"This song was a really pivotal moment in my life, it was the first record I ever bought and it was by a complete fluke. ‘Jeepster’ was in a bargain box for 10p and it happened to have a photograph of Marc Bolan and Mickey Finn on the label, that was unusual, it was rare to have a photograph on the label and Marc Bolan looked androgynous, very beautiful, mysterious and quite weird. “So at the age of ten I took a punt on this thing. With that money I could have bought a few comics and an ice lolly, I’d have taken the stick and put it in the wheel of my bike, which was very important! But I bought ‘Jeepster’ instead and I did that thing of walking home and looking and looking at it. Fifteen minutes later I put in on and it snagged my attention straightaway, I had to pay attention to it, but it was pop music. “I listen to it now and it’s quite lo-fi, but even then I had an awareness it sounded like people in a room and that it was pretty rough, which was a bit of an ask for a little kid, it certainly wasn’t music for 10 year olds, 15 year olds maybe. I heard the sound of his guitar and why the hell I was hearing bongos in there as well was really intriguing to me. Before it was three quarters of the way through I was planning on playing it again and trying to find out how this thing worked. “The riff is funky without being James Brown and his limitations as a guitar player were really useful on all of his records up until ‘20th Century Boy’, which was very brutal. ‘Jeepster’ is very funky but he’s almost playing with the same limitations of John Lee Hooker, if he was any better - a Ritchie Blackmore or an Eric Clapton - it wouldn’t have been nearly as interesting because it would have sounded too bland, accomplished and slick. He’s hanging in there a bit, particularly on the outro, the riff is so dumb a more accomplished guitar player wouldn’t have been heard dead playing it. It’s so gauche, but it’s probably the best bit of music on the record. “Then there’s the way the band go in and out of time. I picked that up the third time I listened to it and that was really amazing, because on the radio at the time it was The Osmond’s ‘Love Me for a Reason’, The Carpenters, Andy Williams and all this slick, easy listening stuff, but this was a real pre-Glam record. “It identified me, I was ‘I know what it is to be a fan of this thing of my own now.’ I’d seen my parents be fans and to this day they’re fans of bands, but because I became a fan of this guy I was getting all these signals - particularly from girls’ magazines - about what it was to be a fan and having posters on my walls. The Smiths were very aware of that dynamic. “I grew up very close to my sister, who was eleven months younger than me and I’m glad that was something that happened for me, because I had a real sense of what she liked. I’d almost been like a twin, what they call an Irish twin with my sister, and it gave me a genuine appreciation of how great it was to be a girl. “It’s a fantastic function of pop culture, that shifting to take in different gender roles both ways, with people like Lady Gaga and Richey Manic. Marc Bolan was beautiful and he sounded really beautiful, the sound of a soft voice singing in a Rock and Roll way over a rock band has never really left me and that’s probably evident on my solo stuff. “Because of the photograph of Marc Bolan on the sleeve, his androgyny and the way he was singing, it was my first independent connection of seeing a different image of masculinity. I was very, very aware of that, because he was obviously wearing make-up and he was very pretty. I was hearing this guy singing in quite an effeminate voice and I owned the record, so I’d better love it. It wasn’t that I was just loving the music, I’d invested in this thing where this guy was like a woman and that was really exciting."

"Blind Joe Death was kind of John Fahey’s alter ego. He wanted to put out records under a different name and pretend he was an old obscure bluesman. He was obsessed with collecting these old obscure records that informed his American primitive style and he went on these quests down South to look for old 78 records with a couple of friends of his. Eventually they found this artist Skip James and rejuvenated his career. James wasn’t in music at all any more and he was someone they revered. Fahey was steeped in this whole mythology of his early period of these recording heroes that weren’t on television, weren’t on the magazines and you only saw them if you happened to be in Mississippi where they lived or the rare places they travelled to and I think he really longed to be one of those guys. So when Fahey started being serious about making his records his idea was “I’m going to make this record, I’m going to call it Blind Joe Death” and this was a totally obscure idea, “I’m going to slip it into bins at record shops and at thrift stores and people will find it and ten or fifteen years from now they’ll say I wonder what happened to Blind Joe Death?” It’s an obscure task from the very beginning, it’s not like he’s shooting for fame and fortune and Top Of The Pops, it’s almost the opposite of that. He’s shooting for obscurity, for this blissful obscurity that he was relating to. Self-mythologizing but in a way that’s so deep down. It’s not self-mythologizing like whoever does that these days, like Nick Cave or whoever, like somebody who is doing it on a big scale where a lot of people are reading about it, this is like Fahey’s self-mythologizing himself out of existence almost, hoping that 20 years later 5 people will have this record in their collection, ‘cos that’s the kind of guy he was, a guy that would make a record only 5 other people would have. The original Blind Joe Death was released on only 100 copies and Fahey was developing this style that wasn’t beholden to the pop music of the day or anything like that. He was obviously listening to a lot of different stuff but he was formulating this thing that was really his own basically. It proved really influential to a certain class of people, certainly everybody that was involved in either folk music, or later on folk turning into pop music, or a lot of the people from Sonic Youth’s generation that kind of went back to it. Fahey was really an antecedent in a way because he was playing in open tunings and playing a lot of stuff that didn’t fit any easy categorisation. Then later on he was doing tape manipulated pieces and adding sounds he recorded from tapes into his acoustic finger-picking stuff and obviously much later he was playing this really weirdo electro distorted music and ploughing his own row in a sense. I came across him really early for a strange reason and it was for another record that I was going to put on the list, which was a record by Leo Kottke that Fahey put out. Leo Kottke is a much more popular person in the same vein as John Fahey and his early records were on Fahey’s label and he rose to quite a bit more popularity. He’s mostly an instrumental guitar player. He’s a lightning fast, super technical finger-picker with a lot of open tunings and his first record was called Six And Twelve String Guitar – it’s all instrumentals and it was one of the very first records on Fahey’s Takoma label. Somehow I came into that record very early, it’s got a weird black and white woodcut on the cover with an armadillo or something and it’s an amazing record. And after that record I started getting interested in this label Takoma and Fahey’s records were the next ones I found on it and then I realised that it was basically Fahey’s. Then later, especially when Jim O’Rourke was in Sonic Youth, because he was so tied in with Fahey, we got even more into Fahey at that point. Fahey was also making these primitive artworks. We used a piece of his on the front cover of Sonic Youth’s The Eternal and I collected a bunch of stuff. A couple of years before he died I managed to do a short tour with him, just a duo tour where we were both playing solo sets and we travelled around in a car for a week or so and he was making all these drawings on the road and I managed to get a couple off him. I’ve got a lot of his work at this point. He just was a very singular character and I think that’s what makes his music so beautiful that he just had his own agenda. He wasn’t kow-towing to the mores of the day or what people expected of their recording artist. He played the game for a little while and then said “oh fuck it”, got fat and weird and just kept doing his thing."