"This is a bit of a change in mood from the last song! For a long time Rod was a hero and an icon to me. “Da Ya Think I’m Sexy” is just such a confident song and I remember listening to it a lot as I was starting to perform. I think all artists have a different persona they go into, or a switch they hit when they walk on stage, I would listen to this as a warmup song to get to that place before I performed. “I was lucky enough to re-record the song with Rod Stewart about a year ago - one of those moments when it really came full circle for me. My A&R told me they were planning to do a Rod Stewart tribute album with a bunch of different artists. She first presented a different song and I said “that would be amazing! But I’m definitely doing “Da Ya Think I’m Sexy”, right?” I think I even kicked out somebody else who was in line to do it! We recorded it, produced it and then performed it together at the VMAs. “Now we have this cool relationship where I see him when I’m in Vegas and I’m going to try to see one of his shows. Rod Stewart is my rock ‘n’ roll dad! It’s one of those rare experiences when you can say ‘it’s nice to meet your heroes.’"

"He was already with Rod Stewart. I'd started following him because he'd been in The Yardbirds. But he was always the most animated guitar player. His mistakes were tasty. I loved English music - I came here in 1968 and I saw Bakerloo Blues Line, I saw Love Sculpture, I saw Jethro Tull, I saw Spooky Tooth. And The Jeff Beck Group was the template for Led Zeppelin."

"This is a record I had when I was a younger man and I stumbled back onto it. I love every song on it. I love his melodies. I love his surrealist point of view. He was really in love with language and melody. [sings] “My wife and my dead wife, did anyone ever see her?” He knows he’s getting your attention. He’s very entertaining. [sings] “I’m the man with the lightbulb head!” He’s got me man! He had me with the song titles alone. It has this one 80s poppy number. ['Heaven'] (sings) “She’s got heaven, heaven in her eyes.” He doesn’t sound groundbreaking lyrically up to that point. He gets to the resolve: “She’s got arms, she’s got legs, she’s got heaven.” It’s like the object of affection in the song is being dismembered. He’s not expressing his own sexual drive. He’s not saying it how Rod Stewart would say it. [At this point he unleashes a Rod Stewart howl.] Hitchcock’s poetry bubbles out of him like Lewis Carrol. It doesn’t have to make sense."

"This was the point where I did start to accept there were other kinds of music than the stuff I’d grown up with. Because I’d listened to so much hip hop and soul, I was very dismissive, even of Bowie. I never began to negotiate with that until I was much older. A real Velvet underground obsessive is less favourable to this album because it’s less pure in their eyes than the cold, earlier stuff, but it’s the first one that got me and drew me into that kind of music. It’s soulful as well. Lou Reed is brilliant. He’s a cunt, but he’s brilliant. I met him once, I did a TV show with him, Metallica and Lana Del Rey in France. It was the most awful panel of people I’d ever had to sit with. The only person that was nice was Lars from Metallica. They lined us all up and we had to stand and look as if we were all bonding. Lou Reed was like a melted mannequin, he had about four breaths left in him, while Lana Del Rey looked like someone had kidnapped everyone she knew. Lars had been to so many AA meetings he was all ‘Oh hey! So nice to meet you!’ Weirdly enough Lou and dad had a bit of a history, because dad’s only tour of America was with Lou Reed and they really hated each other. Lou hated everybody arbitrarily, and dad just hated America. I think that tour ended because dad knew Rod Stewart and Ronnie Wood and they met them in LA. He complained about Lou Reed, so Rod Stewart and Ronnie Wood went and de-tuned all of Lou Reed’s guitars."

"There is certainly a rasp to my voice [LAUGHS]. It's not quite as bad as Bonnie Tyler's but it is raspy. Rod Stewart wasn't a big influence on me as a singer though. I don't really sound like anybody. In the same way that Ozzy doesn't sound like anybody or Alice Cooper doesn't sound like anybody. You get these boyband singers now that are all very similar. Even in the old days, you could swap round some of the Motown singers and you wouldn't really know the difference. Singer wise, I loved Mark Bolan; Noddy Holder; David Bowie; Alex Harvey; Russell Mael; Steve Harley; Brian Ferry; Sammy Hagar; Phil Lynott. All that lot go into a bucket but I still don't sound like any of them [LAUGHS]. Mutt Lange was a huge influence on my singing: he can play anything, do anything. He was pushing and pushing. I remember the first time I ever met Lou Gram from Foreigner. He said: 'tell me, did Mutt make you feel like you couldn't sing either?' and this was fucking Lou Gram, right? He'd make you do it again and again. He would push and push until you'd be right on the edge of losing it. Sometimes that worked and sometimes you felt like your spirit was being destroyed. Physically, you're going into spaces in your head and your chest cavity that you've never been. But he would've done it with anybody: look what he did with Brian Johnson, he put him through the bloody ringer with Back In Black but look what he got out of it. And that's why I don't complain. Rod Stewart was the first album I ever bought with my pocket money. The version of 'I'm Losing You' is just genius but my 'in' to that record, as it were, was 'Maggie May' because it was all over the radio at the time. It was rock but it was pop rock: it's not been influential in terms of how we sound but I absolutely love it."

"The mythology is that Jimmy Page played on that, but it's clearly Jeff Beck all the way - that personality. The interesting way they recorded the tracks is that the entire band were in the studio at the same time. And Ronnie Wood on bass. I think Ronnie Wood is actually a better bass player than he is a guitar player. The bass playing on that record is just great! You can hear mistakes, but listen to what the bass does in 'Rock My Plimsoul', it goes completely against the drums, but it gives it like a slinky snake-like feel. From beginning to end you have this kind of jamming, drunken-keyboard-player-in-a-New-Orleans-whorehouse-upright-piano feel. It's the best vocal that Rod Stewart has ever done on that first record, I don't think he's ever equalled it. He ran out of songs to do, so he covered 'Greensleeves' instrumental, he just didn't have any more songs! 'Shapes Of Things' was a cover that he originally did with The Yardbirds and then did a version here, and tore. It. Up. Such a heavy, heavy band. I remember seeing them live in New York City. The rest of the kids didn't understand, but I was just blown away. I remember it well, the opening band was the Crazy [World of] Arthur Brown. He came out in a mask with his head lit on fire. That was actually connected later to by fire-spitting in the band. I just thought, 'Well that's a good idea'. The thing you noticed that while everyone was drinking, flirting, talking or whatever, when Arthur Brown walked onstage with his head on fire, everyone stopped!"

"Foreigner was a band that had an anthemic sophistication about their musical approach. It was educated, well-formed, well turned-out British-American music. The primary songwriter and leader of the band [Mick Jones] was a Brit, and the vocal talents of probably rock’s finest ever tenor, Lou Gramm, fitted perfectly with their sound. I got to know Lou many years later after his horrendous illness. When he was making his comeback to singing after brain surgery, me and some other guys played with him on a big German TV show, and we had to change the key of the song we were doing. We dropped it before he came over to Germany and then when he got there we dropped it another couple of steps. I said to him that the Lou Gramm of 20 or 30 years prior, when he was singing at the top of his range, was a pretty hard act to follow. He said that he didn’t write the songs, and just had to sing what was written, and that he could do that in the studio but it was very tough to do night after night on stage. In a sense I have been there myself. I made records in 1982 [The Broadsword And The Beast] and 1984 [Under Wraps] where I sang really well on record, absolutely at the top of my range. I’m a baritone, and my range is usually up to an E or an occasional hasty F, and then I was singing F# and G. I was singing at the top of my range and singing consistently up there, not just the occasional high note. It was something I couldn’t keep up night after night and I lost my voice in 1984 and had to pretty much take a year off to recover. I cancelled three shows in Australia and two shows in the USA. Over the period of a month I cancelled more than 50 per cent of all the shows that I’ve cancelled in my entire 44 years in music. I still have a soft spot for Lou because of his incredible vocal ability and the wonderful controlled quality of his voice. I do believe he is rock’s finest tenor. His diction was good, his articulation and rhythm was great, he was a truly great singer. It doesn’t mean he’s rock’s best singer or best-known singer, because the usually out of tune Rod Stewart and gymnastic Robert Plant were probably more charismatic. Lou was more mainstream, but it was nevertheless a joy to listen to someone, rather like Alfie Boe, who is in complete control of their vocal ability as the result of hard work and a huge amount of natural talent. He may not be the most exciting pop singer, but for me he is the best."

"I saw the New York Dolls support Rod Stewart when he was in The Faces. That was at Wembley Empire Pool. It was the Dolls, the Pink Fairies and the Faces. I was there to see the Faces, and when the Dolls came on you've never seen a room empty so fast. Everybody just headed for the bar. David Johansen had a top hat on and Arthur Kane had some pink patent thigh-length boots and was being propped up at the back. They did a 15-minute version of 'Frankenstein', and that was good enough for me. I hadn't seen anything like it before. I gather Steve Jones was there as well – a few people were there who would go on to form groups. They were these five tough New York kids and dressed like that, it was so provocative, so over the top. They went on The Old Grey Whistle Test and Whisperin' Bob Harris said, ""I want nothing to do with this lot behind me."" I lived in Chelsea in this flat with an American writer and I woke up in the middle of the night once and went in his room and Johnny Thunders was there. He asked me if I had a guitar and showed me a few chords. He was quite a nice bloke. That was when I was first starting out, in '77. He'd been over with the Heartbreakers doing the Anarchy tour with the Pistols. But to wake up and see him sitting there was bizarre. He'd had his hair cut by then. He always looked really smart. I loved the whole look of the New York Dolls. They had a real influence on me. They looked good wearing make-up, but there was no doubt that they were blokes. It was like, ""Come on then, come and do something about it!"" To walk around like that in the 1970s anywhere in America you were risking your life. Tracks like 'Personality Crisis' – I think Malcolm [McLaren] lifted that wholesale for the Pistols, the rhythm section and the guitar sound, the heaviness, the weight of the rock & roll sound they made. That was a big influence on Malcolm. What you saw was what you got with the Dolls. I last saw Johnny Thunders at Dingwalls in Camden. I bought him a brandy. He was sitting there scowling. He was quite a dangerous person. When I was with him once, some girl came up to bug him or say something and he did that thing like in that James Cagney film – he just put his hand on her and pushed her away. He was a real tough nut. A real rotter."