"I had a friend at school that was just as obsessive about music as I was. He was a huge New Order fan. He lent me a really badly taped cassette of Script Of The Bridge. At first I thought it was too dangerously close to prog rock. Around that time, I think I'd just gone to sixth form… What was great about that was meeting people of a like mind. But the place where I came from was a typical Northern small town. I think the idea was probably dawning that there was nothing there and I didn't really belong. I was stuck in my own world with no outlet for it. I spent a lot of time just wandering around and thinking about stuff, and that was the soundtrack to it really. Pissing it down in the North on dark evenings. It sounds like rain in the north-west to me now. I dunno what's good about that."

"If you're listening to prog like Gong then you're going to bump into Magma. They make their own language on their records, so we made our own words for Magma albums. A number of Magma albums would pop up in various friends' record collection, and each one was quite different. On Üdü Wüdü there's an 18-minute track called 'De Futura', which is like a suite and it moves to different tempos and it's got all these cross rhythms in it; it's an overwhelmingly transcendent record. There was a rock disco that we used to go to in Manchester in the 70s and you could take your own records and we used to take this record. You'd see these rock fans freaking out to it. It was a curious time in Manchester because you had the punk thing, but all these other oddball things like Magma and Earth, Wind And Fire were standing beside each other. It wasn't as tribal as it's been made it out to be. You'd go up to a free festival in Rochdale that was called the Deeply Vale festival and all these subcultures would be represented there, because all of the sub-cultures would be big enough to stand on their own two feet. But at this disco in Manchester, you'd hear Bowie and Roxy Music, and Magma, probably some Genesis and some Sex Pistols."

"One of the bands that I watched in a backyard party that made me decide I wanted to be a musician had played the song '2112'. I heard that weird pedal effect at the beginning and thought, ""Are you kidding me?!"" That was the opening of a whole new world. I lost track of them after Permanent Waves when I started doing my own thing, but you can't ignore their legacy. Alex Lifeson is another with a really bizarre approach to guitar playing. It sometimes seems that his solos don't have a direction because they are like spurts of energy, almost like solar bursts. It's all so progressive to the point that when they do a comparatively straightforward song, it almost seems like they are dumbing things down – something like 'Working Man' for example, which is a simple rock track. But generally they are progressive rock at its very best and bands like Dream Theater owe a lot to them. Although Megadeth has progressive elements, I'm not a huge fan of pure prog as such. I respect the players because they are so talented, but to me it might feel like you're in a straitjacket. Incidentally, people have referred to Rust In Peace as being a progressive record, but in truth it was just where we were at the time. In fact I always saw it as a thrashy little metal record, as opposed to sounding like early Genesis or King Crimson where you dropped acid and went, ""Whoa dude…"" Not that I've ever done that, I should add…"

"Magazine were also one of my favourite bands and that they came from the same city as me was a marvel. It didn't make any difference to what I thought of their music, but it was definitely a bonus. As a teenager I was very critical at the state of guitar playing and the usual cliché-ridden approach that was either blues rock or prog rock. It didn't mean anything to my generation. In John McGeoch, Magazine had a guitar player who was modern and relevant and interesting, while Howard Devoto was, and still is, one of my favourite ever lyricists. There is a thought that the first couple of records for many bands are the ones that are considered seminal. As is the case with Wire, I think that when bands break away from their first seminal albums - in Magazine's case that was Real Life and Secondhand Daylight - and they take somewhat of a left turn, it is really interesting. On The Correct Use Of Soap, Magazine did something original and almost ahead of themselves. There is a lot of space on The Correct Use Of Soap and I think it is better than the first two records. The space means that John McGeoch can really stretch out. Songs like 'Philadelphia' and 'Because You're Frightened' are based on guitar-playing that is utterly unique. It is one of those records that you can say that if it came out now, it would still not only be fresh but ahead of the race."

"I don’t mean this in a derogatory way, but Graham Oliver and Steve Dawson of Saxon were into the bluesy bands - simple but with a lot of groove. But me and Paul Quinn were into more muso bands like Genesis and King Crimson. That was the type of stuff we played, with more jamming and improvisation. As a bass player and singer, my goal was to play like Chris Squire. I used to try and learn the songs – it took me about six months to learn ‘Roundabout’. I‘ve talked to Rick Wakeman about Yes, and he said Jon Anderson would structure melodies like I do it. They would sit in a room and arrange things around the vocals, and we do that because it gives me more freedom to write. I could listen to this all day. NWOBHM bands liked Yes because the musicianship was great - it moves away from blues feel to a jazz feel. A lot of these guys were university trained, but we learned from listening to music. We knew nothing about music theory or scales, but prog rock really made you better as musicians when you learned to play it. It seemed unattainable because it was so good."

"I found out about the Cardiacs and discovered A Little Man And A House And The Whole World Window and On Land And In The Sea simultaneously. They’re very hard to find now, the CDs are going for upwards of 60 or 70 quid on eBay. It’s progressive music, but done in a really mental way. It sounds like one guy’s mind being acted out by some willing and accomplished musicians. It’s really insane. There are loads of tempo changes. I think Tim Smith’s voice sounds a little like Robert Smith, but in a much more manic way. I think that’s what really speaks to me [laughs]. It’s almost like what progressive rock is made for. You expect progressive rock to be manic. The production sounds a little bit more like a real band on On Land And In The Sea, but on A Little Man And A House And The Whole World Window there’s a song on it called ‘R.E.S.’ which is just seven minutes of strange music. It’s like 60s easy listening music but it’s still definitely prog. I was criticised once actually. We did a trip into the rain forest in Costa Rica last year and I DJed it, and afterwards everyone was like, “yeah that was great… maybe too much Cardiacs though.” It’s a floor filler, but a floor emptier as well – and it’s hard to know where the threshold is! On those albums there are a lot of people called Smith, and I’m not sure whether they’re brothers or cousins or aunties or whatever, but there’s a saxophonist, bassist, guitarist, keys, and it’s all very symphonic. More symphonic than you’d expect."

"They're a funny band, Man, because they were always on the fringes of being really successful but they didn't really hit the big time. But they did well in America, and for this, the line-up had changed a tiny bit and it causes a lot of conjecture among their fans, but it's just beautiful. Actually, I've got a sneaking feeling that My Morning Jacket must be fans of Man, because there's stuff on Welsh-Connection which sounds very much like MMJ on their album Circuital. The cover is a mock-up of the French Connection movie poster, so you can sense the mood of everything, but the actual song 'The Welsh Connection' is just amazing. There's a certain 70s, deep-brown and depressed mood to it, but it kind of flies as well. It's what you imagine the 70s to be like; you imagine them being devoid of fantasy, so you had to lift yourself above the strikes and the power cuts and the joblessness and the overcooked beige food. You imagine that there's no fantasy for you to actually plough, and you've gotta just rise above it and try and dream. That's why I love this record; it feels like you're floating above reality and the brownness of the 70s, and it's trying to get somewhere. I've always found Man intriguing, because they're a west Walian band but they were making music that was very much competing with some of the best American West Coast prog-rock bands or rock bands, and I always find that intriguing - when a band tapped into something that was not of their typography or geographical situation. It's just a beautiful record, and a lot of their fans don't actually think it's their best, but I think it's their best by a mile."

"It was difficult to choose a Sparks record. I think Sparks are unique. Even though they’ve progressed through the early seventies ‘Visconti sound’ – it’s not glam rock, it’s something else. It’s of its time because it influenced so much of what came after it. I don’t think it was really like anything before it, but then they progressed and switched to Giorgio Moroder and those early 80s records like Angst In My Pants, and then they went Eurodisco in the nineties too. One of my favourite Sparks songs is 'When Do I Get To Sing ""My Way""'. That captures again that melancholy, it’s such a wonderful, wonderful song but wry with a sense of humour too. Lyrically I think it’s an incredible record because it was at odds with what was going around at the time. You had John Lennon doing the confessional ballad songwriting about 'this is the emotion I feel' and it’s very bare. And then you have the preposterous fantasy of prog rock. Whereas to me they approached lyrics more from the perspective of writing a film script or someone writing a novel, or even more from the Cole Porter type of lyric writing. It was based around characters and there’s extremes of emotion, like the song 'Equator' which ends the record. It’s about arranging to meet someone on a particular place on the equator at a particular time and it sets up this romantic premise, and the character gets there but the other lover isn’t waiting for him. You have this heartbreak and even though Russell is singing it in the first person, it seems to be written from a third person perspective. You have these characters created by Ron for Russell to articulate, in the way a scriptwriter would write to bring a character to life. It’s one of those records I literally wore the groove out to. Ron’s arrangements too, how he got a rock band into play how an orchestra would, but not in a pretentious way at all. The melodies are really direct and cool. It’s a real joy to listen to."