We had a lesson in church, Sunday school, it’s been several years ago, and it really just stuck with me. There was a go-around question that everybody in the class would answer. They said, “Okay, you have to give up one of the following, what will you give up? Your ability to speak, your ability to see, or your ability to hear?” I was the only one on the whole class that said the ability to hear. Because they said, “Oh it’s better to be silent, I’d rather not speak,” or “I’d hate to not see, and the beauty of this and that.” And I go, “It’s a slam dunk for me. If I can’t hear, I’m dead,” because the world speaks to me through my ears more so than my eyes. And I think that your eyes will lie to you. Your eyes will judge something before you ever know what it is. But your ears won’t. And if I have my eyes closed, I don’t know whether a man’s wearing a tuxedo or he’s dressed in rags. I don’t know if he’s white, I don’t know if he’s black, I don’t know anything about him. And I think that’s why I love music so much, and I’m not sold on videos and the music becoming a visual entity. I liked it when I put on a record and I saw my own pictures, I saw the story. It spoke to me through my ears. And so my ears are — they’re kind of the center of it all. They’re what tell me what to play. I try to play like I would sing, and then sing like I would play.