"Oh man, that's just a classic record. I listen to it now when I'm composing, because it's very atmospheric. I think that's Brian Eno's shine. I like the lead guitars on it and the way Bowie plays the guitar. A one-of-a-kind I think - it doesn't really sound like a Bowie album. I met him during a pre-break-up tour, and I asked him, "Do you play rhythm in 'Sound And Vision'?" because I love that rhythm. So I was on the side of the stage with his guitar tech and when he started playing the song, he lifted the guitar and looked at the guitar tech and me and went, "See!" The guitar tech turned up his guitar because he thought he needed to check if the guitars were in tune. But Bowie had this signal, he said, "Turn it up for Joey!" And I thought, "Shit, he is playing it!" That was very cool of him, such a nice guy."

"This is a record I discovered long after the fact, but it’s become one of my favorite albums of all time. I love it even more because it comes from that magical late ‘80s period when there was so much amazing music being made. It’s like other records I’ve chosen because it has its own sound that permeates every track on the record. A while back, I treated myself to an original pressing of this. It was one of the few times in my life I have actually bought one of the albums that hang on the wall of a record store rather than in the racks! It was expensive at the time, I think around £30, but when I think about how many rounds of drinks I bought that cost more than that, it feels like money well spent. This is Larry Heard, the bedroom genius; it’s such a distilled version of his talents. And as such, I found it really inspirational when I started to want to make my own electronic music. I record under the name GLOK and Mr. Fingers is one of my main influences. My favorites are ‘Can You Feel It’ and ‘Washing Machine,’ but it’s all excellent."

"I’m not in love with John Ford’s movies. They are staples, and it’s like saying you don’t like bread—Ford’s films are in all filmmakers’ foundations, somewhere, it’s inescapable. But when it comes to being in love with movies, I’m more of an Anthony Mann girl. Having said this, Ford’s Young Mr. Lincoln is one of the most beautiful films ever made. The images early in the film of Henry Fonda in his thick, unruly, natural environment of rivers and briars and brambles strike my heart in ways so deep I can’t even explain. The majestic landscapes Ford would be later known for are much more grounded here, more personal. What he shot reminds me of a home so far ago lost. And there is a feeling of that, deeper than nostalgia, running all through this film. It’s like a grand American ache. Henry Fonda explains on the commentary how he initially turned the film down, then the screenwriters went to his house and READ HIM THE SCRIPT! Out loud! What balls! I can’t imagine anyone doing that these days. Then he said yes to the part, did the screen test with the fake nose and flipped out when he saw himself as Lincoln and felt he couldn’t do it—he couldn’t play someone with that weight that Lincoln had and still carries and holds. Well—I won’t spoil it for you—you MUST hear what very simple ingenious thing grumpy old Ford said to get Fonda to do the role. Supporting Fonda’s performance is an incredible cast—Alice Brady in her final performance before her early death, Ward Bond, and Richard Cromwell (whom I had a real sweet thing for)! The booklet is just as poetic as the movie, with essays by Geoffrey O’Brien and Sergei Eisenstein between the pages of lovely quiet stills of a very accessible yet long-gone American landscape."