"I chose that because it made its biggest impact on me, because it was the first one I heard [of all of Cat Power's albums]. I remember hearing 'I Found A Reason', which was her Velvet Underground cover, on John Peel late at night when I was driving around and having a cigarette when I shouldn't have been. And I heard John Peel saying ""listen to this amazing release by Cat Power, 'I Found A Reason'"". I just remember hearing it and being like this is a woman I can love forever. I went to see her promote The Covers Record at this tiny gig at Bush Hall. She went on stage in front of maybe 100 people and then totally freaked out, then she was fine and she played some amazing songs and me and my boyfriend sat right at the front. We got to meet her and she just cuddled us: ""You sent such good vibes throughout the whole show, I was looking at you the whole time because was everybody else was so scary"", and I was just like ""I love you!"" So it was just interesting; the other reason I chose The Covers Record is because her interpretations of 'Wild Is The Wind' or 'Satisfaction', 'Sea Of Love', it's like picking out classic songs, like The Langley Schools Music Project, and turning them on their head. For me, in 'Wild Is The Wind', that song could be David Bowie's version, it's sad, it's quite mellow, but she's just distilled it down to one particular aspect, which is really heartbreaking, dark chords, really so minimal. I love doing covers myself. I love changing your whole take on them and exploring a completely different side and changing the arrangements, and the chords even, and changing the lyrics sometimes, it almost becomes a poem that you're putting to something different. I think she's a connoisseur at that and probably because she doesn't play amazing piano and guitar, she does really simple backing, but it becomes almost like this spoken word poem. When she performs, she pushes herself to the edge. The fact that she finds it so hard, you're living with her on the edge when you go to see her and sometimes it's frustrating and you get fed up with her, sometimes you're just willing her the whole way through and in love. I think it's really interesting, the emotions it brings up in the audience, how they deal with that - some people get really fucking angry and some people cry. I think it's like a really interesting psychological public experiment at some of her shows I've been to - I've been to maybe twenty of her shows, and sometimes it's a very uncomfortable, strange process, but it's like Andy Kaufman and stand-up comedians or public artists that just stage these really bizarre events and people's reactions to those. With most people, you go along, and they're there to put on a show and be competent and be amazing, and that's what people think they're paying for these days. We've said about the Langley Schools thing, she never grew out of that childlike weirdness; there's something about all of it that's unapologetic and being you, and if that presses people's buttons because they want you to be something else, they want you to carry them through, then I find that really interesting as well, what it does to the listener. What do you want from an album or a musician? What I want is to be taken to their rawest place. If that's uncomfortable sometimes, then that's cool. You just have to be with people and accept them."

"I'm gonna go for a topical one... Obviously Stuart Adamson came out of The Skids. John Peel called him the Scottish Hendrix, and I loved The Skids. Absolutely loved them. Then he went on to form Big Country. And first of all I had to take a step back from it, but I just loved the way he put myths and folklore - Scottish folklore - into music, but he also linked it up with the modern day era. All those myths and belief systems were very prescient of modern day culture: how people use music to deal with loss, how people use music to deal with lostness in society, with poverty, with trying to strive to remain above the dignity level. And I thought that was quite a noble ambition for a musician, really. Lots of musicians have done that in different guises, but because Big Country was wrapped up in a certain Scottishness in the music, and what some people have called the Celtic mist in their music, they were utterly pilloried in the press. I love the music press and I love music journalism, but sometimes the music press have to be called to account, and they should give the musical kudos and reparations to Big Country and Stuart Adamson, who's sadly not with us. I also used to think, why is it that Billy Bragg's allowed to have a folk edge to him? The Men They Couldn't Hang had a folk edge to them; The Pogues were allowed to have a folklore edge to them, and people find it acceptable with The Pogues because they could get drunk to it. But Big Country were mercilessly slammed for being Scottish, whining, bagpipes… I look back and think it's a music journalism crime, what happened to them, and what happened to Stuart Adamson. You look at the album and you've just got so many songs which just touch upon the post-Thatcher unemployment that was going on in Scotland at the time... And the English-based press just absolutely slammed him for it; they just thought he was a man dealing in myth and outdated folklore and I think it's disgusting. I remember, in the sleevenotes, he said he understood the power of music way before he understood its language, and that's what he was trying to do with Big Country. It was a noble, amazing achievement which was treated with… what would you call it? Just London-dominated disdain. I'd like to redress that just by picking it. A folk influence is very much allowed in English music today, whether it be fucking Frank Bloke or Mumford And Sons with their Cath Kidston version of it. It's allowed through the gate; it's allowed to sell millions; it's allowed to have a voice. So there is a symbolism there. It's enough to make you want to be independent, the way Big Country were treated by the music press!"