Your new album is called Seventy. You are 70 years old. And I hear you like the number 70.

It’s a biblical number. It’s a very pleasing number to me. I like the sound of it. Turning 70 feels like a real marker. I wouldn’t say it’s an achievement, but I must have had my fair share of luck to reach 70. I was pretty reckless and I took risks – so I feel lucky to reach 70. Everything else after this is just extra.

I’ve been writing songs about death always being close by since I was pretty young. [laughs] I think Neil Young once said he was writing songs about being old when he was 21. “Old man, take a look at my life …” I think all poets are interested in time and life not being very long.

Has Joe [the protagonist of Kelly’s songs How to Make Gravy and To Her Door] stopped talking to you, now he’s dead?

No, he won’t shut up. I wrote Rita Wrote a Letter to give Rita her point of view. And it’s all Joe! He’s talking all the way beyond the grave. He’s still talking as the song fades out. I was a little bit worried that some people are going to be upset that I killed off Joe, but it was just fun to do, fun to write, fun to sing. And in the end I haven’t really killed him off at all! You can’t keep him down.

Someone has suggested that I can now write a prequel [to How to Make Gravy]. I often get asked, what’s Joe in prison for? And my honest answer is, I don’t know. Oftentimes you write songs and you don’t know the details. He’s in prison. I don’t know why, sorry!

What is your most controversial pop culture opinion?

I think Imagine by John Lennon is probably one of the worst songs ever written. I can’t stand it. I love having these arguments with Ash Naylor, our guitar player. I love the Beatles and John Lennon, but that song – I didn’t like it from the start and I still don’t like it. Especially when it became really popular.

And I could very happily go through the rest of my life without hearing Hotel California again. There’s probably a whole lot more, but I might stop there! One song that I really love that people might be surprised I like is I Want to Know What Love Is by Foreigner. That’s the most beautiful song.

You have toured with both Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen. Who was the more fun to tour with?

They were both fun. I learned a lot from both of them. I’ve recently done my first ever headline arena tour, and those guys were touchstones for me because they made those big spaces feel intimate in very different ways. Bob was so casual, off the cuff. You get the sense that even his band didn’t know what song was coming next. Leonard, on the other hand, was totally scripted – he said the same thing every night, did the same songs, pretty much – but it didn’t feel rote or showbizzy. It felt more like prayer or ritual. He served the audience, you could feel the love coming at him. Instead of basking in it and making himself big, he made himself a servant. He was like a vaudevillian rabbi, the way he conducted himself. But everyone was hanging on every word. And the same thing with Dylan, because you always know he is going to do something different. His band’s watching him like a hawk, just to make sure they know what song he’s singing.

What book, album or film do you always return to and why?

The Sound of Music. I’ve gone back to that a few times. It has great tunes, great story, the romance. I love the way that darkness hovers around the edges of that film. I remember when I saw it as a kid, I just thought of it as a fun movie with catchy songs. Then I remember seeing it as an adult and suddenly realising the depth and the darkness around it. It was such a surprise and probably why that film has stayed with me.

And I love Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven. He’s an old bounty hunter going back for one last job. Every time he gets on his horse, he’s really struggling. I love that. I go and watch it just for that alone. I get that these days when getting on my push bike!

What’s been your most memorable interaction with a fan?

The first one that comes to mind was when we played in Amsterdam this year. A guy was at the front of the stage going, “Paul, I’ve got to talk to you!” So I finished the song and said: “Yeah, what’s up?” He said: “I want to propose to my girlfriend on stage.” I was thinking, what could possibly go wrong if I let this happen? I said to him: “Are you sure she’s going to say yes?” By this time, the audience is getting involved, so I said, “all right, come on – you better know that she’s going to say yes.” He said: “Yeah, I think so!”

So he called her up on stage, but she hadn’t been expecting it so she was way at the back of the room. He called out her name and she wasn’t there – I was thinking, oh my God, this might not be good. I found out later they were quite drunk and they got drunker as the night went on. But she eventually made her way up, he went down on one knee and she said yes. The room went off, they were all happy. And they proceeded to get uproariously drunk and tried to crash the band room later on, but we managed to get out in time.

What song would you like played at your funeral?

Black and Tan Fantasy by Duke Ellington. It feels like a funeral march. It’s just beautiful orchestration and an unusual song. I first heard it when I was 12 years old – my older sister was going out with a trumpet player and he bought some records around the house. I didn’t know how people could make that kind of music.

What’s the best piece of advice you have ever received?

In terms of performing, it’s probably from my grandmother, who was an opera singer. She said: “If you’re nervous before a show, just breathe deeply.” It’s the simplest piece of advice. I still use it before shows – think nothing and breathe deeply.

What is your least favourite bird and why?

The noisy miner, by far. It’s the one we have all around here where we live. They’re bullies. They’re not pretty. They’re bad for the native birds. I’ll be happy to never see another miner again. There’s Indian mynas and noisy miners – they’re all miners to me and I don’t like them.

What’s the most chaotic thing that’s happened on stage?

Mittagong RSL Club in 1988. It was an unmitigated disaster. When we got there, our PA was in pieces so soundcheck took forever. The support act was a DJ and he was killing it, there were heaps of people on the dancefloor. He started to make snide remarks – “The band’s gonna come on sometime before Christmas”, that sort of thing. We eventually got on and everyone fled to the bar, which seemed about half a mile away. We started playing and it sounded horrible. There was feedback, the monitors sounded muddy. We were really struggling. Finally, one woman came up from the bar and stood in front of our guitar player and started beckoning to him, during the middle of the song. “Maybe one person likes us!” I thought. And when we finished the song, she said” “Listen, I’m leaving now but I just wanted to say before I go that you’re the worst band I’ve ever seen.” [laughs] We’ve had some better shows since then.

Seventy by Paul Kelly is out now on EMI