Like, he was basically producing the tracks live and bringing in samples and modulating the pitch and creating beats, like literally crafting beats right there in front of us. And we basically just stayed in there for sixteen hours straight building the song and then working on some other ones—I mean, it was like, we’d take bits of the shit I had written, and we’d take bits of the shit Chris had written, and then Trick would just sort of meld them all together and bring some of his own vibe—and literally the only reason we even thought to take a break is that at a certain point, Chris was just like: Guys, if I don’t go to the bathroom right now, I’m gonna shit all over the floor. And so we all went upstairs, and we all went to the bathroom, and we ordered some Thai food, and then, like, we went right back into it—like, legitimately, I think we were in there together for maybe thirty-six hours—and by the end of it, we had a fucking album. Like, yeah, there were still some little touches to be put here and there, and like, yeah, we still had to master the thing, but at the end of that thirty-six-hour session, we had basically finished the album I ended up putting out as Roses and Mud. And so the album became this sort of crazy hybrid thing, where like, half of the tracks were these uber-quiet, uber-delicate piano songs I had recorded in France, and half of them were these insane collaborations I did with Chris and Trick in Chris’s studio. And I remember just listening to the completed album for the first time and thinking: What the fuck are people gonna think about this? Like, I actually had no idea how any of it was gonna go over. But then, like, I mean, I think the only way to accurately describe what it was like when we dropped it was like it was a seismic shift, you know? It felt like we had actually changed the game. Like we had actually reached a new benchmark and created a new sound that like, people were going to have to reckon with forever. And that was honestly some new territory for me. I mean, I had killed it before, you know—like, I had felt before like I had pushed things forward a little bit or pushed some boundaries here and there—but this was a whole new thing. This was like, historical. And I don’t mean to sound like I’m bragging or something, because really, it almost feels like it wasn’t even me that did it. I mean, I don’t subscribe to that bullshit at all—that, like “the spirit spoke through me” bullshit—but it’s funny, because you do end up believing in something like magic. Like, so many artists I know, so many creative people are the most superstitious people on the planet, because how else do you explain what happened in that room between me and Chris and Trick?