"To live in New York is to live in a place that is both heaven and hell, kept from dissolving into economic and racial chaos only by the maintenance of a minute-by-minute decency, respect, and understanding. Spike Lee spends a good amount of time, early in the film, dousing a Brooklyn neighborhood with gasoline, as we hold our breath to see who will strike a match. Making perhaps one of the twenty-five greatest dramas of the past thirty years, Lee is in Sidney Lumet territory here, by way of Paddy Chayefsky, by way of Huey P. Newton. The acting is, at times, as raw as you see in film. Danny Aiello, in the self-immolating role of the pizza shop owner who strips away decades of spiritual growth in a matter of minutes, gives one of the great performances in contemporary movie history, and both he and Lee, as screenwriter, were nominated for Oscars. Giancarlo Esposito, Ossie Davis, and John Turturro are riveting. Ernest R. Dickerson’s photography is memorable, as is Bill Lee’s music. But it’s Spike Lee, on his way to making films like Malcolm X and Clockers, who knocks you on your ass so hard you have trouble getting up at the closing credits."

"My dad used to work in London for British Telecom. He used to walk an incredible distance from the nearest train station. It added an hour on to his day in each direction. I think he needed the solitude. At a certain age, my sister and I were allowed to walk and meet him part of the way; we would wait by the bridge that went over the A12. One day my dad arrived holding a 12” record in a brown paper bag. “I bought it for you two.” This was not a regular occurrence. “You've bought a record for us? For both of us? Do we have to share it?” The Kids From Fame managed to unite my entire family. My sister liked Coco and the dancers. I loved Bruno and his synths, but I fancied Danny. I still fancy Danny. I saw him on a reunion programme. He's still gorgeous. I can name all the characters and the actors from the first two series, including guests Janet Jackson and Donny Osmond. It brought all ages and races together. It was the United Nations of pop music. Like the Thompson Twins, it made me question how music was made and put together. How did they all know what to do? Why can I hear drums but not see them? They didn’t show the last four series in the UK. Arseholes."

"This reminds me of recording at Sawmills Studios at Fowey in Cornwall. It was a really beautiful environment and, thanks to the estuary, you had to come over by boat, loading the gear on depending on whether the tide was in. Then once you arrived it was this cut-off, really beautiful house. It felt like a holiday camp. Those first days in the studio were so exciting, we almost couldn’t contain ourselves. We were desperate to get in and start setting stuff up. We’d done a lot of four-track demos in the living room of the cottages so we kind of knew what we were doing but it was a very free time. I remember Danny and I being in the main living area there and getting really hooked on Either/Or. I think it was his almost Beatles-like sensibility in terms of his melodies and song structure. The technical side of things always interests me and I saw him doing similar things: finding a way to play four chords in a slightly odd way. His stuff wouldn’t always land on the chord that you expect, which was cool and very inspiring."

"When I was about 15, Danny and Mick [Quinn, Supergrass bassist] lived in this row of cottages that was literally 10 metres from my family house. That was our base; we’d get together in Mick’s living room. I feel very lucky to have been in a band at that time because we were still approaching music – playing live, writing and recording – the way they had since the beginning; it was the last little window where there was only two-inch tape recording, just a few A&R men around who would come to gigs and stuff, no internet, mobile phones. It seems weird now! We were in the house getting stoned and playing loads of records, everything from Pink Floyd to Gong, Muppets albums, Zappa and Patti Smith. A big one for us was Brian Eno’s Here Come The Warm Jets – it was one we were really hooked on. For somebody so experimental he had killer melodies and the way he double-tracked his voice is just really cool. The production and instrumentation are kind of understated and hint at lo-fi, but in an honest way. We had a meeting with him in New York in the early 00s about producing us. I don’t think it was anything creative that was the issue, it was a boring calendar thing from what I remember, but it was great to meet him and have a chat."