"I love 400 Blows. [François] Truffaut is just a genius and, again, just there’s a total Cassavetian quality in his performances as well. I know that story was close to his own story, so that was very moving and just a totally immersive experience. I like him and a lot of the French filmmakers, obviously, for the exact reason we’re talking about. That last scene in 400 Blows where he escapes the children’s home in that really, really long tracking shot was just astonishing, just such an astonishing end to that film. That and when the kids steal a typewriter too, and they’re struggling with the weight of it; that was great. It’s just great, great fun."

"Alan Lomax was a folklorist and ethnomusicologist who was making archival recordings and field recordings in the 40s, and this album consists mainly of prison chain gang songs. The first time I heard it, it stopped me in my tracks - it was incredibly moving to hear because it's just the sound of male voices and pickaxes and nothing else... it sounds haunted but hopeful. Like listening to ghosts, the quality of the singing and the recording [is such] that you can never have again - a document of its time. It's spiritual: the pain is in their singing, which would have been their only mode of expression. It's singular and not something I'd put on everyday, being a heavy listen."

"Schindler’s List. I remember, again, I was under age. It was all experiences I wasn’t really allowed to be having, you know. So, I went to watch Schindler’s List. My dad was like, “OK, we’re taking you to the movies. You have to watch this movie. It’s an important film to see.” The cinema was packed out, and I was probably about 12 or 13, and it was just incredibly moving and overwhelming for a 13-year-old to watch, and the visuals of the girl in red in this black-and-white world, things like that. It’s just really ingrained in me. I remember the experience of going to watch that with everyone, and being moved."

"I don't really know what to say about this record. It's just one of those very emotive pieces of music that you need to be in a certain frame of mind to listen to and enjoy – those quiet, reflective moments. There are certain albums you can't put on in the car, and this would be one of them. It just wouldn't work. You can hardly hear the first three minutes of this, even if you turn your speakers up to 11, but it gradually builds up. It's refreshing, sometimes, to listen to music that has a completely different pace and is from a different world. If you're in the right frame of mind, it can be something deeply moving."

"That title track, it really affected me emotionally. I can't really explain why, but it really got under my skin. We were going to a lot of parties and stuff, and that was always the track that was played, and everybody would get up and start dancing to it. I love most of the Bowie stuff, but '"Heroes"' and that whole era, I found it really moving. "Heroes" was a rebellion inspiration, an "I told you so"-type thing. It seemed to be very anti-establishment, and something your parents wouldn't approve of, so we loved it. I've never seen Bowie, though we did play a tour supporting him in South America."

"Well I always have a hard time with this. As we get older or grow or whatever, it’s always changing, because you just see more movies, for one thing, so you change. One of my most favorite movies, I think a perennial favorite movie of mine is La Ronde. I don’t know how well acquainted you are with it. It’s one of my favorite movies. Anton Walbrook is one of the stars, who also the stars of another one of my favorite movies, The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp. He’s the guy who’s that German who has the seven-minute monologue with the moving camera that never cuts, and he breaks down during it."

"This is a companion portrait of the existential man of The Fire Within, but it is the obverse—men facing their end not by the personal choice of suicide but by literally being blown to bits. Beginning in a slow, sleepy town (an extended sequence that was once severely trimmed), it tracks men who are moving toward death on a literal and metaphorical road but whose ability to face the void ahead of them is Camus-like in its indomitability. Screwed down as tightly as a pipe bomb, this Clouzot film threatens to blow up in front of you at every turn. You want to scream as you reach to grab the truck’s steering wheel."