"I’m going to go with Close Encounters of the Third Kind. It’s amazing. It’s just one of those films that, if it’s on — I have the DVD too — but if it’s on, I just can’t not watch it. A lot of times, that’s how I know that films are my favorite, if they’re on and I just can’t change the channel, and just have to watch it, even though I’ve seen it a million times, and it holds up and it’s still fresh, and it still feels good to me. That’s one of those films. I love everything about it. Again, it’s just one of those movies that makes you think, and it’s inspiring, and it just feels good, and it feels magical. I love Richard Dreyfuss as well, and Jaws is also one of my favorite films. But just the performance, and the whole tones at the end with the aliens, as they’re coming out, it’s just a feelgood film.#"

"My favourite song is 'Farewell, Farewell' which is this beautiful arrangement, awesome songwriting and then Sandy Denny's voice is just so haunting. But that album is masterfully arranged, masterfully recorded and I love the drum sounds. We were always trying to get the drum sounds to be more Fairport - it's so economical but really funky at the same time and they just have a lot of crazy meters that you don't even notice are shifting from 7/8 to 4/4 because it's carried by these strong folk song lyrics and melodies. But that was a big touchstone for us, especially some of the fiddle style parts. I think Richard Thompson is one of the coolest guitarists out there and there's a Richard & Linda Thompson album, I Want To See The Bright Lights Tonight, the title song of which is featured on this HBO show [Enlightened]. I thought. ""Is this a Liz Phair song from 1993, what is this?"" and then you discover it and think this song's fucking awesome. Her voice is definitely not as good as Sandy Denny's but it's probably more suited for that kind of 70s pop rock. But there's also this really great song on that album called 'The Calvary Cross', which could be a Lungfish song. He's just a dude who was way ahead of his time and more interesting than someone like Jimmy Page, who's been played to death and is such a rip-off artist!"

"I got this when we were already started, it was when I raided the album closet of Elektra. It's one of the albums where it was, "Yeah, I gotta have this one". Tom Verlaine and Richard Lloyd traded off rhythm and lead, it'd be like their version of 'Dueling Banjos'! They took turns and there's all these different elements to it. That probably seeped in to [his and Black Francis' playing] on 'Monkey Gone To Heaven' through osmosis. We didn't mean it and it was just lucky. We just figure stuff out. Charles [Michael Kittridge Thompson IV, aka Black Francis] just leaves me alone when I'm doing my guitars. He would say "'Pixify' it", it's when the Pixies really become the Pixies. I'm just quoting him! It's kind of true in a little way. Of course it would be, that's the job, that's a lead guitarist's job, and Charles' job is to make Pixies songs and all that stuff. The guitar happens to be front and centre of the mix. They would even say it, "Now it's Joey's turn", and Charles would say: "Ah, now it's the Pixies.""

"Guralnick’s two-volume biography of Elvis is one of the best written accounts of a musician’s life. It carefully takes the myth of Elvis and puts it into human terms, giving you a sense of the shock of the new. From childhood in Tupelo, Mississippi through his years in Memphis, Hollywood and Las Vegas, the book puts you in the room with Elvis and his family, friends and collaborators. In the early years you are struck by the genuine innocence and good-naturedness he personified – an accessible small-town boy. Fans would line up outside his mother’s kitchen and he would come out to spend time with them after finishing the family dinner. You can see a kid trying to navigate an unformed world, a world we now know as the modern music business. He was self-aware, though, and brought a new vulnerability and disregard to performing. The first book ends with his mother’s death and his induction into the army, in many ways the beginning of his descent into drugs and isolation. In Hollywood he becomes commodified and put under a kind of artistic house arrest. It is frustrating to read how often his intentions and creative ideas were thwarted. His music had become carefully controlled and the way he had made his great early music was undermined. Later, in the 70s, you get accounts of him gatecrashing the White House and demanding to be made an FBI agent on the spot (Richard Nixon’s henchmen agreed) or starting his Tennessee Karate Institute with outlandish personalised karate uniforms. Though it is impossible for a book to sum up a life, especially one on the scale of Elvis’s, Guralnick’s accounts are ultimately about the impossibility of coming through your wildest dreams unscathed. But it’s more than a cautionary tale: it’s a document of the ways Elvis embodied the childlike and the primal and turned it into a kind of freedom."