"One of the first records I remember having any kind of relationship to was the soundtrack to 2001. At that point, I wasn’t allowed to put the needle on the record, but my dad would put it on, and, looking back now, I liked it ’cause it it scared me. There’s a lot of spooky stuff on there. I wanted to hear the record that was going to freak me out, and I wanted my dad in the room while it was being played. Growing up in Temple, Texas, my dad was the looser parent, the kind of guy who would wake the kids up in the morning by turning the stereo on really loud and blasting some upbeat music. In fact, the neighbor was always calling over to tell him to turn his stereo down. Later, he became a little more strict and got more religious; now he goes to mass every day. My parents split up in ’79, when I was 8. It was a pretty acrimonious break up. By then, I had a younger brother and sister, and we would go see my dad every other weekend. There was a certain voice my mom reserved only for my dad—when she would pick up the phone and use this voice, I knew it was him: “Oh hello.” There was a lot of animosity there for a long time, but as of the last couple of years, we have all shared Thanksgiving together for the first time since 1978, which has been really nice. My little brother now has a kid, so that brings everybody together."

"I know three right off the bat. Planes, Trains, and Automobiles. How’d it influence me? Big Steve Martin fan. Knew I wanted to be a comedian when I was very young. And my sister brought the Wild and Crazy Guy album home, which I still have in my office. When Planes, Trains came out, that was the first film that really I looked at and said, “I’d love to, someday if I’m lucky enough to have a comedy audience, bring them into film and make that kind of movie.” Big heart, big laughs. And, of course, Steve Martin at the car rental shop, you know, “I want my f–king car right f–king now.” Unbelievably funny movie. Of course, John Hughes, John Candy, one of my favorites ever. Can I take two minutes to tell a story? Awesome f–king John Hughes story. [My Best Friend’s Girl director] Howie [Deutch] was directing Some Kind of Wonderful and the studio wanted a four-page rewrite on a scene. So Howie’s all, “I can’t figure out what to do.” Calls John, says, “Can you come over and help me write these four pages?” For two-and-a-half hours they’re just pacing around, John is just smoking incessantly. Howie says, “I need to lay down. I’m beat. I’m going to sleep a few hours and then we’ll finish it.” Then he says, “Dane, I wake up at about five in the morning and John is scribbling like crazy. He hands it to me and says, ‘Read this. It’s only 50 pages right now, but read it. I’m calling it Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.’"

"That song came out in 1967, but I don’t care when you it it, it still doesn’t sound dated. It’s always current. You just can’t beat it. All singers aspired to be Sam. He was a beautiful man. Very charming, engaging – a great artist with a whole lotta personality. It was thrilling for me – and every other woman – to be in the room with him. When I first heard ‘You Send Me,’ I was driving down South, traveling with my dad, doing services in various city auditoriums and arenas [Franklin would have been about 15]. My sister Erma and I were in the car, and when that came on the radio, we had to stop. It was pandemonium. We got out of the car, and we were just running around the car, screaming, ‘Sam was on! Sam was on! Sam is on the radio! Listen to this song!’ And we were just having one fit on the highway. We were just thrilled, because he had just left the gospel field. That was the first time hearing what he did after he leaving it. So it was super exciting for us. Sam was what you call a singer’s singer. My dad used to tell me not to copy him, that I had a voice. He stopped that early on, and he was absolutely right. As a performer, he was very simplistic. He didn’t do a lot of running around on the stage, and because he knew he didn’t have to. He had a voice, and he didn’t have to do anything but stand in one place and wipe you out."

"I heard this record in Minus Zero record shop in Portobello Road - it was an old shop that had been there since the early 70s or early 80s, and it stocked a lot of Bob Dylan, Beatles and The Beach Boys. Kind of power-pop albums. I used to go in there to buy Big Star and Big Star-related records, and it was the best place in the UK where I could do that. I'd gotten all the Big Star that I really needed in my life, but I wanted more Alex Chilton records. I asked the store to play me Like Flies On Sherbert. They put it on after saying it was rubbish, and the first thing I heard was the sound of tape stopping and re-starting; the record is full of lots of those sounds. It's a pretty lo-fi, raggedy-sounding record in terms of the production and the performances. It just sounded really unlike anything else I've ever heard before. Really loose and groovy. It's full of life - like a punk record with soul. You can tell that they were probably very high and drunk while they were making it - mistakes and everything are included in it. That's why I made a second About Group record called Start And Complete with Charles Hayward, Pat Thomas and John Coxon, in one day without anyone knowing the songs before we played them. I wanted to capture spontaneity. The record I made with About Group is much softer than this, as my style is very different, but this album is definitely an inspiration on me."

"What a surprise! Actually a movie about people! No special effects, no super heroes, no gunfights; just a riveting two hours and 15 minutes about some human beings you can recognize as real, going through the agonizing upheavals of a marriage that is no longer working, and therefore facing the daunting, heartbreaking throes of divorce. That’s Noah Baumbach’s new picture, “Marriage Story,” and it is right up there with the best of this exceptional director-writer’s finest work, thus only confirming my long-held opinion that Baumbach is vividly among the top picture-makers of his generation. It is a joy to see and hear actors speaking dialogue that is superbly crafted and profoundly believable. And to watch a film during which the camera is always in the right place for the actors to shine and the scenes to play most effectively for the audience. All this talented and insightful direction, of course, results in brilliant performances. If there is a more nakedly affecting and moving turn by an actor than Adam Driver’s here, I certainly haven’t seen it. He’s always good, but this is truly striking, vividly touching, and simply as good as it gets in modern pictures. I always enjoy Scarlett Johansson’s work, and she certainly doesn’t disappoint here. And Alan Alda’s aging character is memorably drawn. Like so much of the best American movies, Baumbach’s work here is both deeply personal (though not autobiographical) and at the same time quite clearly universal. I really hope that this picture is successful enough to encourage other filmmakers to bring real people to the screen, and to tell stories that resonate with reality."