I’d sit and listen to albums end to end. I’d listen ‘S. F. Sorrow’ by The Pretty Things, then ‘Endtroducing’ by DJ Shadow. Just before I die, the last thing I’d listen to would be ‘Come On Eileen’ by Dexy’s Midnight Runners. Imagine dancing to that and dying right at the end of it. My missus would film it and it would be on YouTube. I’d still be warm and people will be watching it.

I think that dying might bring about a profound loneliness. I don’t feel lonely in life, but I do think this would be a very hard discovery at the end. Assuming there might be a time of consciousness, I think that serious medication might be a help. Not to put me out, but to smooth things over. The last time I had surgery, the anesthesiologist visited me in Recovery and gave me a sheet of paper on which was listed all of the drugs he had administered. I was glad to get it after the surgery, since I went down the list thinking, That’s what killed Michael Jackson, that’s what killed Prince. I don’t take recreational drugs, never did, but I would like to have the option of taking the edge off of fear. People I love at my bedside—I don’t see that being a comfort, but a reminder of who I’ll be losing. Music might be welcome. I could imagine wanting to hear Jorma Kaukonen sing “Genesis.”

By the sea. I would like to be on the beach in Kerala, I would like to be on the beach at Yellowcraigs in Scotland, and then at a really good table, drinking really good wine, eating delicious food, and discussing things I am passionate about with people that I am passionate about.

I would obviously be in a good place chemically, the synapses would be content. I would play with my kids. I don’t think I would have time to watch anything by Ingmar Bergman. Bergman would suddenly feel like not that good a director if I only had a few hours.

'Brody Dalle-Homme: ASS KICKER.'