Just Add Water  
I knew I was onto something from the moment I started messing round with those chords and that phrase. As soon as you mention water to anyone there's something clean and pure about it. The song has two or three chords tops, but the arrangement is what's exciting about it. We've got all sorts of curly little things going on, and Ian could have his 'golden curtain' in the middle of the song: from there on, you're rocking. Right from the start we knew that this was one that could play on the radio, so let's have some fun with it.

Alive on Arrival
The sax section is all one guy, Mark Dennison. He was in DD Smash in '83 and '84, an Aussie who married a Kiwi and lives here now. He plays the whole lot, all really well - baritone, tenor, alto, soprano, clarinet and flute. I'd say, try this riff, and Ian would build an arrangement that sounded kosher. Meanwhile I'm going, How am I going to do this live: with a huge band? I couldn't ditch the horns, we had to take it to the moon. Lyrically it's a salvation song, an allegory: there's a train ride, a drunk meets the barman, the barman's the devil or the reaper. I'm the only one on this train and it's going in one direction. An autobiographical redemption song. If you can't be bothered, just listen to the saxes.

Feel Someone Else's Pain
It's one of those natural songs, I just like the feel - that upbeat just lifts you out of your seat straight away. I've always loved that about soul and R&B music. We had some great backing singers on it, Marina who was in Ma-V-Elle and her two friends Sella and Bella. They were doing stuff Aretha would have to warm up to do. Amazing.

A Bridge on Fire
Another bridge song, another fire song. I kind of toyed with this loose reggae feel on The Optimist. I've been listening to a lot of Ernest Ranglin. I love what the bass does in reggae music. There's a bit of that in there. It was a challenge - that rubber-bandy groove, so back on the beat you almost have the sense of vertigo. Hence the bridge thing, I had this image of bridges burning being a positive thing: Come on darling, let's hold hands as we walk across this bridge that happens to be on fire and not be afraid.

Name of Love
A big dumb song we wanted to stay that way. A floppy groove, not that cool but happy. I just abandoned myself to it. Probably it came from a 60s jazz'n-jive record from Southern Africa I bought. Growing up, we heard rhythms translated through American R&B and reggae, but go back to an African artist and they've kept this mysterious upbeat thing intact - it didn't transfer continents. We were too busy listening to Britpop and Motown. Meanwhile behind the apartheid curtain this incredible music was going on.

Angels
I'm very proud of that one because there's one guitar hanging it together. We just kept it that way. There was a temptation to try some guitar duelling and pretty it up in a Nashville way but it felt nice and loose and rocking, open, thrashy and loud. It feels like a Sun records session, it comes from that pure rock'n'roll place.

Background Love
It works as a nice small song on acoustic guitar too, it's almost the 'Mobile Home'  of this record. It kind of wrote itself, I knew it wouldn't be any longer than two-and-a-half minutes and we managed to get a middle in there as well, plus a Bacharach flugelhorn solo and sexy chords. The Cummerbund Singers, like a club band with a Latin flavour. A little Aroha Room/Pacific showband feel.

I Am I Am
It swings. I was really celebrating finally becoming a piano player. We were using the Steinway up at the Helen Young studio - it was so easy to get that groove, and it stayed that way. I got Rick Bryant to sing backing vocals on it because he's a fantastic gospel singer. It's another celebration/salvation song, with the energy and swing of gospel. But it doesn't matter what's being sung - more what was going to move you off your seat.

She Rocks
The funniest track on the record. Ian Morris plays the synth, like Parliament or George Clinton in the 70s. It's just a riff that doesn't let up. I've got to make a track like that on every record, it comes from what I grew up with. The music on the radio here in the 60's and 70's was stunning. Very eclectic, lots of black music.

My Kinda People
A bit of a tanty with a couple of guitar thoughts thrown in. It's almost punk - I thought, I can do a punkish song, I'm about the same age as Johnny Rotten. And I wanted a song where you can air-guitar out. You can put on different hats from song to song, that's the way I looked at it. The styles combine in a nice way. There's a production style over the whole record, but a lot of experimenting from song to song.

Hopetoun Bridge
It sounded to me like that feeling of walking over the motorway after a night on the town. Like a Tom Waits movie, where everything turns into this manic waltz: fruity and quite scary. We had a lot of fun with the tail of that, it's got a sense of build about it, then this crazy waltz and feeling of vertigo.

Kingdom Come
I wanted the rhythm to be like one of Neil Young's songs off Harvest, with an insistent feel. I knew from the start that Neil Finn would be perfect to do the backing vocals. It only took us about an hour and a half to get nine tracks of him singing backing vocals. His oohs and aahs are his alone. With the last record I got to write a lot of songs on the back porch, sitting in the garden watch the kids play, jangle away on the guitar. That's in a couple of these songs - 'Kingdom Come' and 'Angel' particularly - enjoying being a father so much. And with 'Kingdom Come' it was a realisation that everything worthwhile you do is love driven. If it's not, it's coming from the wrong place.

Love Like the Moon
It's an ensemble piece, not something to be played live. Like a film soundtrack, it's a very Auckland thing, just being in the harbour, or downtown, or heading out west. It ended up as a weird soundtrack to an old spy movie. It's got that Dr No feel about it. The melody just kept coming back and haunting me. There was a temptation to get quite epic, turn it into a torch song. But it came to me that it was a good way to end a record: you've got to land gently.