Good music comes out of people playing together, knowing what they want to do and going for it. You have to sweat over it and bug it to death. You can’t do it by pushing buttons and watching a TV screen.

Richards contrasts the tactile, communal craft of making music with the frictionless ease of technology-driven production. For him, “good music” is an emergent property of musicians interacting in real time—listening, adjusting, and committing to a shared intention—rather than assembling sounds through remote control. The language of labor (“sweat,” “bug it to death”) frames artistry as iterative work: repetition, refinement, and stubborn attention to feel. The jab at “pushing buttons” is less anti-technology than a defense of embodiment and risk: the small imperfections and spontaneous decisions that arise when people play together are presented as the source of vitality and authenticity.