“One record kind of bleeds into the other one. Bryan is an artist who is constantly working, and things you might do for one album come out on another album years later. Bryan and I are kind of like a work-in-progress. He spends a lot of time fiddling with things to get them exactly the way he wants them to be, and that might take four, five years. By that time, I’ve moved to another country and had two children.
“He doesn’t do demos, really. He’s a little like me in that the original recording is there in one way or another; he rarely recuts it. The demo is the actual master, but it might go through lots of permutations. It might have had 12 different basslines and four different drummers, and sometimes it goes back to the original idea.
“We worked with some fantastic artists on the records. When you’re very respected, as Bryan is, people want to be a part of it. Plus he meets a lot of people, just like I do. Sometimes it’s just a matter of people coming by to have a listen, and then they say, ‘Hey, what if it went like this?’ Before you know it, they’re playing on a track.
“I think I brought him close to a minimalist kind of feeling. There’s a song that I wrote with him called San Simeon, and it’s a little spooky, a sort of wasted, elegant vibe, with echoey hallways and emptiness. There’s a melancholy attitude to it that I quite like, and it’s there on a few other songs that we’ve done together.”