I think there's always been a traditionally apocalyptic side to British science fiction, from H.G. Wells onwards. I mean, most of Wells' stories are potentially apocalyptic in some sense or another.
'Apocalyptic Love,' that is pretty from the hip in the sense that, one day, Slash and I were talking - I think it was Slash and I - about the end of the world and the Mayan calendar and all that crazy stuff.
Lyrically, 'Planets' is the precursor to 'Acid Rain'; it's about a meteoric, intergalactic war that results in an apocalypse and the human species aligning together to go fight something much better than us, our individual trials and tribulations.
A lot of people we tell the story to assume that the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse were actually part of the original Washington Irving story, which only happens to be 17 pages. It's a great starting point, and then we built on it, very much in a logical progression.
The second coming was an event in the spiritual, and not in the natural world.
I'm also not an avid watcher of the show ['Walking Dead'] for no good reason. I think it's obviously a great show. I think it's a good comparison [to "Zoo"], because it is this apocalyptic world we're living in Season 2 of "Zoo."
The song "Sing for the Submarine" presents my dream world, which is way different from my waking world. It's set in the future and it's post-apocalyptic.
I'm really into sci-fi. I always have been. In addition to that, I've always had a tremendous fascination with the lure of the Apocalypse or Judgment Day or the Mayan calendar, etc., etc.
We're living on the Planet of the Apes. Is that funny or serious?
I never looked at Noah as an animal collector. I always thought of him as an apocalyptic character. I read everything I found about it and was surprised to find that in all religions there is the story of the flood, and that one "hero" saved the world. This proved that Noah and his Ark - were not a religious myth, and is evidence that humanity really went through the flood.
Then the bow orchestra began to play an apocalyptically beautiful canon, one of those pieces in which, surely, the composer simply transcribed what was given, and trembled in awe of the hand that was guiding him.
