE: Yeah, and one of my first experiences in the music department was walking into one of the music rooms and there was Thomas Dolby, before he was Thomas Dolby, with this synthesizer that he'd built and all of this stuff. I was like, I want that in my life.
CRAIG: The Beatles were obviously a big deal in Liverpool, but with the traditions of bands like the Beatles and the Animals, the music scene in the northwest and the northeast of England were also seen as a way out. Music was seen as a way of succeeding—but also as a way of escaping from something. Was rebellion part of what drew you to music? Or was it just this strong feeling that you knew you had to do it?
YORKE: Oh, it was totally both. I mean, it was quite a weird situation in Oxford at the time because the only band that ever really happened back then was this little tiny indie band called Talulah Gosh, and they were about the opposite of rebelling. They wore anoraks and were super-straight and played this very strange indie music. But I would go to their shows, and there would be blood everywhere—people moshing, people fighting. And then this little dinky indie band onstage ... It was not like a normal sort of "We've got to get out of here!" thing.
CRAIG: The '80s being the '80s, do you think that was a feeling countrywide in England at that time—that sort of thing of getting together in a mosh pit and just getting crushed? I mean, I remember doing that and it would just be the most exhilarating thing. It didn't even really matter how good the band was—if someone could keep a beat, then you were prepared to jump up and down and smash around.
YORKE: Yeah, that whole bit was about just sort of going AWOL for the weekend and not telling anyone else where you were and finding yourself in these bizarre situations—which I'm sure I'm about to experience with my kids. But really, for me, a lot of the time that was kind of a pain in the ass as well, because it went with the territory and you couldn't get away from it. I also had this peculiar thing where I hadn't figured out that bands and girls went together. I went to a boys' school, and I didn't realize that most guys join bands because they wanted to get girls. I was not really focused on that the way everybody else was.
CRAIG: Was that difficult for you?
YORKE: [laughs] I was just sort of geeky and not thinking about that. And with Radiohead, I'd been in other bands and done bits and bobs, but when I first met those guys, they were more serious—especially Jonny [Greenwood], who was younger, but he was this absolute musical child prodigy. He could pick up anything and play it straight off. He was in my brother's band at the time.
CRAIG: Did you steal him, then?
YORKE: Basically, yeah. [laughs] I don't think we've really settled it yet.
CRAIG: How did you get interested in the whole aspect of things? Were you into computers as a kid?
YORKE: Well, I came to the electronic stuff late because our band really was in the wave of rejecting a lot of it. When we were starting in '91, '92, there were some interesting things happening in Britain with electronic music—Warp Records was putting out some crazy shit. But a lot of the exciting things that were happening at the time were guitar music, and as band, that's where we went. So we came back to the computer stuff later on. There was this interesting thing when we started out as a band where you had to go to a studio, so you were presented with a producer and an audience on the other side of the glass, and they called you and said, "Can you do that bit again? Can you try a different guitar?" And I always found that a bit weird because I felt that I should be with those people, in their room, doing that bit.
CRAIG: Not that you were trying to control the situation at all ...
YORKE: No. It was just like, "Who the hell are you?" And then computers got to a point where you could just record directly into them. So when that happened, funny enough, I thought, Right, I'm going to learn how to do this because then I can understand that part. And luckily, we were working with our friend Nigel [Godrich], with whom we still work, and he was really into the idea that the areas were blurred. You know, as musicians we're quite technical as well—especially Jonny and Colin [Greenwood]. I think Jonny actually learned how to program in C language along with my brother when he was, like, 12. I remember walking from my brother's room in the morning and he was reading a book on how to program machine code. It was insane. That's the kind of school we went to. I remember that the kids in school were freaking out when they could make the computer print the word "pee" or something.

CRAIG: We had computer studies at our school, but that's about as far as we got. I suppose one thing that's always fascinated me is that thing where you're a band and you want to start recording and you get a label and a producer, and then there's that pressure to go out there and really toil. Is that something that's absolutely necessary to do—especially with new material, where you've just got to get it out there in front of an audience until you refine it and get it in shape?
YORKE: Well, we had an odd situation, really, because we went off to college and sort of put the band on hold. And then when we came back from college, we moved into a house together and started doing a few shows, and the next thing we knew, we'd come back from rehearsals or from a gig and the answering machine would have all these A&R men from these record companies trying to get a hold of us. It kind of just happened without us even noticing.
CRAIG: Did that excite you? Or were you suspicious? I'm asking because I know how I've felt in situations where suddenly it seems like things are starting to happen. I get nervous and sort of like, "Where's this going? Where's this going?" I still do.
YORKE: I was straightaway suspicious, like, "All you people just got on the program at once?" Because that's obviously how it works rather than having that feeling of, "You know, maybe I am brilliant after all." Instead, I'd say, "I can't trust any of you people because you obviously all move in a flock." But then we met the guys who were running EMI at the time in Britain, and walked into the offices of Parlophone and there were gold discs from the Beatles and Queen and everybody, and it was kind of like, "Shit, man. This is where we belong ..." They had Pink Floyd as well.
CRAIG: Are you a big Pink Floyd fan?
YORKE: Not necessarily of all of their music but more of the fact that they were allowed to do just whatever the hell they wanted to do. And the guy who was running the company at the time had worked with them and he said to us, "I don't expect you to do great things straight away, but I've got a good feeling about you chaps, so you just take your time."
CRAIG: That's an incredibly good thing to hear.
YORKE: I know. It was a big deal for us. It all changed eventually and got horrible and corporate and bought by an idiot. But at the time—
CRAIG: There were good people around.
YORKE: Yeah. It was pretty exciting. It was bizarre as well because record companies in those days were huge, huge empires.
CRAIG: They were still very much in control of the music industry.
YORKE: Yeah—and so old-school. They owned Abbey Road, and there were these flats in Abbey Road where the head of EMI would let us stay, and he would fly his Daimler or whatever it was—his big, black limousine—to L.A. when he came for meetings.
CRAIG: [laughs] Jesus Christ.
YORKE: I'm not kidding. The expense accounts ...
CRAIG: The good old days.
YORKE: Oh, man. And when we joined, in L.A., there were all these dodgy hair bands and hookers and cocaine ... It was all still going on like nothing had changed. We were like, "Wow. Really?"
CRAIG: And to think of that, obviously, in terms of the music industry and where it is now and the hiding it's taken in the past 10 years ...
YORKE: Which, to me, was much deserved—frankly—considering.
CRAIG: You think it's for the better?
YORKE: Well, the only reason that the record companies still had any money at all is because they'd taken all the stuff they'd originally put out on vinyl and they found a new format, the CD format, for which they could charge double and turn the treble up and everyone would get it. So all of their music they resold again—that's how they made a fortune. They didn't actually have many new artists because they hadn't invested in them. We were an ... What is it? Anathema?
CRAIG: Anomaly maybe? I like anathema, though. I think it works as well.
YORKE: But EMI had actually stuck by us. We were lucky. They said, "Take your time." They stuck by us when we put out OK Computer. They stuck by us when we put out Kid A, though I think they were kind of getting stressed at that point. [laughs] But it was very much contrary to what else was going on within our industry. And then, at a certain point, it just started to feel not like a nice place to be. So, to me, there's no loss in the record industry as it was then disappearing, other than that they've taken a lot of the revenue for artists with it. The film industry is a bit like that as well, isn't it?

CRAIG: Well, I think in the sense that everybody has been caught. It's that crazy thing where everybody has been predicting for years how the industry is becoming more digitized and things are becoming more freely available and planning for how all that is going to work. Then they turn around and go, "Oh, god. We didn't see that coming!" And you're like, "Hang on a second. This has been in the cards for so long." I don't know that it will ever recover in a real way. Things are definitely changing. You know, I'm lucky. I make huge, bloody great movies that on the whole are, thankfully, successful. But that's the rarity. What's more interesting now is that the industry is freed up so that anybody can make a movie. I mean, if you've got two Canon 5Ds and the wherewithal, you can shoot a movie and cut it and edit it and get it out there.
YORKE: But then, much like the music industry, the big players still control how the work is distributed.
CRAIG: Things like iTunes, do you mean?
YORKE: I guess so. I mean, you can't go past them and you can't go around them, so it's still in this weird situation where, technically, anybody can make something.
CRAIG: But unless you can distribute it and advertise it, which is the big spend ... I'm sort of a nerd because I just play everything on vinyl now.
YORKE: Really?
CRAIG: Yeah. I mean, I play music in the car and I've got my iPod connected, but every time I crank up the volume, it just kind of distorts. So I went and got myself a decent record player and started buying all this vinyl. It's funny listening to an album again from beginning to end, where you get up, turn it over. I think I tend to listen to less music that way, but when I do, I listen both more intently and more intensely.
YORKE: The form of the album is not something that is really looked at in the same way anymore—which, when that was first happening, I thought was quite cool, because I was sick of the restriction of the album. But now I hate it because I feel like it's very difficult to get moved by an artist unless you are prepared to immerse yourself in what they're doing completely.
CRAIG: Well, that's true of music or any kind of art really. You have to put a little bit of work in.
YORKE: Yeah, and the fact that you can just scroll through all these different peoples' work at one time like that is kind of hard. But there's an upside to the digital thing from my point of view because I find that I have access to all this wacky, weird-ass dance-music stuff that I just can't go into a shop and buy on vinyl. It's much quicker and more fun when I'm DJ'ing to just turn up and have a little memory stick with it all ready to go. So there are good things about it.
CRAIG: You DJ'ed at Occupy London a couple of years ago.
YORKE: Yeah, I did it with 3D from Massive Attack.
CRAIG: We don't have to talk about politics if you don't want to, but I was wondering where your interest in something like Occupy—as well as politics and activism in the larger sense—comes from? Is it the anti-capitalist element? What is it about it that feeds you?
YORKE: I think it's always been there with me. It was there right from school.
CRAIG: Do you think that has anything to do with growing up in Britain? I only ask because of how I feel. Socialism has become a dirty word—especially in the United States. We grew up in a country, though, that had a very strong socialist principle, but one born out of looking after people who otherwise might fall through the cracks.
YORKE: That was born out of the Second World War. The welfare state in Britain was this huge experiment—it had never been done before. I've just been reading about that—it's very interesting because it was all tied up with the freeing of the markets. The rolling back of regulation of the markets was, to some extent, why fascism reared up in Europe anyway. So after the Second World War, it was pretty much a given—not just in Europe but everywhere—that the markets had to be regulated.
CRAIG: One of the simplest quotes that someone once gave me was "Money has no conscience." It's a classic thing where you can believe in deregulation, but does that mean you believe in 8-year-olds stitching footballs? Because that's what the market believes in if someone's prepared to do it. Now, a pure capitalist might maintain that the market will police itself—and maybe that was true in certain smaller areas. Maybe a city like London was built upon that principle.
YORKE: I don't know about London. There was this documentary recently about London. You know why the city of London has become so powerful in the last 20 years? Because of offshores. We have all the old end-places of the empire and all these little islands that we are still linked to, which is how we do the offshore thing. That's why so much money flows through the city of London—because of these weird little loopholes where money can just shift through, invisible, into the Cayman Islands. But it was during Thatcher and Reagan's era that they really started to free up the markets to this level. Anyway ...

CRAIG: Anyway ... With Atoms for Peace, you've talked about the idea of moving on, which is an important thing. But Radiohead is still around—and I hope to god they are. Do you have a plan? Or do you just let it all happen?
YORKE: God, I so wish I had a plan. [laughs] The only plan that we've had recently was to take a year off, which was something that Ed [O'Brien] wanted to do. Ed wanted to go live somewhere else and switch off.
CRAIG: And have a life.
YORKE: Something like that, yeah. Just like, "Hey, how about we have 12 months where we don't commit to anything at all?"—which is an interesting prospect.
CRAIG: And were you able to do that successfully?
YORKE: Well, of course what does muggins here do but commit to something else.
CRAIG: [laughs] Well, I can't criticize that. Did the rest of the band manage to step back? Or have they got other things they're doing while you're doing Atoms for Peace?
YORKE: They're all doing bits and bobs. Jonny has his film stuff as usual, which he really enjoys. Phil [Selway] is doing a record. I just can't ever stop. Even if I stop, I'm very excited about the idea of someone saying to me, "How about you go do something for a few weeks?" Even if it's only for a couple of days, it's like, "Yeah, great," because there's always this mountain of unfinished chords and ideas and words. It's always exciting because if everything else is going to shit, I've always got that.
CRAIG: Are lyrics a starting point? Or have you constantly got tunes in your head that you're playing around with?
YORKE: It's pretty much always tunes or melodic ideas or rhythms.
CRAIG: On Wikipedia, it said that [Queen guitarist] Brian May was a huge influence on you initially, so I stopped reading there.
YORKE: [laughs] Yeah, well, that's too weird to believe.
CRAIG: I can change it for you if you want. But obviously, world music and dance music are big influences for you right now.
YORKE: At the moment, world music and dance music and rhythmic stuff and stuff that's not just G-to-A-to-B-to-E minor ...
CRAIG: You just described my guitar playing.
YORKE: I'm really into stuff, though, that sends you off a different way when you're trying to write a vocal or things like that. But at the same time, I still really enjoy coming up with satisfying chord progressions that bring up emotions in you every time you play them. That's what I was brought up on.
CRAIG: And that's probably not going to ever stop being a part of what you do.
YORKE: No. It's just like anything else where you feel like, "Okay, maybe I'm starting to get good at this ..." That's usually a good time to get away from it. If you're actually starting to enjoy it too much, then it's probably shit. [laughs]
CRAIG: Is that an English attitude? I feel that way about things—a healthy cynicism to make sure that nothing remains static.
YORKE: It's like a little alarm bell in your brain.
CRAIG: Does that mean that you leave parties early?
YORKE: Ah ...
CRAIG: No comment. Fair enough.
YORKE: What about you?
CRAIG: I'd like to be last to arrive, first to leave, but I've never managed to do that once.
YORKE: Even now, I stay to the end and watch the car crashes happen. But I'm not the car crasher anymore.
CRAIG: Oxfordshire is still home for you. How do you manage everything family-wise now?
YORKE: Much like with you, I have to spend a lot of time away. You spend your time committed to being in other places. Personally, I've become resigned to the fact that I come in and out.
CRAIG: And they forgive you, your family, for that?
YORKE: Oh, yes, totally. But, you know, it is a strange thing. Your kids respond to whatever is normal, and if they don't have a problem with it and you don't have a problem with it ...

CRAIG: Do you take them with you on tour?
YORKE: Sometimes. I mean, a bit I don't like, for example, is security guards taking them out into the middle of a crowd with 30,000 people. Something about that makes me a little flinchy—the idea that they see all these people going a bit weird or crazy or whatever, and they associate that with me ... But they don't. It's funny because they're completely immune to it because they've never seen anything else and it doesn't mean what it might mean to their friends. It's just like, "This is what Daddy does." So it's nice.
CRAIG: Did you struggle with the ephemera of it all? You know, you're in a band playing music and then suddenly you're the biggest thing ever—was that a struggle?
YORKE: It was a struggle. I guess everything went bang during OK Computer, and I didn't really notice until such a point that I just started to become strangely catatonic. I'd come off stage and could not speak at all—and that was not just the exposure to the fame side of things. It was more like I had no concept, no understanding, of what the hell it was that these people wanted. I'd go onstage doing this thing, trying to fill this arena that I can't fill because I don't understand what this is. It's like you're given a job that's beyond you. And it's taken me years to realize what works in those big situations.
CRAIG: Are you enjoying what you're doing now?
YORKE: Yeah. Around that time of OK Computer, I had a series of mini breakdowns where the public persona—this thing, this face, this person who writes this music ... I would walk past that person in the mirror or listen to that person playing guitar and I didn't know who they were. It was very odd, you know? You must have had that a little.
CRAIG: No, I completely relate to that. Did you talk to anybody? Was there anybody in the business who you could ask about it?
YORKE: Yes. Michael Stipe was around and he was amazing. He's my really good friend still. He told me, "When it feels bad, just shut down. Be there but just shut down." And then he also said, "Come on. Let's go and get drunk with U2," and things like that.
CRAIG: And so you did.
YORKE: And so I did.
CRAIG: Do you think it helped to go off and be a little more rock-'n'-roll and have that experience? I'm talking from my own point of view now, but isn't there that moment when you suddenly realize that if you're not at least enjoying what you're doing or getting some pleasure from it, then what's the point?
YORKE: Absolutely. And then there's something else that happened when the kids started coming along. When you're a parent, then you still have to commit to this concept of, "Okay, I'm basically out of action now for three months." So if you don't commit to doing that when you commit to doing it—and then if you don't enjoy what you're doing when you go and do it—you really are screwed because—
CRAIG: It's a lot of effort.
YORKE: It's a lot of effort, and you're not coming back with anything. You're coming back damaged, rather than coming back and going, "Wow, that was fun. When can we do that again?" We've had lots of discussions in Radiohead about this over the past few years about, like, "Well, hang on. Who is driving this?" It's a disaster if it's the thing itself driving it. So we're going to choose to carry on. We're all big lads now—we're all over 40—and we've all got a hell of a lot of other shit going on, so if we choose to do it, we're basically doing it for ourselves and being selfish about it because otherwise we'll go stark-raving mad.
CRAIG: Have you always managed to communicate well with the other guys? When you started off with Radiohead, the idea was that you all had an equal part in the band and shared equally in the profits, is that right?
YORKE: Pretty much.
CRAIG: Do you think that's stood you in good stead?
YORKE: I hope so. It's difficult sometimes. You're used to being in a band, and there are roles that people can play or not play—someone is not involved in this other tune and they are involved in this tune and things like that. It's a difficult balance, but ultimately it's this weird creative framework, like a collaboration thing. Without everyone there, it's not what it is—which sounds daft, I know. But that's what's interesting about working with a different band as well. You suddenly realize that you can't really play with a bunch of guys if there's all this extra shit flying around. You have to trust them. From what I know from talking to acting types—like yourself—you have a similar thing, maybe not so much in film, but in theater. If you don't trust everybody on stage with you, then you're in trouble, right?
CRAIG: Yeah. Or you can fuck with them, which is another way to go—and it might be fun but it doesn't usually produce good stuff.
YORKE: I bet you're really scary when you fuck with them, aren't you?

CRAIG: [laughs] I wish. I'm very subtle. Maybe too subtle.
YORKE: Oh, really?
CRAIG: But look, I come from a theater background, which was about a collaboration, and it's the biggest thrill I still get. I'm on a $200 million movie with a bunch of really talented people, and still, when things go wrong, fixing them and making them work is part of the pleasure. I get a big kick out of that.
YORKE: It's hard sometimes. When you're making a record it can be ... I mean, to be fair, though, I do most of that with Nigel.
CRAIG: Right. You've been working with Nigel for forever.
YORKE: Since OK Computer. We had a brief sabbatical at one point, but that didn't really work out. [laughs] But I'm the same in the sense that I get so bored when I'm working on my own musically. Technically speaking, one can work on music on their own—and people do—but I don't find that very stimulating. Even if it's only just one thing, one idea that someone else throws in my direction in the process of making something, it will make a massive difference. It takes you out of whatever creative patterns you have in your head, which is totally essential for me to doing anything that might actually be interesting and needs to involve other people.
CRAIG: So, at the end of an interview, people will sometimes say to me, "Is there anything I haven't asked you that you want to talk about?"
YORKE: Yeah, and they get confused when you say no.
CRAIG: It's like, "Why would I volunteer stuff? I'm British ... Let's go!" [Yorke laughs] So I won't ask you that question. But this was fun.
YORKE: It was good, man.
CRAIG: Take care, and hopefully I'll see you at the end of the year. Good luck with the tour.
YORKE: Thanks very much. I'll need it.
DANIEL CRAIG WILL STAR ALONGSIDE HIS WIFE, RACHEL WEISZ, THIS FALL IN THE BROADWAY PLAYBETRAYAL, WHICH WAS WRITTEN BY TOM STOPPARD AND DIRECTED BY MIKE NICHOLS.

DC: 我从没做过采访，所以如果我问了任何蠢事，叫我滚蛋就行
TY：好的。。没问题，（笑）你就在纽约附近，是么？
DC：是啊，我在纽约北部，算是渡周末吧。你在洛杉矶？
TY：恩，我在和乐队排练。
DC：Atoms for Peace.
TY：没错。
DC：你马上就要开始巡演了，这次是局限在美国还是全球？
TY：事实上我们打算先去欧洲，从巴黎出发。听起来吸引人极了是么？
DC：我记得有在哪读到过，与和电台司令巡演相比，你这次和Atoms for Peace的演出将在更小的场地举行，是这样么？
TY：好吧，算是吧。我是说人们还并不完全了解我们。这是个诡异的积累过程，因为当人们提起另一个事物而不是我，他们并不会必然的把两者联系起来，这真让人抓狂。于是这更像是重新组建一支乐队然后对大家说“这就是这货”同时我又无法解释真正它，因为这其实并不是一支乐队。因此针对你所说的场地问题，这更多的是由于我们也不太知道事情最后会发展成怎样，有些场地是小了些，但也不尽然。
DC：尽管如此，你也给自己留了条后路不是么？我相信大家一定都成群结队等着看你呢，至少我是这么打算的。你这么做是因为你觉得这样更容易控制全局还是因为这似乎就是最常规的做法？
TY：我不好说这是不是最顺其自然的做法。你看，从根本上讲，除却是否采取行动这个决定本身，这就是传说中我也不知道到底发生了什么的事。但你就是不能把所有事都当做理所当然，指望换了全新的面孔观众却仍然认得你。幸在我从未这样做过，这便好似给自己打上了标签一样，对，就是那种感觉。电台司令的旗帜常让你达到一个审视的疯狂高度，而撇下了它就会使你陷入了这样奇怪的境地。去掉这个头衔固然很好，但也让你有些落差感。
DC:那么撇开合作的角度不说，我猜就是那些和一群新人一起演出所附带的美好的事，从自身因素出发你有没有想过去尝试新事物因为你觉得唯有这样才能维持创造力并不断进步？
TY：那是必须的。我是说，试着想象下：从根本上讲我从16岁起就和同一群家伙一起写歌，演出了。
DC：我实在是想象不出来，不过我可以开动小脑瓜合理化地猜测下与其伴发了什么。
TY：而你们都是男孩子，还都去男子学校。。。（笑）
DC：那么你音乐这一窍是怎么开的？我可是知道我是怎么和表演邂逅的。突然间它闯入了我的生活，而我确信这就是我所想要的一切。
TY：具体说说？
DC：我在利物浦附近长大，当时那里有个很不错的剧院，我们经常去。我母亲认识一些导演、演员之类的，所以之后我经常去那周围闲逛。那里的信息量非常大因为我可以看到戏剧的制作和完成，而这逐渐在我心中根深蒂固。之后我到了16岁，而我知道我想要做这个。可我们在说的可是利物浦的80年代早期啊，一切要多萧条有多萧条。幸在我有一个已经准备好嚷嚷着“你必须要离开继续去做你想做的事”并我踢出家门的母亲。可就音乐对你而言，和这些家伙在一起然后发生些事，这是很明显立刻就发生的么？还是一段时间内潜移默化出现的？
TY：呃，我和你蛮像的，在某种意义上，当音乐第一次呈现在我面前时，我便认定了，就是这个，这就是我要做的。
DC：在那时你家里还有人玩音乐么？
TY：不，没有。我可怜的父母完全无法搞明白，直到现在
DC：刚刚。。

直播？第一次赶上直播嗷嗷嗷！！！

TY：是啊，就在上周。我其实并不是真的能够读懂音乐，我只是知道我真的对此很投入。我在11岁时在学校遇到的第一个老师就是个主管音乐系的家伙。
DC：那是在Abingdon。那时在Abingdon有不错的音乐系么？
TY：恩，基本上是。我在那时几乎整天躲在音乐系。学校里其他院系的设置与我的个人体系完全是对立的。因此我也立即在小事上恼人得陷入各种麻烦中。这也是为何我抓住一切机会躲在音乐和艺术系中。那时我是那么的快乐因为。。。。你知道Thomas Dolby（英国音乐人）么？
DC：恩，他也是个来自Abingdon的小伙子不是么？
TY：对，我在音乐系最初的经历之一就是我走入了一间音乐教室，Thomas Dolby在里面，成名前的Thomas Dolby，和这些音乐合成器之类的东西在一起。而我当时就觉得，我也想要这些东西走入我的生活中。
DC：甲壳虫那时在利物浦可算是相当了不起了，但有着甲壳虫和the Animals这样的乐队，音乐界在英格兰西北和东北部更多的是被看做一种出路。音乐常被当做一种成功的途径，而同时也是一种逃避某事的方式。这种反叛意识是把你拉向音乐界的原因之一么？还是你就是有种强烈的意念知道自己必须要这样做？
TY：啊，这两者肯定兼有之。我是说，在那时的牛津情况诡异极了，因为在那时真正意义上存在的唯一一只乐队就是个小的独立乐队叫做Talulah Gosh，他们跟反叛更是八竿子打不着。他们穿着兜帽夹克衫还都坦率得不得了，演奏着同样率真的歌。可我就是愿意去他们的演出，于是到处都是血，人们狂舞啊，打斗啊，随后这只不足道的独立乐队登台。。。这并不是那种常见的“我们必须要离开这！”范。
DC：80年代作为80年代，你认为那是一种彼时英国全国性，相聚于人浪中相互碰撞的感受么？我是说，我记得这样做时真觉得这是最令人兴奋的事了。到那时乐队本身到底如何已经无所谓了，只要有人跟得上节拍，你便可以准备好上蹿下跳到处碰撞。
TY：对，这整件事就是关于周末不辞而别，不告诉任何人你在哪，随后发觉自己进入一个奇异的情境中，我很确定我将要和我的孩子们去体会一把。可说真的，对我来说，大部分时间其实也蛮蛋疼的，因为这其实涉及领土问题而你根本无法逃避它。我仍然有个怪事没搞明白——乐队和姑娘们总是在一起。我上的是男校，而我当时并没有意识到大部分男孩加入乐队其实是为了把妹。我那时并没有像其他人一样如此关注此事。
DC：那对你来说很困难么？
TY：（笑）我只是比较呆而且没想到罢了。再说和电台司令在一起，我也在别的乐队呆过做过些零碎的事，但当我第一次遇到这些家伙，他们显然更严肃，尤其是Jonny，年纪小点的那个，他可绝对是那种音乐奇才。他可以随手捡起个乐器就弹起来，那时他还在我兄弟的乐队里。
DC：你有没有把他挖过来？
TY：算是有吧。（笑）我真不觉得我们那时候定下来了。
DC：你是怎么对其他事物感兴趣的？你小时候对电脑着迷么？
TY：呃，我接触电子产品比较晚因为我们的乐队当时正处在排斥期。当我们91,92年刚起步时，在不列颠电子音乐界发生了些有趣的事，Warp Records当时正在出版些疯狂的东西。但那时所出现的更令人兴奋的事物是吉他音乐，而作为乐队，那便是我们的方向。所以我们之后才顾及电脑。说起这件有趣的事，当我们作为乐队出道时必须要去录音棚，你被呈现在制作人和玻璃另一侧的观众面前，他们叫住你并对你说“你能再来一遍么？能换一个吉他试试么？”而我总觉得这样做很怪，我就是觉得我该和这些人在一起做这些，同处一室。
DC：但这并不代表你打算控制整个局面。。。
TY：不，这其实就像“你算老几啊？”那时电脑已经到了你只能直接对其录制输入的程度。所以当这发生时，说起来好笑，我想，我要学会这如何操作，这样我就可以理解这一切了。而幸运的是，我们在和我们的朋友Nigel合作，和他在一起我们依旧是干活，但他对这理念如此的投入以至于区域的划分都模糊了。你想，作为音乐人我们也挺有技术性的，尤其是Jonny和Colin。我觉得Jonny在12岁时真的学了如何用C语言和我兄弟编程。我记得清晨路过我兄弟的房间，他正在读一本如何编写机器代码的书。这简直是疯了。我们上的就是这种学校。我记得当学校里的孩子们可以用电脑打印出“撒尿”俩字或是别的啥的时候简直都癫狂了。

丹的开场白。。。

DC：无论如何，和Atoms for Peace在一起，你曾提起过下一步的想法，这说起来是件很重要的事。但电台司令仍然还活跃着，我祈祷他们仍在。你有什么计划么？亦或你让一切顺其自然？
TY：天哪，我还真希望我有个计划。（笑）我们近期唯一的计划就是休个年假，这样是Ed O’Brien 想做的。Ed想到别的地方去住好好休息下。
DC：过过小日子。
TY：就是那样。类似“嗨，不如我们过上12个月无需任何承诺的日子如何？”这还真是个有趣的景象。
DC：而你成功这样做了吗？
TY：呃，当然这儿的傻瓜这么做了但仍需对别的事有所承诺。
DC：（笑）呃，我对此不能评价什么。乐队里其他人实现全身而退了么？还是他们在此期间有做别的事？
TY：他们都在应付些杂七杂八的事。Jonny一如既往在倒腾他的影片，他也确实乐在其中。Phil Selway在做唱片。而我就是停不下来，即使我闲下来仍然会对别人对我说“不如你这几周去做点啥？”感到兴奋。就算只是几天，也好似“好！棒极了！”因为那里总有像山一样多的未完成的和旋，想法和填词。
DC：歌词是起点么？还是你脑海中就一直有旋律回荡？
TY：更像是一直都有曲调啊旋律啊节拍啊。
DC：在维基百科上有写道Brian May(皇后乐队的吉他手)在你刚起步时对你有着巨大的影响，然后我就没再读下去了
TY：（笑）是啊，那确实是诡异得难以置信。
DC：只要你想，我能为你改变它。但很明显，世界音乐和舞曲现在都影响着你。
TY：此时此刻，世界音乐、舞曲、节奏感强的音乐和那些不单单是G到A到B再到E小调的音乐。。。
DC：我弹吉他的方式就这样被你发现了。
TY：我确实对这些东西很投入，尽管当你想正经写点声乐作品时那会把你拐到别的道上去。但与此同时，我依旧很享受创作出那些让人满足的和旋进行，他们能够在你每次弹奏时带动你的情绪。我成长环境就是这样。
DC：而那大概永远都会作为你所做的一部分而存在。
TY：是的。就像你对别的事有这样的感觉“恩，也许我开始对这开窍了”，这通常是你该摆脱它的好时机。如果你真的开始对它过度投入了，那么这大概是在胡扯（笑）
DC：这是不是一种英式态度？我遇事也有这种感觉，一种无害的玩世不恭来确保没有什么是一成不变的。
TY：这就像是你脑内的小警钟。
DC：这是不是意味着你会提前离开聚会？
TY：啊。。。
DC：不置可否。好吧。
TY：那你呢？
DC：我喜欢最后到场，最先溜走，但我从未那样做过。
TY：即使现在，我留到最后然后观望车祸发生，只不过我不再是当事人了。
DC：牛津郡依然是你的家。你现在是如何处理家务事的？
TY：和你很像，我必须离开很长一段时间。你花费你大部分时间在别的地方。个人来说，我已经对要进进出出这事实顺其自然了。
DC：他们（你的家人）也为此原谅你了？
TY：恩是，完完全全。但你知道的，这很怪。你的孩子们对一切都反应正常，如果连他们都对此没意见那你也没啥意见了。。。