"That's a record that Jack [Bevan] from Foals had discovered when we were living in Oxford writing Total Life Forever and there were eight of us in one house: other musicians, no TV, just a record player in the fireplace. The house was falling apart and that record was the soundtrack to that whole period, 2009 to 2011. It was the record I felt envious of not having made. They did something that I felt I was close to being able to make but also superior, and it wasn't what I'd made! I thought: ""Shit, they got there first!"" It's a strange record from a strange group because they seem underappreciated and under-exposed and never really play live. We ended up going to record in Gothenburg and we met Dan Lissvik on this industrial estate in the winter. He talked about how life is a pendulum and he sits above it; he was chain smoking and was a good guy. The record itself though is somebody's idea of West Coast hip-hop filtered through a suburban Swedish kid's imagination. It is at odds with what Gothenburg is like in the winter. The production on it is amazing, with elements of interlocking guitars, but it's freer and maybe it helped us loosen some of the strictness that was in the band at the beginning sonically."

"They were one of, if not the first, rock & roll male bands that I was really attracted to. I am definitely a female-orientated person, that's just the way I am. I don't go gaga over every single male rockstar that comes out, I sort of tend to be way more interested in the female narrative. But who can resist The Clash? [Laughs] even I could not resist The Clash. 

 I was thrilled by the sound and also the style; they felt like a real gang to me. It really captured my imagination and I wanted to be in The Clash. They still are, arguably, one of the coolest male rock bands of all time, if not the coolest rock band of all time. There's not anybody really that touches them. I love the political bias in their writing and I love the raucousness of it – and I thought they were fucking hot as fuck [laughs]. 

 Again, just amazing songs. Like, I associate 'Rock the Casbah' with a lot of great parties that I went to around about that time. There was a lot of finger-fucking going on to The Clash, an innocent but erotic memory. My sexuality was beginning to really explode when I discovered The Clash so I always associate it with that kind of hotness. It's just The Clash equals hotness. End of story."

"That one was going to be the last track on the album, so we had to leave an emotional impact there. It wasn't hard to think like that, given the subject of the song. With a lot of Bowie's songs, you found you were not only being a musician, but a bit of an actor as well. You had to get in there and use your imagination at the same time as your drumming skills to communicate those lyrics with any sort of conviction. You didn't want to say: 'Go out and commit suicide', of course, so you had to find a way of playing it so it didn't communicate that but rather identified with how someone like that might feel at the end of the world – that whole concept. It's one of my favorite tracks. It doesn't need a lot from the drums, bass and guitar. There are times when it breaks down to just the bass drum, and that bass drum needs to be played with despair. So, it was interesting as an emotional song to play. Everything seemed to leave it hanging on that bass drum, so you couldn't play it flippantly. It was how you emotionally felt and getting that across with just your foot on the drum pedal. You look back on that track and think it was pretty risky – especially on his part!"