"Neu! has to represent Cluster, Conny Plank, Kraftwerk, David Bowie, Brian Eno. It's an extraordinary piece of work. I was introduced to it when I first went to art college. There was a guy called Tony Fowler who was the polytechnic DJ and he was a little bit older that everybody else. I wheedled my way in and became the sorcerer's apprentice or whatever, thinking I could get my taste on there instead. He played me this and at the time I was very confused by it. I thought I was quite... I listened to Captain Beefheart and Pink Floyd and good stuff, but this was really challenging, the minimalism I guess. I can honestly say it didn't make me go, 'Aha! This is ze future!', but many years later, after I'd had it in the car stereo, I remember Klara saying, 'Papa, you've been playing 'Hallogallo' for two years, can we hear something else?' I was going: 'But it fits! It fits! It's perfect every time!'"

"Take great care with this documentary film of an all-day concert staged by John Phillips in small-town Monterey, California, for it holds within it the greatest single performance by any electric-music instrumentalist you have ever seen, or are likely to: the U.S. debut of the Jimi Hendrix Experience. Known as the man who revolutionized the electric guitar, Jimi Hendrix appears onstage in this film a man possessed. As David Bowie sang in “Ziggy Stardust”: “He could lick ’em by smiling/ He could leave ’em to hang/ They came on so loaded, man/ Well hung and snow-white tan/ . . . He was the nazz/ With God-given ass/ He took it all too far/ But boy could he play guitar.” Never will you see a performance so sensual. There are many great films to be found of Jimi playing, but none to rival this. In Monterey Pop, there are many performances worth watching, seminal, even—Janis Joplin, Otis Redding among them—but they are all just warm-up acts to Jimi, the greatest rock-and-roll star to ever tread the boards."

"It all started with us on the bus with a few guitars just singing the melody to what became 'The Jean Genie', but it was just naïve and silly. Then, a week later, Bowie came and said: 'Alright, I've finished that one!' And it was of course nowhere near what we had been singing lyrically, but the feel was there. It was one of those nods to good time rock & roll from the early days, spanning from the blues days right into the future. Although it was a very simple song, the lyrics were almost like a rap before rap came out, just with a blues rock backing. He was rapping about the weird scenes we were hanging out in in New York at the time. It just seemed to sum up a whole few years of the 1970s for us. There was weirdness in there, things you couldn't understand, sex, drugs and rock & roll are all in that song. It was, again, David going ahead and churning out a hit. And that one was a first take – that's what's on the record."

"I'd heard of Andy Warhol, but I'd never heard The Velvet Underground until David Bowie talked about them in interviews in the NME, and of course Transformer. I'd rather talk about Transformer than the banana album actually, because Transformer sums up the era. I do believe that Mick Ronson was very instrumental - like a classically trained musician as well as a gorgeous rock god lead guitarist. His arrangement abilities for both Ziggy Stardust and Transformer have not been fully recognised in the history of pop music. I don't think David would've broke through without that. I remember dancing to 'Vicious' in a nightclub called Masquerade in Liverpool - a really eccentric gay bar full of diesel dykes, prostitutes and older gay men with dyed black hair and toupees. It was a strange netherworld hidden up a back alley that embraced a bunch of freaks of my generation like Pete Burns and me, Jane Casey, who wore too much make-up. That was the thing about a gay club, you were safe almost in there. A strange refuge. I suppose in a way, punk kind of helped that. Absolutely. One minute you were queer on the street, the next minute you were a punk. It normalised that sort of behaviour really, you know; ""Oh, they're just punks"", and it was a diversion away from sexuality. Punk was strangely non-sexual. Even the main protagonist John Lydon had something of a 'neither here nor there' about him."

"Iggy reminds me a lot of me. And it's all in that name; it's all in the title of that album. It’s raw power, you know? I like the funk that David Bowie was able to get behind Iggy. Believe it or not, I first saw an image of Iggy Pop at church, and they were talking about secret messages and backward masking - and they had [a picture of] Iggy Pop looking crazy. I didn't get into it until later, but I think how I was introduced to it was 'I Wanna Be Your Dog'. And what I like about Iggy is it's just genuine raunch. And the album seems like it’s all done in one take. 'Let's do that one, leave it, just try something else'. With his energy on stage, it seems as if the studio was just destroyed after that album - or at least you'd like to believe that. I just read an interview with him in which he said he wrote a lot of it in Hyde Park sitting under a tree wearing pyjama's too, which gave it a cool twist as well. I just love 'Search And Destroy' and 'I Need Somebody' as well."

"I always regretted that the Spiders didn't do that one as a single, Bowie and the Spiders. Because when he had written it, we did hear it and we did a version of it just to try it out, and you could hear that there was a real potential for it to be a big hit single. And we didn't treat it like that, we just treated it as another song we needed to get a version down on record. Then he gave it to Mott The Hoople and it went absolutely huge! It turned out to be kind of like an anthem of the 1970s, really. An amazing song, another one of my favorites. It was one of those songs you hear, and you just know immediately: that's a hit. Some you might hear and think it could be a hit if it was treated right, or it could be a minor hit, but with that one it was: no, this is a major hit. He wrote it for Mott The Hoople, really, they were on the edge of splitting up and it wasn't going well, and they needed to be pulled out of it with a hit – so David, as he did, just went: 'Okay, I'll write one.'"

"I’ll just drop The Weeknd House of Balloons, which I call black Portishead. [Laughs] It’s like, ‘Who is this dude? This can’t be a real person, right?’ That echo just seems like it was recorded—or wasn’t recorded—in some black hole and it was a sound just coming out and it just sucked you in. I could listen to that album 200 million times over and it still sounds fresh every time. “To me, the lyrical content—I don’t know how much it means to him, as far as personally. But, I’m a guy that listens to David Bowie who was like, “Yo, your mom doesn’t know if you are a boy or a girl.” Just saying stuff—shocking, but I don’t know if it’s for shock’s sake. I’m sure he is not trying to do that. But it doesn’t sway me from the music. ‘Yeah, come over, I’ll get you real high and I’ll fuck you and maybe never call you again.’ To me, he is telling a story and we have all seen the movie Seven. That doesn’t mean he beat him and barbed-wired his ankle to a chair and his whole stomach explodes. But it’s fascinating"

"I wanted to mention this record because it’s almost taken for granted in David Bowie’s canon as just ‘there’s another great Bowie track’, yet it gets overlooked by something like ‘Let’s Dance’ or ‘Heroes.’ “If this came out now I don’t think it’d have any chance on mainstream radio and I think that’s because - and this might be incredibly subjective - he does this amazing thing where he manages to be completely remote whilst leading this band. It’s a really genius performance, the way he pitches his vocal and his persona, it’s cold and remote, but yet really sexy and it’s got no earnestness in it whatsoever. It’s not inciting you to get up and rock like ‘Jailhouse Rock’ or any of the Elvis Presley records, which is someone wanting to dance with you or encouraging you to do that. “To use an obvious comparison about Bowie, this has a really alien position because the voice is so cold, but it’s perfectly Rock and Roll. And it’s really white I think, probably because I can picture him in my mind when it came out and you’d never seen anyone more white, but it’s also as low down and Rock and Roll as any of the blues records that came out. It’s interesting, it’s got that sexuality in it. “I was about ten when it was released and to me and a bunch of kids experiencing it then it was so modern, because of what Bowie’s doing on top of what is essentially a Yardbirds or a Muddy Waters riff and using ‘The Jean Genie’, which back then was such a hip kind of slang. It’s a play on Jean Genet and he’s describing bits he’d picked up from Iggy, but in the early 70s’ everything was ‘Ziggy’, ‘Iggy’, ‘Genie’ and people were called ‘Mick’ and ‘Stevie.’ “There was a very urban, street Rock and Roll that was quite illicit; the threat of drugs, danger, confused sexuality and super-androgyny and the character he’s singing about personifies that in the mind, which leads me to Iggy."