"Diamond Dogs was another one from my Dad’s record collection. That record and Ziggy Stardust had a huge impact on me, I liked the glam aspect and the production was so cool. I liked the cover of Diamond Dogs, with the half-dog, half-man and I listened to “Rebel Rebel” - which I loved - but then I got into ‘We Are the Dead’ and that was some next-level shit. That song showed me some of the theatrics and drama that you could do with music and how you could create such a mood. It’s not just about plugging in the guitar and singing a song, it’s also about the production work and choosing the right instrument for the purpose. “We Are the Dead” literally scared me to death as well, I’d put it on just to torture myself because it was so creepy. Diamond Dogs is such a theatrical record. It’s so diverse and dramatic. It changes throughout the record and every song sounds different - it’s like a storybook or something. It had a gatefold sleeve that the lyrics were printed out on and that was the kind of shit that I loved to look at and read while he sang. Bowie’s my hero and I’ve cited him in every interview I’ve ever done. I met him once when I was just starting out on Virgin Records. I was backstage with my manager and they arranged for this meeting, he came out and sat with me, we spoke about being on the same label and me having a record coming out. It was so cool, it was like meeting a president or something, he was still so otherworldly and unattainable. It was very brief, and it was very formal. I maybe could have met him in different circumstances at some point along the line, but I’m glad I didn’t. He remains this ever-changing mythical character. I love him."

"This is probably my absolute favourite record ever made. I remember driving to my friend's house and he put 'The Sad Skinhead' on I remember thinking, ""What the hell was that?"" When he said it was Faust, I had heard of them but had no idea what they sounded like. I remember going off and trying to 'find' the band on my own – I wanted to discover them for myself and not have people tell me which was the best record, or which were the best songs to listen to. I wanted to go off and discover Faust for myself. It was when I listened to Faust IV from beginning to end that I was absolutely blown away. It's playful, it's beautiful, it's exciting – it starts with a 10-minute Krautrock song and then goes into this weird, all-over-the-place song which has no rules. And I love that. The conviction of it is tongue-in-cheek in places, which I am almost jealous of - it even ends with a song called 'It's A Bit Of A Pain'! For me it has the best attitude of any album I have heard. Also, I must mention the extraordinary sound of everything – the placement of all the little weird guitar parts. It's almost like you can close your eyes and pinpoint where everything is coming in. There is so much I love about the record but its attitude is the most prevalent thing. I hope it has seeped into my music. It's what I try go for when I am in the studio – to try and record in as short amount of time, so that I can achieve a sense of spontaneity. I cannot achieve that during lengthy recording sessions – it would iron all of that stuff out. For me, recording really quickly means you can keep some of that playful attitude that I so love on this record."

"This is from Rock 'n' Roll Animal, which I don’t listen to anymore and haven’t for years. I prefer to listen to - and really enjoy - other versions of ‘Sweet Jane’ much more. This has the big dual-electric guitar thing going on, and a long intro before he comes onstage. You can hear the audience respond after it’s gone on for several minutes and gone through all this sort of classic rock sounding stuff, which I liked a little bit when I first heard it, but now it doesn’t really speak to me. I’m remembering it because he’s coming onstage and the way he starts singing. I think this was first album that I had, or got out of a library, that I was able to listen to a bunch of times. I listened to it a lot of times and I really liked the song. Shortly after that, the brother I stayed with in New York City, who took me to the Johnny Thunders show, had actually been at the concert that they recorded Lou Reed’s Rock 'n' Roll Animal. He and friends were there, they were way in the back. They did two shows, two sets, with two audiences. For the next one they didn’t have all the seats filled in the front, so my brother and his friends got invited to be up front for the second show, so one of those crowd people screaming or yelling could have been him. He was there at the show and that was a little extra or bonus I found out after the fact. Speaking of that, it’s possible that I got a lot of stuff out of a library and kept checking things out, he would give me some albums for Christmas or a birthday, so it’s possible that that one came from him as well - which sort of makes sense if he was there at that concert!"

"When I was about ten, I was given The Compact King Crimson on cassette tape and that’s what led me to “21st Century Schizoid Man.” This song is from In the Court of the Crimson King, which has the screaming face on the cover, and the face is inspired by the Arthur Janov book The Primal Scream. Primal Therapy: The Cure for Neurosis. “My Dad told me that at the time of the book and album there was a real fad for going out into nature and screaming guttural sounds. It became this zeitgeist self-help technique and I believe that’s what influenced the book, but essentially, it’s a guy having an existential meltdown and the song taps into that. “I think because I was young when I heard it, I didn’t appreciate this more complex meaning, and at the time I just appreciated the sheer aggression of the music. It was also the first time I’d ever heard those complicated time signatures and polyrhythms, as well as the combination of distorted guitar and saxophone. ""I hadn’t grown up on jazz, so I sort of thought it was for nerds, but when I heard this and heard the sax on the time signatures I was like ‘This is like jazz rock’. In the Court of the Crimson King is hailed by lots of people - like Shellac - as the first Math Rock or Post Rock record. They also invented heavy metal if you think about it, because they were doing riffs before Black Sabbath. “Our first album, Making Dens, is heavily indebted to King Crimson. We very much wore our influences on our sleeve in the beginning, and we had this approach of throwing everything including the kitchen sink at our songwriting. Whenever I listen to Making Dens, I hear the chaos of a band trying to sound like King Crimson. They’ve been a big influence for Mystery Jets."

"Yeah, my mum bought it for Christmas. I must've been 18 at the time or something. I find it quite cool that my mum actually went into a record shop and asked for Metal Box by Public Image! There were only a few thousand made, so it was limited edition. But I was a huge PiL fan, I loved the Sex Pistols, Johnny Rotten/Lydon and when the Pistols split, everybody was waiting to see what he's going to come back with. Nobody could believe that he would return with this. They sounded like nothing you'd heard before. The first track, 'Albatross', is basically listening to Lydon screaming that he wishes he would die for ten minutes, or a junkyard having a nervous breakdown! The album has these metallic smashes and clangs, which I'd never heard in music before. This is considered one of the first post-punk albums, alongside the Siouxsie and the Banshees record, but before Metal Box, it would probably have been Pere Ubu's first album. From a UK fan's perspective, Banshees and PiL would have made the first post-punk records. We'd bought 'Death Disco' on 12"" records, but to buy an album in a canister, cut and mastered really loudly, bursting out of my speakers was something strange. These were not rock & roll songs, they didn't have a lot of dynamic to them at times either. They were danceable though, with a disco drumbeat, a dub reggae bass, playing Swan Lake on guitar, with Lydon screaming about his mother having cancer over the top of it and ending up on Top Of The Pops. That's avant-garde being taken into the fuckin' mainstream. To me that's very revolutionary and subversive. It was a real howl from the soul. Every time I listen to Metal Box, I remember what it was like to live in Britain in the late '70s when I was a teenager. It was a grey, damp, repressive country and that record reflects the state and times perfectly. It was a snapshot of the times."

"Something about what he does make you feel like he's doing it from this room, it's so intimate. Hang on – have I got his name wrong? Oh wait, I haven't. He has gigged a lot as a singer songwriter so I think he translates that when he makes a record. This record went mad [in terms of popularity] but someone gave this record to me before he blew up. When I listen to this particular album, I just had the feeling like I'm in the room with him. I don't know whether he wants it to be intimate but it is. Some of the arrangements are mad, with the length of the intros and so on. You're never gonna get that on the radio! Who's gonna do that? The intros are 48 bars long or its him scratching around and doing other things. There's a real beauty in that but he also seems to have thought 'I don't really care.' Is this reflected in my own work? I think my own new record is a hotchpotch of things. The first track is called 'Beautiful Life' and anyone who's heard it has said 'you've gone a bit Nile Rodgers there with the guitar!' But that's inescapable, it's the way it is if you use that sound. And the very last track is that love letter back to prog rock and subconsciously, I've thought 'the last record did alright so now I'm doing whatever I want'. And I was doing it without anticipating anyone ever hearing it, if I'm brutally honest. My fans – yes but not Radio 2 or whatever. With this one, I've gone in without a clock and just played. I went in my room, my wife went to States, I had a bit of fun, went mad, had a load of ideas and made a record. And here we are with 'Beautiful Life'."

"For the rest of these songs we’re closer to now. My Father-in-law introduced me to this, he’s not a musician by trade but he grew up in the hippy era and was really into blues. He has all of these reference points, music that went totally over the head of my generation. The reference points from that period for my generation are a totally different set of people, Jimi Hendrix or music that even my Father-in-law didn’t know at the time, like the Jim Sullivan record that people are digging out as an undiscovered gem. “I would never have discovered Charlie Musselwhite but for my Father-in-law. He was excited that I was a musician and we could hang out and talk about records, sometimes it doesn’t work and his taste will veer in directions that I totally can’t get into, but he’s introduced me to some great music that I love, like Professor Longhair records. ""I heard this in 2009, after Veckatimest and it was really striking because it’s so straight-up and straightforward. It’s the most minimal 6/8 blues tune and it’s very simple, the drums, organ and guitar line don’t change, the harmonica does the melody and a simple solo and that’s it. There’s these beautiful little contained elements, all the sounds are super lush and it’s another kind of subtlety, the attention to tone is so specific. It’s really elegant and hip, but in a totally different realm, a blues perspective from a totally different era, it’s like what Beach House would have been if they were a blues band in 1962. “It’s not trying to do anything revolutionary, it’s just exactly what it is, great playing without trying to be great playing. It’s so personal and visceral and sometimes you really need that sort of music. It’s the simplicity and soulfulness, it’s so minimal and especially going into Shields we started talking about that more and more, having that sense of space"

"For me, this is very much a hallmark of where I was able fit in musically in my career. When I started out I was in Montreal, but went to New York periodically and failed miserably with what I was trying to do. It was right at the time that Jeff Buckley was on the rise, and grunge, and that whole movement was incredibly heterosexual, incredibly nihilistic, incredibly guitar-based and very, very dark. I admired it, I'm not against that, but when I was dropped into that equation I was this gay piano-playing opera queen who wanted to be romantic and harken back to other more refined eras. What I was trying to do just didn't make any sense in New York. People would often try to categorise me and say I was cabaret or that I should be doing Broadway. It was very complicated and I never figured it out. Then I was signed to Dreamworks, by Lenny Waronker – whom I believe helped make Pet Sounds. I went to Los Angeles and suddenly realised that I was definitely more part of the Brian Wilson tradition. Whether it was him or Randy Newman or Van Dyke Parks or Harry Nilsson, there was a kind of spot that I could fit into. So I listened a lot to Pet Sounds. You can hear it somewhat on my new album, songs like the last track 'Alone Time', but all through my career there's been a real concentration on harmonies and interesting chord changes and a dreamlike quality. I was able to find my niche through that tradition, as opposed to the East Coast. I have a lot to thank Brian Wilson for, he allowed me to inhabit my world comfortably, as opposed to when I was in New York and I was a total anathema to what was happening there. I can't say that I listened to the album obsessively or that I'm obsessed with him and know all his work, but I definitely feel I am a Wilsonite."