"When I was young I always dug listening to live concerts. It was like we were there. I always think that live albums are a good way to represent a body of work anyway because it shows the songs as part of a collection better than, say, a greatest hits record. It wasn't so much that Cheap Trick At Budokan was live, it was more the selection of songs. Rick [Nielsen] was really an amazing showman as a guitar player as far as the tricks that he did were concerned. Plus, the power that he had despite being essentially a three-piece rhythm outfit was amazing. Then you had Tom [Petersson] with his twelve-string bass… Whoever thought someone would play something like that? I could have done without some of the squealing but having gone to Japan so much; I get it. That's their way of showing you that they loved you. I never really considered Cheap Trick to be a glam rock band. People forget that Rick used to have long hair before he transitioned to having short hair and wearing baseball caps when they supported KISS in 1977. Take a song like 'Hello There'. It has such a killer, punk rock attitude. It reminds me of Mötley Crüe doing a song like 'Live Wire': you don't expect that kind of aggression and when you hear it you think, ""Alright, you dudes can let it rip when you want to.""

"I got a cassette from a cousin of mine that had The Offspring, Smash, on one side and Nirvana's Bleach on the other. That was definitely the wake-up call of rebellion and antagonism, but the first record I really got into from thereon was Surfer Rosa. It felt so alien but so familiar. It really clicked on a bone marrow level that felt like it had pre-existed for me. I bought Death To The Pixies at the same time on tape from HMV in Oxford and I just became obsessed with that record. I listened to it again recently and it reminded me particularly about how I could connect with Frank Black's lyrics despite not being aware of any real narrative when I was much younger. I don't think Foals would exist without the Pixies. I love the oddness and the strangeness of the Hispanic/punk/pop influence - it should be wrong, it shouldn't work but it does, really well. More recently I re-listened to his lyrics and appreciated how humorous they are, which reminded me that things don't need to be too obvious or narrative-based, they can be just fragments of thought. It opened the gateway into everything that then consumed me for the next ten years (Oxes, Albini, Sonic Youth, Godspeed - the American guitar alt/post-hardcore/post-rock world). Without Surfer Rosa I may have stayed with Nirvana and The Offspring…"

"He was working with a lot of the young rappers, like Easy Mo Bee. They were laying down hip-hop drums and a few chords and apparently Miles would just improvise over the top and they'd add the vocals. That's a fabulous record, primarily because Miles sounds like he's really enjoying himself. He's more inventive on that album. He's getting more involved than on some of the albums that came before that. I saw him play live at the Hammersmith Odeon in the early 1980s and all he was doing was orchestrating. He'd stand up and play a little riff and then point at the drummer, who'd do a 15-minute solo. He was wearing a baseball hat on and was bent down and you couldn't see his face. Another one-minute solo, then point to the guitar player. The show went a bit like that. But everything he did play was well worth the entrance price. He plays great on Doo Bop. It was his last album. He was doing painting at the time, but he was really into working with these young guys and they were in awe of him. This was their dedication to him. The lyrics are all about how brilliant he is. Miles rose to the occasion and showed his chops. Every note is perfect. I've grown into jazz over the years, but it took me a bit of time to appreciate it."

"This was another sonic influence on the record - the saxophone, the guitar. If you’re painting a picture it’s like 'What colours do you want?' Every instrument is a colour and with this we’re only using a few different colours. It's in how it sounds and how it feels to listen to, it's not necessarily about the actual instruments, it's about what it visually feels like. “Yoko’s record was produced by Phil Spector and on Oh My God the subject matter is a little absurd and it's fun to be sort of playful with it. Back to the cinematic thing, it exists in this big, bombastic universe and mimics the Phil Spector sound. “I just read the Jeff Tweedy book and I really related to him saying that basically his whole life and everything he does is essentially influenced by two different records. One's a record of just train sounds like cabooses, it's not music, it's just train sounds. The other one, I forgot, I think it's Johnny Cash or something. ""Yoko used the heartbeat of her unborn baby on a song she made with John Lennon and I really relate to that; I'm really into the atmosphere of songs and how everything in the world can be its own music. I saw a quote from Neko Case recently where she said 'When you're an artist and work for yourself, your job never ends!"

"I love this record. Of course Bob Dylan is a genius, and most of the acknowledgements of Dylan are for his compositions. These tracks, many of them I think are traditional songs, there's one or two originals. I love listening to this all the way through. His extraordinary rendition of 'The House Of The Rising Sun' is somehow overlooked. It amazes me. I know the Animals' one is brilliant, but I prefer the Dylan one, because it just tears your heart open. You really get a strong sense of the meaning of the lyric when Dylan does it, the melancholy of it. I think the reason why I love it is, you get the sense of the beginning of something. You know, this guy's gonna have a future. The simplicity of it, as well. It's just this guy with a harmonica and a guitar, yet it's profound. And I think credit has to be given to [producer] John Hammond as well, who's one of my great heroes. What a guy. A champion of African American music, yet at the same time, a champion of bringing white music and black music together. That to me is the message of the last century, more than anything. It's not separating the two, it's what they did together. You wouldn't have a job, and probably I wouldn't [laughs], without that marriage, because rock music wouldn't have happened without it, it wouldn't even exist."

"Despite the fact I love all sorts of Crimson records, I think this is still my favourite. Maybe just for nostalgia reasons, I listened to this record when I was very young. Before I was into jazz, before I was into weird music, I always loved this. Obviously I grew up with The Beatles and the Stones and Floyd and stuff, but I remember I was in a car and Jimi Hendrix came on the radio. I said 'what is this?' I was only 12, and a guy I was with looked at me like I was insane. In those days gas stations had lots of cassettes so we pulled over and I bought a cassette that had Are You Experienced on side A and Axis: Bold As Love on side B. I listened to it until it was completely worn through. That was my introduction to the 60s stuff that I hadn't been brought up listening to. King Crimson's early stuff was among that new, exciting 60s music that I hadn't heard. Robert Fripp became my guitar hero, he used to do a League of Crafty Guitarists thing in New York so I saw him play. I became a Fripp head, I saw them play in the 90s with my English teacher. It blew my mind, but they didn't play the old stuff. I'm not musiciany enough to like that stuff, but the early stuff resonates a lot."

"This is another case of, "Where's my Radiohead gone?" Hearing Muse for the first time was like, "Holy shit, this is like Radiohead, but heavier, and more pop, but also darker as well", and I just absolutely fell for it, hook, line and sinker. I was at the perfect age, was just getting into actually being good at playing stuff, and Matt Bellamy was all over the place in terms of his musical talents, playing the piano and guitar, and stuff that teenagers love. Stuff that sounds flashy and complex and twiddly but is actually not. And the bass player! Fuck me, the basslines on the album! Bass players don't do that kind of stuff! He's the sort of main character in an awful lot of those songs. It was an absolute revelation. I was a bass player before I was anything else, and I remember thinking, "Holy shit that sounded ace"! They ripped up the rulebook in so many ways for rock music. It was so enjoyable as well. Every song had a real sense of performance and razzmatazz. Of course it's called Showbiz and it is a type of show. So I think, more than anything, that's probably what you would say about my band, particularly live - we're not subtle, it's over the top. Whether people like it or not, that's got into us now and it's hard to take a step back."

"This was something of an anomaly in Faith No More’s catalogue, from a film made in the early ‘90s called Judgement Night. The soundtrack was a sort of experiment where they would get bands - white people, essentially - and they would couple them with hip-hop groups and see what happened. This was one of my first introductions to hip-hop to be honest and it wasn’t even ‘proper’ hip-hop, it was bands playing with rapping over the top. “I just thought it was absolutely amazing and I couldn’t get enough of it, this worn-out tape. ‘Another Body Murdered’ was one of the best tracks on it and it ended up introducing me to loads of bands and loads of rappers and this wasn’t like nu-metal, it was mostly edgy rappers. But then there was also a track ‘Fallin’ with Teenage Fanclub featuring De La Soul, things like that. It gave me a really broad introduction via a medium I already understood, which was bands. “But because it was a faceless tape, I didn’t really know who everyone was or who was doing what on each track. I didn’t realise then what cultural lines might have been crossed, because it was all just blurred into one: here’s the guitar, here’s somebody rapping. It didn’t matter to me at all and I think that was a healthy way to discover that sort of music."

"I had that record for a long time and didn't pay much attention to it. I turned Jesse onto it. He's since tried to get it, and it's like $20, but I found it in a bin for like $4, $6. I didn't pay much attention to it, but then once I got deep into him - it's an incredible performance around the same time. The first song on there, 'Healing Song', does that very similar thing where it's just a couple of chords, but on this one they have two bass players. So they have one guy that's just playing the basic chords, the other one's really walking around it in this spiritual way, and the piano player's incredible, and people are even singing along. It sounds like late '80s or early '90s pop, like I think about this Janet Jackson song, it's a prototype for African-American pop, where it's all these songs, like... It's not like, "Ah man, I love me some Janet Jackson" - that stuff just gets embedded just 'cause you hear it on the radio 24/7, [but] you know that song, 'Escapade'? There's a riff in that song that I play on my guitar as a joke, but it's actually the best riff ever, it's sort of like that: this simple hook, but obviously they take it beyond, because they're all such good players. It's just pop that you can't deny mixed with free spiritualism."

"Really Red are from Texas and they released Teaching You The Fear in 1981. My friend Smithy and I had a fanzine called Attack and that was one of the records that came through. Our first band Mr. Epp eventually played with them. There's a lot going on in that band for a so-called hardcore punk band. There was a lot of cool stuff coming out of Texas in the early 80s like Big Boys and The Dicks, a little later the Butthole Surfers. Really Red was quite a political band. So many political punk bands were really strident like Crass but in the wake of Maximumrocknroll fanzine many of them were 16-year-old kids spouting shit about stuff they didn't really understand. And who wants to take advice from someone with a very small worldview? Really Red were a little older, maybe five to eight years older than me, and I know this because Ronnie Bond eventually moved up to Seattle and I got to know him a little. Those guys were old enough that when The MC5 came through Houston in the early 70s they hung out with them. Really thoughtful guys but most importantly kick-ass songs. Kelly Younger was a really unique guitar player. They also referenced Nico and The Velvet Underground as well as political punk stuff. They just seemed a little broader than a lot of things that were happening at the time in the hardcore scene in particular."