"That one was quite deep for me because again, growing up in church and being a believer; my family being from the West Indies - my mum’s side from Jamaica, my dad’s side from Dominica - I remember going to church and it was authentic West Indians there in their 40s, 50s that now live in the UK but have kept these traditions, they were singing these songs just without the drums. So when I first heard this, something just went - ‘Hang on?’ I remember being four and hearing this person sing that song but swap Selassie for this or that. It had that same spiritual element I was so used to, just in a very different form. It was like a weird full circle thing for me. It was almost like going back home. These drums are taking me somewhere, but also I'm being carried by these songs I know. It was beautiful to check out more of what Count Ossie was doing and people that were part of his band like Cedric Brooks. He was infusing a lot of the jazz elements that he's hearing from Coltrane or Ornette Coleman. That's deep, you’re deep in the heels of Kingston, aware of Ornette and them man. Like Duke Ellington had to come and visit him, you know, there’s a photo of him and Duke Ellington in the bush. You know he's got something that's important, not only important for culture but it's spiritually important for the Nyabinghi tradition. For me when I heard that record, particularly Grounation, where they’re going through loops for 20 minutes, it’s that thing again with soundsystems where you ‘wheel up a riddim’ or at church when the tune would just keep going. It was something I’d never heard but I also felt like it wasn’t foreign, those experiences are so wicked and that influenced the whole fascination with drum culture and drum languages, spirituality connected to drums, music orientated around the drums. I got into Batá and music for the Orishas and things that are all over the Diaspora in West Africa, the Caribbean, South America. And when you listen to it, the recording’s so rags but it just couldn't work if you put it in Abbey Road. It gave me a bit more confidence when I was doing my record that if I go to someone’s house and I show up with a handheld recorder, as long as it feels right it doesn't matter. Big studio, small studio, my phone as long as it’s got that feeling that I was going for."

"I heard this for the first time at some point in the mid-90s and it had a big impact. For something so old, it sounded more like the future than anything being released then. It was hard to find on LP, but my friend John McKeown had a copy that I would borrow or listen to round at his. Eventually I bought a CD player so I could get it on reissue, as it took me years to find the vinyl. I reckon Eno was frustrated in Roxy Music. There didn't seem to be enough room for his experimentation or ego. You feel that he's running wild with pent up ideas in the way George Harrison did on All Things Must Pass. Although the sound is unconventional and experimental, it doesn't feel over-considered or precious in the way that many contemporary prog LPs do. It's spontaneous and quite thuggish at points. 'Blank Frank' sounds like he's wearing out the strings with a scrubbing brush. It's beautifully constructed as an LP. The songs are distinct and can stand alone, but there are wee passages of sound that link them together and the songs often overlap into each other, moving effortlessly between moods and musical conventions, melody and abstract noise. One moment 'Cindy Tells Me' sounds almost like it could be on the soundtrack of Grease (despite the lyric of rich girls confused by their new freedoms leaving their Hotpoints to rust in their kitchenettes), then you're in the dark, foreboding gloom of 'Driving Me Backwards' - ""kids like me have got to be craaaaaazzzzzyyyyy"" - what he does to his voice at that point will always sends a great shudder through me. I love his vocal delivery. It's very English and of that time - I hear it in Kevin Ayers, Robyn Hitchcock, Bid of The Monochrome Set and Syd Barrett, but none of the English singers around now seem to sing like that. What happened? Did that accent die out? There's a lovely send-up of the other Brian in 'Dead Finks Don't Talk' where he slips into a lecherous deep croon. It's heavily layered throughout, but it sounds like he didn't listen to himself as he double-tracked it. The phrasing and exaggerated vibratos don't often match which adds to the unnerving sense of panic which can suddenly drop to an intimate murmur. Eno has such a huge and recognisable persona, but not as a lyricist. There are some incredible lines on here: ""send for an ambulance or an accident investigator…""; ""Juanita and Juan/ Very clever with maracas…""; ""By this time time I got to looking for a kind of substitute/ I can't tell you quite how, except that it rhymes with dissolute…""; ""Meet my relations/ All of them/ Grinning like facepacks…"" the imagery is vivid, unsettling and direct. That's from a guy who pretty much abandoned writing lyrics shortly afterwards. Like Hunky Dory, this LP bridges two distinct parts of a career. There's still a Roxy flavour (Phil Manzanera is all over it), but songs like 'On Some Faraway Beach' point towards his ambient sound of the later 70s. It's a fleeting moment, never to be repeated. Well, except for on Taking Tiger Mountain. Maybe that's what makes this moment so great. He could have made another fourteen records with this template, all of which I'm sure would have had virtue. But he didn't. When we recorded our first LP, I played it to Tore Johansson [producer] and said I wanted it to sound like this. It didn't turn out that way, but it definitely had an impact on the session. We asked Eno to produce our second LP. He sent us a nice letter saying he couldn't do it, but that his daughter was a big fan of the band... Looking back I realise that it was the Eno who made this LP I was asking to produce. He's a smart guy and probably spotted that straight away."

"The moment I got into Crowded House, I was on tour – actually I went to see a Stevie Wonder gig in Wembley and I was like 'the guy doing the sound is brilliant.' And I thought it would be incredible if I could get him to do sound for me [which he did]. Anyway, I was at his desk one afternoon and he was playing Crowded House. I think he bought the cd for me and I just played the album and thought 'oh my God.' It was very different but very odd, there are some odd songs on there, especially as they were coming out of Split Enz as well who I knew a little about. So, I just grew to love it. I met my now wife as she used to work for EMI and had been doing promo for Crowded House's gigs in Denmark and what have you and had also been at Montreux – she was a mad fan as well. And 'Don't Dream' Is Our song, [shows me his wedding ring] – we have some of the lyrics inscribed here. I've had the pleasure – or the embarrassment – to tell Neil Finn this once. I saw him in a café in LA. And I thought 'do not, under any circumstances, tell him about ring' and before I knew it, I was going over telling him about the ring. I couldn't stop myself! By this time, I had seen them twenty times. But I was just there, in front of him going 'ummm..ehhh…ah fuck it!' But he was really polite and gentle and spoke about our mutual friend who used to be my musical director but was also producing Neil's album. How did he even know who I was?! I've seen Crowded House in so many different style of venues. I drove to Bristol to see them at the Bierkellar and so there was only three of them - there was no sign of Tim Finn… have you seen them live? No? Ah, fucking hell! They're amazing. I saw them at Hammersmith Odeon at one point and their drummer needed a piss mid-gig. So Neil Finn just started noodling and they ran around and swapped instruments and just started playing this nonsense song they made up on the spot. I just thought 'what is going on'! Every time I've seen them, they just make shit up. And I love that about them. Because they can be also so sincere about a lyric or a song they're gonna play. But where was I? Oh yeah, Bristol. Tim and Neil had just had a big bust-up. Tim had had enough. So that was quite a weird night. One of my favourite bands in terms of the music they make but also, as a live band, they're hard to beat."

"My Mother and Father were both in theatre and in some movies. My Mother was on Broadway in the ‘50s before I was around, in a musical, I think she was in it for two or three years. They always did things together, they were always getting the Broadway musicals and listening to them and getting into records. “Broadway musical cast albums are part of my earliest memories. I’ve been told that I would - as children can often do - absorb them and memorise it all, so on a family trip somewhere I would start singing them the whole way through. All of he songs in this musical or that musical, or whatever one they’ve been playing a lot of, or whichever one I maybe liked more and asked to keep hearing. “That’s been a big part of my writing; to have a storytelling aspect, a certain variety, a certain sense of those characters. It’s not all autobiographical, that’s often mixed in when I write and perform - to have that sense of playing or acting and storytelling. “This song is from Man of La Mancha. which was one of my favorites, that was one of the ones I could sing all the way through, and was one stayed with me more. Occasionally I would listen to it even when I was older than six years old, there’s something about a lot of those songs that connected with me. “With ‘Dulcinea’ in particular it’s the heartfeltness and the melody of it. And then it’s actually sung by other people with a different beat, a different groove and a different attitude, the same words are sung in a mocking and taunting way. “I was recently thinking of this - and I didn’t realise at the time - but to learn as a child that a song can be done in such different ways. The same song, the same words, the same chorus, the same melody, can be done as a sincere, heartfelt love, and then also could be done as absolute mocking, taunting and a violent aspect to it, instead of the most tender. It’s the same thing, but a different way and a different attitude. I think there’s something about it that I probably had taken in a very natural way, because I was hearing it. “Actually, from very, very early on, there was a Violent Femmes show or two that I sang a little bit of that song as a little intro to some other song that we did, because it seemed like it would be fun to do or it was in my head to do it. So it even made it to a Violent Femmes concert once or twice in the very early years of our band"