"On the first Strokes tour we had a Libertines demo on the bus. I remember thinking 'Oh man there's already a British version of The Strokes? That's fast, this is only the first tour!' Not that they were, but that was the perception around them. What is so cool about The Libertines is in fact that they're in that tradition of great British bands that really draw on being British to make a very special version of rock. The Sex Pistols are in that tradition, The Clash, all these really cool English bands that make you want to be some sort of geezer and know what a "two bob cunt" is. So being label mates with The Libertines and becoming friend with them they indoctrinated me into this whole British universe: listening to Chas And Dave, that comedian Tony Hancock and all kinds of weird British shit. In a way they became this vital group that almost channeled Lord Byron or Percy Shelley. They were almost a subculture unto themselves. At a time when England is in such a flux, their music reminds everyone why people love what being British is. The way they re-appropriated Albion and Blake's vision of England, it was just really beautiful. Their version of British, for me as a New Yorker, immediately made me want to learn about London and go to all these places. Their first record was a calling for people to learn about the history of England, their music made you want to educate yourself, but it is also so fucking catchy. I covered their song 'What A Waster' while they were in New York. They were recording 'Don't Look Back Into The Sun' at a studio but they were making these endless demo tapes that eventually appeared as the 'Babyshambles Sessions'. My version of their song was recorded while they were doing those. For me they were a band that birthed a new romantic movement in England."

"It probably won't be too much of a surprise that I picked this. I knew the Dinosaur L tracks and the big ones from compilations, and I didn't really know anything about who Arthur Russell was, until this was reissued in 2004. I was finishing my PhD at the time, trying to get something mathematical done and listening to this record over and over again. It's the kind of a record you can do something else to, but I always used to get really distracted by it. It still sounds like absolutely nothing else to me, it was such a revelation. He's such an amazing melodist and it's so sonically stimulating and different - that processed cello and voice, you still don't hear that anywhere else. But also the way the record is structured. There are parts of it that feel half-finished. It feels more like a collection of demos that were made spontaneously. It's not like a Hendrix album where everything would be meticulously produced, though there's something really wonderful about that. The life wasn't squeezed out of it. His voice has been so important for me. I was already singing on my music before I heard this, but I was always disguising my voice as much as possible. His voice is so beautiful and distinctive, but it's not the classical idea of what a singer should be. So it gave me a way in to singing on my own tracks, even though my voice is weak and pedestrian. It's a way for those of us who are non-traditional singers to not have to think about comparing ourselves - y'know, I'm a singer, and Marvin Gaye's a singer… He's like the vocal equivalent of a Stradivarius. But it gave me a way of thinking about singing that wasn't about being professional; it's about embracing the amateurishness and foibles of my voice."

"Again, I've gone for the "pop" album - I've gone for the greatest hit. I thought about all his records and the minimalist composers, and I could have gone for a Terry Riley record or whatever, but there's a reason this is his hit. I could come back and listen to this any time. One of the greatest live music experiences of my life was when Steve Reich had his 70th birthday at the Barbican, and he came over with his musicians and did nearly all of his classic pieces. I saw Drumming and other stuff, and then I saw this at a little church across the street from the Barbican and it's so beautiful, so gorgeous. Really, really moving. Having said that, this year Kieran and I booked a trip of DJ gigs because we hadn't seen each other in a while, and we played the Snowbombing festival in Austria, which was hilarious. We were driving around, so we hired my friend who's this really placid Czech guy. He's the driver on all my tours and I've never seen him get agitated about anything ever. Most people who drive primarily for a living are prone to road rage, but I've never seen him lose it. So he asked us if we wanted to put on any music so on went Music For 18 Musicians. He's not really a music fan - if you put on Albert Ayler he'd be like, "Jesus Christ, what are you trying to do to me here?!" So we were driving through the Alps, I was chatting to him and Kieran and listening to this piece of music that I love. I didn't really notice but he'd gone silent and 40 minutes in he was like, "Um, excuse me, this music's driving me insane, can we please turn it off?" To me it's the opposite of that, it's the most soothing music possible, so I guess that illustrates that it's not for everyone."

"I was probably 21 and I was doing a lot of driving between North and South Wales. Two of my friends that I was making music with lived in a beautiful cottage in the mountains. There isn't a very good radio reception on the A470, and I was driving a classic car – a Proton! – which had a tape player. I would go to Cob Records in Porthmadog and buy a handful of tapes – classics like Michael Jackson and Madonna that would always get preference in the tape player. They were real sing-along records that were great for driving. Eventually, I remember being absolutely sick to the back teeth of them and decided to give the album Barrett a go. I knew who Syd Barrett was but never really had collected his music. I put this tape in and could not make head nor tail of what I was listening to. I couldn't unravel the songs from the music that was going on. But, weirdly, on these drives I had the compulsion to keep putting it in the tape player and because it was a tape I couldn't be bothered to do any fast-forwarding or rewinding to try and find the next song or flick through impatiently to the final song that I liked. I kind of just had to stick it out with this record. Amazingly, eventually all these songs began to show themselves and what had started off as a really arduous task became hugely, hugely rewarding. For that reason – it being a record I genuinely fell in love with and now absolutely love – I feel wholly thankful that I got it on a tape as opposed to any other format, as I think I could have completely missed it or not stuck with it. It is one of those albums that maybe I don't listen to very often anymore, but I have wonderful memories of and love deeply."