When Courtney Love calls you, you answer. We did exactly that recently, when Love—who's been touring in Europe to promote her new scream-o-heavy, double A-sides, "You Know My Name" and "Wedding Day"—called us from her Nottingham hotel in the U.K. Our chat (which lasted for more than an hour) with the enthusiastic, focused, and seemingly very happy Love covered topics such as her getting back into acting; being Riccardo Tisci's first muse; the hopeful Hole reunion; her absolute loathing of flower crowns; being Net-a-Porter's number one client; why she ditched her "social media friend" Miley Cyrus' recent party; and, of course, her cheese addiction. Above all, it seems, Love is set on a comeback. With her slew of forthcoming projects, the self-proclaimed "grande dame of rock" is looking to reclaim the throne.

And now that at the proper time and place, after so long and wide a preliminary cruise, Ahab,—all other whaling waters swept—seemed to have chased his foe into an ocean-fold, to slay him the more securely there; now, that he found himself hard by the very latitude and longitude where his tormenting wound had been inflicted; now that a vessel had been spoken which on the very day preceding had actually encountered Moby Dick;—and now that all his successive meetings with various ships contrastingly concurred to show the demoniac indifference with which the white whale tore his hunters, whether sinning or sinned against; now it was that there lurked a something in the old man's eyes, which it was hardly sufferable for feeble souls to see. As the unsetting polar star, which through the livelong, arctic, six months' night sustains its piercing, steady, central gaze; so Ahab's purpose now fixedly gleamed down upon the constant midnight of the gloomy crew. It domineered above them so, that all their bodings, doubts, misgivings, fears, were fain to hide beneath their souls, and not sprout forth a single spear or leaf.