"Another movie I love is a movie called Claudine. James L. Jones is in that movie. Diahann Carroll is in this movie. Oh man, I’m not a big crier, but the movie resonates and just stays with me the whole time. You know what? I used to love some Diahann Carroll, brother. The movie was about a single mother who meets a guy and they end up falling in love. He takes on this whole family. She had like five kids, living in Harlem, with five kids, and this guy was a regular garbage man who had kids of his own. He was trying to balance his old life and the stress of being a father to his own kids. But at the same time he loved this woman, he loved her kids, and he wanted to do better for her. He wanted to be with her, but he just tried to work everything out. He ended up leaving her, and then coming back because he loved the kids, and they ended up getting married and all that kind of stuff. All the trial, the jubilation — it’s all about family and what they go through. The growing pains, you know, how the kids fell in love with him and they ended up looking for him, and he broke their heart. Claudine is a beautiful movie. I went at 13 years old, man. I was in love with Diahann Carroll at 13 years old. I don’t know if I could’ve stepped in those shoes and been a daddy to these little kids, but I loved her, she was a beautiful lady."

"That would have come out in 1998 when I was around 17. My record collection at that point was mainly made up of U2, Radiohead, The Beatles, The Smiths. I hadn’t really been an indie kid in that sense of going to see bands and being part of that kind of world, because where we all grew up as a band, there just wasn’t a music scene at all! So we just spent our time making music, we never went to see much. Gomez is one of those total, bonafide, university, indie bands. It’s such an inventive record for a brand new band to burst onto the scene with. I loved the fact there were two singers with such contrasting voices. They’re all great songs, 'Here Comes The Breeze', 'Tijuana Lady'… it chimed in with where I was at the time, just getting out of school, smoking dope for the first time and experimenting with drugs. The album has that sense of youthful abandon. You can tell they were just fearless; maybe that’s what stopped them in the end from going on. I always feel that Gomez should have been a much more important band. I remember being up at University in Edinburgh, I got the National Express down to London one night, it was so uncomfortable, I got off at every stop and was getting smashed on this very strong weed and then going back on, and I had a proper old school Discman, and I was just listening to this Gomez record, up all night. I got to London, full of beans and was like, “We’ve gotta be this inventive!”"

"The critics and the public wanted the pathos of M. Hulot’s Holiday and Mon oncle. They got Playtime, a comedy entirely devoted to space, in which Tati, as Hulot, hovers at the periphery of his own creation and has the elegance, which very few comedians share, not to put the spotlight on his own mug. The public and the critics turned against Tati. They were of course wrong, and the film is one of those few that get better by the year. It’s a silent film with sound; its color scheme is in a narrow band between gray and blue that aggressively underscores the painterly logic of Tati’s conceit. The film gives itself the luxury to reinvent choreography and as such dazzles with the megalomania of its enterprise and the diabolical precision the filmmaker had to conjure up to pull it off. There is ultimately so much to see, so many discrete pockets of activities in such a large canvas, that Tati has ensured that his film can be revisited time and again and each time seem different and new. It is a monumental film, literally and figuratively, that in its humorous take on modernity retains a form of hope. Alienation, but alienation light, and still the hope that the strategic social planning of architects and designers has cracks and will allow folks to run for daylight for the reassertion of their humanity. And, yes, a detail: the exquisite quality of this transfer is one of the reasons we spend our allowance on votive candles for the altar of Our Little Lady of the Criterion Collection."

"Fuck, I was so excited when I heard this song. I was staying up late one night - I can’t remember what radio show I was listening to, it was a radio that would play new songs - and I taped it off the radio. It was just so fucking cool, [sings “Dy-Na-Mi-Tee”]. I think that was the first song I heard where I thought ‘I could write a song.’ “After that I did my first ever performance in public. I’d done a school performance before that, but I did a performance with a garage MC who asked me to sing and I was ‘Lady K’ [laughs]. I sang in Croydon at a pub or something and I was doing the garage thing for a bit. That was the biggest music scene at that time in the UK, pirate radio was bigger than normal radio. I would go clubbing in Watford, I would grind in the clubs and I would get CDs from the DJs there who would have all new stuff. “That sort of reminds me of punk in a way, it was just kids in their bedrooms and they were running the clubs. I felt Ms. Dynamite did something really meaningful and she felt like a political artist to me. I don’t think I knew that at the time, but I think that’s why I was drawn in by her. I was looking at lyrics in a different way then too, thinking about the world a lot and wanting to help the world, maybe being political and not realising it. I wanted to write about the fucked up shit in the world."