"She takes that song 'Ain't Got No, I Got Life' and makes it so much more than a silly musical song [from Hair], she gives it emotional depth. That's the great thing about Nina Simone - she did so many Bee Gees songs - and the Bee Gees are this agreed-upon joke. I think the Bee Gees are amazing geniuses - they are just so prolific and the fact that they were able to make all these changes and keep going. They did this Beatles-esque psychedelic thing which I think is awesome and went onto becoming the kings of disco, and wrote that Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton song, 'Islands In The Stream'. Nina Simone hears a Bee Gees song or someone suggests it to her and she goes, ""That's such a sweet song - those guys have no soul at all, but I'm gonna make this song sound awesome."" What I love about that album is that it's mostly all recorded live - there's real space to it because of that. That's something we tried to do for the musical - record it live, we wanted to record it in the same room, but because there were so many elements we had to put in it was impossible. The album was recorded four days after Martin Luther King's death. I don't know how big Nina Simone really was in her lifetime, but it feels like we are lacking in politicised chanteuses right now. I think now [there's] this real era of Christian rock - people just want to be uplifted. It's kind of that dynamic thing that the critic criticises Cat Stevens for; you can probably criticise Coldplay or Mumford & Sons for the same kind of thing. Like, ""Oh you're just toying with me, you're starting all small and then making it huge, of course I have a religious feeling right now!""

"For me this album was a pivotal moment in my life when I was 17 years-old. I bought it the opening day it came out – at midnight at Tower Records. I went home, played it and it blew my mind with its baroque production and how ambitious it was lyrically. I felt 'Oh my god, someone who is alive right now is making album the way people like David Bowie, Bob Dylan and The Beatles did.' It really felt like a fully realised act of genius. The lyrics were so mysterious to me and beautifully written. I still think about the songs all the time, and their cool landscape lyrics about decay and death. It's Leonard Cohen-ish. I was astounded by the whole vision and wondered how anyone who is alive right now make something so good. Growing up with other hero bands of mine like Nirvana, I always thought these refined masterpiece records were a thing of the past and that my generation were slackers who wouldn't aspire to make stuff on that level, but when Beck made Mutations he was a master artist showing you an actual jewel he'd made. It was so inspiring. More importantly, for me the day I heard Mutations is the day I decided to get a notebook and carried it around in my pocket everywhere I went, just to write down everything I was thinking. It turned me into a walking scribe of my interior landscape. I just try to excavate all my ideas onto notebook pages and I've been chronic notebooker ever since. I've never not had an endless scroll of notebooks. The reason I bought my first notebook was because of this record's quality, it set me on a creative path."

"The next one is a little-known obscure album called Hunky Dory! I grew up listening to David Bowie's songs in the background. I knew he existed and knew his hits and whatnot. I had the same thing with The Beatles. When I was 17 I saw that my dad had Hunky Dory and I realised that I had never really actually listened properly to David Bowie. I thought of him as a pop star – which he is – but he's obviously a lot more than that. I remember putting it on and listening to it in the lounge and actually thinking it was almost too much – it was a collection of songs that were all so good that it was too much to digest. It absolutely blew my mind at how mercurial he was on one record. He wasn't writing songs just about love, but about all these crazy, bizarre ideas. It contained really weirdly strange anthems that weren't like anything I'd heard. I remember really trying to piece together who David Bowie was in his entirety, as opposed to him just being that guy who dresses up like a woman sometimes and was a pop star, and beginning to understand the gravity of how talented he was. I remember listening to the song 'Andy Warhol' over and over and over again and thinking it was the best song I had ever heard in my life and then trying to learn it on guitar. So, it was the moment of realising, ""Oh my god, David Bowie!"" but there is no real point in me explaining why it is such a good album. It's obvious."

"I listen to this record all the way through - even 'Moby Dick'. To me it encapsulates the Led Zeppelin sound, because the engineering on it is so magnificent. The fact that a four-piece band can sound so vast. Obviously there are great tracks on III and IV. But I feel that II is the most complete album. It's amazing to find out they recorded it mostly on tour. Extraordinary. It sounds like it was recorded in one room. I think it's accounted for by the fact they just sound like that. They just sound that magnificent. I was not a huge fan of the first album. I remember reading the story about how, I think it was Glyn Johns again, the story about him playing it to George Harrison, and George Harrison didn't really get it. I wonder if he had played him Zeppelin II he'd have got it. I is not my favourite. On II it felt fully realised. They'd pulled away from that influence of blues; it was still there, but they'd merged it into their own thing. Which again I think is something that people don't associate with Simply Red – we've been enormously influenced by African American music, but we've been influenced by it from a different era. The marriage between black and white started with Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra and George Gershwin and all these people that ran through music, right through to Elvis, to Jagger, to Robert Plant – we've all in our own ways been enormously influenced by African American music. But the real thing to celebrate is that we made something different out of it. We didn't just copy it. The British especially turned it into something else. It became what we now know as rock music. The Beatles and the Stones are the people who can justifiably claim to have invented what we know as rock music. Not rock & roll, not R&B, not blues, but rock. And that is something to celebrate."

"I was never that big a U2 fan actually! The others, especially Dominic [Scott] who left before we got a record deal, were massive fans. He was a great guitarist - I think Keane would be a really different animal had Dominic stayed with us, he’s a brilliant guitarist. He basically just played a bit like The Edge meets Jonny Greenwood. And the others would harp on about U2, I was a bit younger and I was still into the Beatles and Queen, but Achtung Baby, of all of their records, is my favourite. It’s quite exposed, I suppose. I think that The Edge was getting divorced when they wrote that record and a lot of the songs were trying to make sense of that mess. But my favourite U2 song is 'Who’s Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses' and it’s really weird because that has the best middle eight that has ever been written - it might even be like 32 bars long! It’s a total heart-stopping moment, it’s vintage U2, it drops down with Bono doing his posturing, rock star thing, and then it builds and builds and launches into that great chorus. It’s classic U2, all quite pretentious. One of my problems with U2 is that it can sometimes smack of bad school poetry from time to time! I remember someone saying to me, “Oh that line about playing Jesus to the lepers in your head was the greatest line every written in a pop song!”. That’s the fucking lamest line I’ve ever heard! We met Steve Lillywhite when we signed our record deal, he produced that song, and we were saying, "Tell us about 'Who’s Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses'", and he was like, “Oh, I’ve got nothing but bad memories about that song! We couldn’t ever get it to work!”"

"We're keen on the White Album because of the way we're making a lot of this music now. I feel like they had a lot of music, and they weren't that worried about the very nuanced production they had delved into with George Martin. It's one of those records that's kind of sloppy, recorded in strange rooms. It has this weirder, drug-damaged vibe about it. For me, I think that The Beatles could not be any greater of a group without a song like 'Revolution 9'. I wouldn't have embraced them as much. Even though I was very young I always thought 'Revolution 9' was just as valid, just as listenable, just as perfect as 'Strawberry Fields Forever', something that has a lot of structure, melody, lyrics. I didn't realise until later how retarded that was. When we started writing songs and learning how to produce records we started to see what a strange, disturbing collage it is. Luckily, that was what I built my world of creating music on: thinking anything that you wanted to do was possible. They'll have these experimental moments, and even Paul McCartney, who's perhaps not as artistically experimental, there's that thing, [sings] "Can you take me back where I came from" [the fragment that follows 'Cry Baby Cry']. [It's] Thirty seconds of him not really having a song. Listening to that when I was young, somehow, is the cornerstone to me remembering that anything's possible - that you don't have to worry about thinking everything through before you do it."

"For me, this is the best guitar fuzz sound on record; it’s absolutely brilliant. I’ve been trying to get that sound and I’ve never got close, I’ve no idea what it is, apparently The Music Machine made their own pedals. They’re well-known to people who are into garage, psych-y stuff and I discovered them via Nuggets or Rubble compilation, or something like that. It’s strange, I love that song - I’m not hugely keen on the vocal but it doesn’t really matter to me on this song, it suits its purpose. It’s like the opposite of The Zombies’ Colin Blunstone’s voice. It’s not sweet and melodic, it’s gritty and punky and not my usual sort of thing but it screams attitude to me. It’s the sleaziest thing I’ve ever heard and it’s very, very inspiring for production. It’s the whole groove of it, the whole thing, but it all comes back to that guitar fuzz sound. With bands like The Beatles there’s so many books that go into the recording techniques, but not so with The Music Machine. Personally, I’ve learnt that the problem with fuzz tones is that, for example, people say you can get the fuzz sound from The Rolling Stones’ ‘Satisfaction’ by buying a Maestro Fuzz-Tone pedal, but I’ve seen countless demo’s of them and it sounds nothing like it, because it all depends on all the elements, like whether the guitar went straight into the board or if it was played through a broken speaker, or any number of things. There’s no way of knowing for sure. Maybe it’s because it was the ‘60s. Things weren’t documented but I still do it now, I get a sound and I won’t make notes on it because it’s like, “Why would I sit there and make notes on exactly what I did?”, so it becomes kind of lost and when people ask, “How did you get that sound?”, I don’t remember. Maybe it’s something that’s meant to happen - almost like you’re not meant to know, for ‘Trouble’ maybe it was the sound of the leather gloves they wore. The Music Machine had a very strange look, I think the singer wore a single leather glove and the rest of them wore roll necks and medallions."

"I originally chose the White Album, but then I thought, no, the White Album probably is my favourite Beatles record, but Sergeant Pepper is one of those records that everybody had and you heard it so many times that I didn't imagine I could ever possibly come back to it. But I have a librarian in me; some of the Wire things I've done I've made out of sources, to recreate something, and because EMI were so diligent about keeping all of the original material they were able to go back to the original 4-track tapes, put them all into Pro Tools sessions, get them all lined up and then start playing it back in a way that it was never played back. Because of the methodology of bouncing tracks- you'd record to a 4-track machine, then bounce it to another 4-track machine and whatever- by the time you'd gone seven or eight generations you're losing all of the top end on the original recordings. There isn't that kind of clarity there. There's clarity to Revolver that isn't in Sergeant Pepper because of all the layers of recording. And one of the remarkable things about the remaster of Sergeant Pepper is that clarity comes back with a vengeance. So the first thing that you can say about it is it actually sounds a lot more like Revolver than you ever imagined it did. And the second thing is they're right there in the room with you. It's completely present. The original recording was obviously really good. They were recording in Abbey Road with high end engineers. So what had sounded a bit mushy and indistinct is very clear. There are some things that I don't agree with. I don't like any of the tracks so much where they put the drums on one side because I hate that stereo picture, but they had their reasons for doing it. They tried to be as true as possible to the original mixes; that's the other thing, so you don't have a sense that this is a redo. You just have a sense that here's an ancient artefact that had been covered in grime and somebody's just cleaned all the grime off, and there you see the shiny thing in front of you."