"This is a very personal selection. I was 13 years old and was falling into bad musical company - Red Hot Chili Peppers, Limp Bizkit and all the music that the hot boys at school were into - and coming home and threatening to get a Chili Pepper tattoo. I think my father had had enough and told me to listen to an album as he thought I might like it. He needed to pull something out of the bag and steer me onto a good path. My dad loved Pavement. It was the first time I had heard music that I felt was mine. I didn't know anything about the band – whether they were dead or alive. It didn't matter that it was music that my friends weren't listening too – it eclipsed all of that. I just remember being really struck by how the songs would trickle in all these different kinds of directions and would have all of these weird guitar solos. They weren't as formulaic as the guitar songs I was used to from all of the terrible music I was listening to at school. I became absolutely fascinated with Pavement and I didn't care that no one at school had heard of them. It was the beginning of having the courage to say, "This is the music I like and I don't care if anyone puts it down.""

"You can hear it's making, in the same way you can hear Joni in her lonely love cabin. Just the idea of the moon cast out on the water. That paints a picture. I can hear excitement and new love all over that Melody's Echo Chamber record. When my last relationship ended a few years ago now, I pissed off to New York for a bit, just to sort of gather my thoughts, and I would take to sitting in a cafe with my headphones on, listening to a piece of music and I had put together words to it in a book. And I remember being quite pleased with something I had just written, taking my headphones off, and that music, Melody's Echo Chamber, was playing on the sound system in the cafe. I listened to it, spellbound, you could just feel the excitement in it. I was listening to that, and I just looked away, who is this? And I shut my book and felt like giving up music. It was just so fucking good. And actually at the end of a tune, you hear them all whooping in the studio. It's like when you hear the Kinks whooping during 'Victoria' – when you're hitting a certain level of energy, bang on the nose, you're allowed to record yourself whooping at your own efforts I think."

"Listening to this in Brazil a few years ago was a proper Eureka moment for me. We'd moved to the middle of nowhere for seven months, and I decided to properly have some time properly listening to music, so got a lot of stuff off Thom on a hard drive. I was really into Burial and that side of dubstep back then. Stuff that works perfectly underneath railway arches at 3am strangely enough didn't resonate on the edge of the rainforest, though. What did was Screamadelica. 

I'd first heard Loaded when I was studying at Manchester University in 1990. I remember it coming out after 'Fools Gold' and 'Hallelujah', and seeing Primal Scream on a double-header with Looper. I remember thinking, ah, this is good, a bit different for them, but they're jumping on the bandwagon, aren't they? Later, 'Don't Fight It Feel It' became the ultimate tune of that time for me. But away from that time, this album still stands alone. It's so colourful. It's like gospel dance music. It's got all the euphoria of house music, plus the community and love. It reminded me that that moment in culture wasn't just about the drugs – those drugs were just there to pierce the veil. Music held the ultimate power to bring people up. I want my music to have that joy, that light, that sense of possibility."