My father was a session musician, so I was often dragged to the studio when I was young and introduced to interesting characters with long hair who were busy smoking funny things.

As a producer, I'm now on the other side of the glass. My studio is in a very suburban area with bungalows and cul-de-sacs. When scruffy musicians show up, they're like, 'Hmmmm.' But whether it's in Fulham or the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, a great studio has got to be a cocoon. I've got a big red sofa, a drum kit, mood lighting, a rack of guitars. It's not sterile, but once you're in it, you're sealed off. I'm a bit of a psychologist with a band, as well as an interpreter. You'll get someone who says, 'I want it to be, like, blue.' I have to know what that means so they'll be happy. I might be helping them get out songs that have taken 10 years to perfect. They've come to me to finish. This completion is one of the hardest things for an artist to do. They'll always want to fiddle more. I'm the person who says it's done. The feeling of handing them something complete - that makes me very happy.

The gold usually starts to happen late at night. You have to be ready to get that gold before it turns to iron filings. The best is when I can show them a different path if they're unhappy. I can sometimes bring back the passion to a song. When it's done, well, that's rewarding.