"There is something faintly off-putting about this book’s subtitle. We live in a world where the obsession with music’s past threatens to overwhelm its present, where the only music magazines that sell in any quantity deal in heritage rock, where virtually the only TV coverage of music comes via retrospective documentaries: the story of modern pop has been told and retold until it’s been reduced to a series of tired anecdotes and over-familiar landmarks. But Yeah Yeah Yeah’s brilliance lies in the personal, idiosyncratic route Bob Stanley takes through the past: for him, the modern pop era begins not with Elvis or “Rock Around the Clock”, but the release of Johnnie Ray’s 1954 album Live at the London Palladium, the first time a screaming teenage audience had been heard on record in the UK. He devotes more space to 1970 one-hit wonders Edison Lighthouse than to Led Zeppelin, delivers a withering verdict on some surprising sacred cows – Joni Mitchell, Patti Smith, Steely Dan – and is great at unearthing a forgotten quote that challenges what you might call the authorised version of events: at the height of the 1967’s Summer of Love, he finds the Who’s Pete Townshend not boggling at the new frontiers mapped out by psychedelia, but grumpily complaining that “people aren’t jiving in the listening boxes in record shops any more like we did to a Cliff Richard ‘newie’”. Stanley has a way of tackling well-worn topics – not least the Beatles – from unlikely angles, and of talking about artists you’ve never heard of with a contagious enthusiasm that makes hearing them seem like a matter of urgency. Best of all, he makes you laugh out loud while getting directly to the heart of the matter. The lugubrious late 70s output of Pink Floyd sounds like music made by people “who hated being themselves”. The punk-era Elvis Costello sang “like he was standing in a fridge”, and the experience of listening to novelty ska revivalists Bad Manners is “like being on a waltzer when you’ve had three pints and desperately need the toilet”. If you’ve ever heard them, you’ll know exactly what he means."

"Kraftwerk were a major influence on me musically and stylistically. They were really the first truly electronic band I'd heard. Afterwards, of course, I listened to all the other German things like NEU! and Can. I'd listen to The Human League and whatever came out of England in that time period. But, Kraftwerk were right at the centre of it. The first album I heard in its entirety was Trans-Europe Express, which I almost picked for this because I do love that album. But, I think Kraftwerk’s absolute masterpiece is The Man-Machine - be it visually, song-wise, arrangements or sounds. It is as close to a perfect record as I feel has been made in that genre. There is nothing that touches it. When I used to DJ at the Rum Runner club - I was 16 or 17 and starting out - I used to play a lot of tracks from The Man-Machine because almost everything on that album you can play. Funnily enough, I'd never seen Kraftwerk until recently when they played the Tate Modern. I went to three shows - The Man-Machine, Trans-Europe Express and Computer World - because I felt as they had had such an impact on me I should go and see a whole load of the shows. They weren't a letdown, the 3D effect was extraordinary and it was such a joy to hear those songs loud through a system like that. You don't tend to get to hear synthesisers that loud unless you go to a club and listen to some horrible remix. Kraftwerk had great taste and a lot of music is about taste. They didn't make so many albums over a period of time but everything has been impeccable - every sound, every delay, every vocoder. They really paid attention to detail and that's something I have a complete obsession with. I can fiddle with something for ages and ages that I feel changes the whole track and nobody else will hear what I'm doing. Kraftwerk had a great ability for that. They made really impeccable records."