"That would have come out in 1998 when I was around 17. My record collection at that point was mainly made up of U2, Radiohead, The Beatles, The Smiths. I hadn’t really been an indie kid in that sense of going to see bands and being part of that kind of world, because where we all grew up as a band, there just wasn’t a music scene at all! So we just spent our time making music, we never went to see much. Gomez is one of those total, bonafide, university, indie bands. It’s such an inventive record for a brand new band to burst onto the scene with. I loved the fact there were two singers with such contrasting voices. They’re all great songs, 'Here Comes The Breeze', 'Tijuana Lady'… it chimed in with where I was at the time, just getting out of school, smoking dope for the first time and experimenting with drugs. The album has that sense of youthful abandon. You can tell they were just fearless; maybe that’s what stopped them in the end from going on. I always feel that Gomez should have been a much more important band. I remember being up at University in Edinburgh, I got the National Express down to London one night, it was so uncomfortable, I got off at every stop and was getting smashed on this very strong weed and then going back on, and I had a proper old school Discman, and I was just listening to this Gomez record, up all night. I got to London, full of beans and was like, “We’ve gotta be this inventive!”"

"I love the orchestration, I love the sentiment, [Thom Yorke] is going through a peaceful patch on that record. He sounds like for the first time he is crooning to you a little bit, like he is a little more comfortable. He is still dealing with huge social issues in his lyrics and very deeply personal experiences as well. On 'Morning Bell' he sings: ""Where'd you park the car?"" That's the conversation your parents have when they are newly split up. They still have to share a vehicle, that is a conversation that they have to have. If you're a child of the '80s, nowadays everybody's got their own car, but that was the only communication my parents had after about six months. And when I heard it singing out in the middle of his lyrics, I just knew for sure that's what he was talking about. So, beautiful, overarching. Sometimes Thom's lyrics are like being berated. It's like being shouted at, and then at other times, he seems to pull a rainbow out of the sludge out of nowhere. That record, it could have been any of them, but that's the one I consider mine, in the same way I feel a sense of ownership of those Talk Talk records. That's the Radiohead album that's given me the most joy. It can take you back to a sad time in your life, and I think that's what good music does as well. You know it brings you forward to the present, but also reminds you of your emotional connection to something in the past. And I think if an album can do that, it's worked, basically."

"Well everything’s been said about it, hasn’t it? Again, it was around the same time as Bring It On. I went out to South Africa for a gap year to work on a school. It was just as I was starting to smoke weed, it was exciting, and there were no responsibilities in life. I remember we didn’t have a music system out there, we had no money and a mate of mine went and bought a cassette player, it was a single deck cassette player, with terrible tinny speakers, but I had copied a tape of OK Computer before leaving! I don’t think I played any other album for about a year, it was on permanent rotation. What I found so compelling about it was that you can’t hear a single thing this guy’s singing! He has this real slurred delivery with every song and it was just an assault on the brain in terms of the production and the instrumentation and it was all coming through this terrible little tape player in South Africa! I thought I’d figured out what I thought the lyrics were and, largely, a lot of them were wrong, but I didn’t have the inlay card so I didn’t know! I just remember this haze of completely falling in love with the sound of this record and what I thought were the words. They really summed up the way a lot of people felt at the time, the alienation and the fear of a quickly changing world, all the pre-millennium stuff. It summed up the world that I occupied. It’s why it’s still the greatest album that I think has been put out in my lifetime; they're a band who, at that point, reached their songwriting peak, and [Thom Yorke]’s never got there since as far as I’m concerned. They were still young enough to have that punky quality but old enough to have those ballads that leave you feeling quite cold like 'Lucky' and 'No Surprises'. At that time, we were all just desperate to be Radiohead, everyone had the same set-ups and the same guitars! I can’t listen to it anymore though - as a band, if you’re influenced too much by one thing, as we were, it can kind of stifle you."