"This is off the back of Faust IV being my all-time favourite record. Fille Qui Mousse translates to 'Girl Foam' which is the best name for a project. I found this, again, about a year-and-a-half ago when we were trying to buy records for the apartment. I was in a record shop called Permanent Records in Eagle Rock [in Los Angeles]. I sometimes struggle going to record shops as they are often overwhelming, but in Permanent Records everything was in its right place and the staff would write little notes on the records. There was a sticker that said, ""Do you like Faust IV? Then you will love this record!"" That was enough for me, so I bought it. It's one of those records I put on when I have started cooking or something and I will forget that the record is on. Something will happen on the record and I will think, ""Oh my god, this is amazing!"" It is just the spilling out of someone's brains – it's playful and has hints of the United States Of America at points but then it is totally steeped in this weird jazz-Krautrock. There is a track on it called 'Magic-Bag' which is just the guy singing along to the drums and playing the same rhythm as what he is singing and there is water running in the background. The first time I took notice of the song I thought it was so shit. I don't know exactly what he is singing, but it sounds like ""I like my chunky rocky lane"" and then there is a huge gap and there is water running and he comes back singing ""I like my chunky rocky lane"". The fact that he liked his 'chunky rocky lane' made me realise it was one of the best songs on the album. It's a record that can suddenly surprise you. It's when you are trying to get your teeth into something and at the beginning it is difficult but it keeps reappearing and ends up being something absolutely incredible that you end up loving. It's hugely playful, weird and beautiful at points and abrasive at others. It's huge fun to listen to."

"I came to this record through the Encyclopaedia Of Jazz. As a teenager I played a lot of jazz piano, but more like learning how to play bop or more traditional types of jazz. And I was getting to the point where I was starting to find out about Sun Ra and some of the weirder stuff that was out there, and I was working through the encyclopaedia and I crossed every record off the list if I thought it would be far out and interesting. We had a scam going at the time. HMV in Toronto was pretty relaxed and you could return things for cash value immediately. So I'd go in and buy a stack of ten CDs and I'd just got a CD burner - this was like 1997 - so I'd take them home and burn them all and then take them straight back. And they'd be like, ""You've got the entire recorded work of The Beatles here - you didn't find anything that you liked on there?"" And I'd be like, ""No these are all rubbish, sorry."" And I did the same with John Coltrane. Then I can remember getting to the Albert Ayler page of the encyclopaedia and you know how there's that snooty canonisation thing with jazz music where somebody like Wynton Marsalis or one of those conservative types would be like, ""This guy lost the plot. He went off the deep end."" But this record blew me away. I got this and Interstellar Space, the John Coltrane album, and they both have long periods of free-form wildness on them. But the thing I loved about Albert Ayler is the melodies on the songs - again, a lot of them sound the same, but they feel so elemental to me. It's another record where I feel like those melodies have been there since the beginning of time and it just took him to play them. The sound of his saxophone is so amazing. It's super far-out and forward-looking. If that's too out there for you, there's this album by him called New Grass, where he hired a rock band, and it's like some A&R man had tried to make him have a hit record. There's a song on it called 'Heart Love' - it's less far-out but it has his crazy saxophone playing on it, but with a beautiful melody and this free-soul singing on it."