I think the brain is about the most dangerous fucking organ you can bring to art, be it theater or film or music or anything else. Being smart helps, and you don’t want to read a book by a complete moron. But without heart and some semblance of what we would understand as soul, it’s fucking pointless. And I don’t mean that in a musical sense. Mozart had fucking soul. The Beatles had soul, as far as I’m concerned. I don’t mean the color of your skin. I just want to know, “Do you mean it?” You know what I’m talking about? “Are you serious?” Does the music get under your skin and make your stomach lurch?

Wisdom of Martin Freeman (my new best friend)