"I'm starting to write my second record and am becoming really inspired by French pop music. This is currently my favorite Serge Gainsbourg song, but I kind of change my mind every minute about that."

"From the 90s onwards French music started to become very interesting. There have been quite a few French artists, especially in the dance-pop arena, who have found their metier when a lot of earlier French music just didn't translate. We lived in Belgium for quite a long time and one of the things I was completely aware of was the fact that as a British person I knew nothing about French music. And that's one good thing that's happened in music over the last twenty years: the increased internationalisation of music. Yes, Sebastian Tellier has to sing in English, but it doesn't necessarily matter as you don't understand what he's singing about anyway. He kind of does it by stealth. People told me about Sebastian Tellier and I was like, "yeah, it sounds quite interesting." And then you hear it, and you hear it again, and eventually you're like "my god, this is brilliant!" It's a combination of music and voice, it's groovy and funky; it's just incredibly listenable and a little bit bonkers. Again this is one of those records that we've listened to a lot. You can just put it on and it's just there, and sometimes it's just so beautiful, what he does. I'm not afraid of things that are just beautiful."

"In a glorious surge of deserved success in 1974, the very comprehensive lyric sheets accompanying Sparks albums prove that Ron Mael is clearly driven to tell, yet he answers the media by skillfil Quietism and by impersonating various walls. Ron Mael is an undoubted genius, and where else would a true genius live but in the catacombs of hell? Ron asks his younger brother Russell to sing the words - in chilling falsetto. Russell sings in what appear to be French italics, and has less facial hair that Josephine Baker. It is a scream, because the songs are screams. (...) Who on earth would write a pop song in such a way? A song about an arts and crafts competition where 'lovely Claudine Jones/has to come to push her quilt', but where Tracy Wise gets a prize. There is no category for this madness - except the category of madness, and Sparks are only let down by their name. At 14, I want to live with these people, to be - at last! - in the company of creatures of my own species"