"I’ve always been a fan of Miguel. I remember listening to Kaleidoscope Dream in a hotel room in New York; there’s this real sexy, urbane quality to that album. His next record, Wildheart, has a real lo-fi sultriness—there’s this weird disparity between those two things, because people think of sultry as being writ-large, with this polished quality, but when you give it this bedroom-recording quality, it adds a sensitivity and a vulnerability that Miguel just has in spades. I love the way he spells out the titles of his songs in lowercase, too. He has a way of being sweetly diminutive and then larger than life. “Told You So,” from his new album, War & Leisure, really grabbed me right away. I first heard it when I was in my bedroom getting ready to go out, which is really important music listening for me. It always feels like a motivational soundtrack and returns me to my teenage self: creating an imagined narrative that usually never comes to fruition. I always think the getting-ready part somehow supersedes the experience itself. It’s better than the party. Even when I’m alone, when I’m still in the realm of fantasy of what the night could be, it’s always better than what the night is. And I’m definitely just talking about going out to very pedestrian events—it’s not like I’m going out to some wild dance party. But music has always accompanied those moments of trying on different clothes, looking at myself in front of the mirror, trying to do something even remotely reasonable with makeup—it always feels aspirational, and buoying. That was the first time I heard “Told You So.” I really thought, “This will be my going-out song for the next six months.” And it has been."

"I'm reminded how great it is all the time. It's a weird record, it has passages that are just fucking weird bleeps out of a synthesiser. People dismiss it because it's so popular, and I would tell them if they heard pieces of it they would think it's some freaked out indie group with these great old synthesisers. It's just so well done. There are these strange, jazz elements to Pink Floyd that I think musicians notice. I don't think the audience cares - these neat little things they do that make it their own trip. These combinations of chords and notes that just aren't typical. I suppose to me, it's universal music. I think they do this reptilian brain version of universal, emotional music and they use these very simple build-ups and harmonies, and they nail it on that record 20 different times. And to know that they end on one of the great crescendos that they've ever done, that bit in 'Eclipse' where they sing "all that you touch, all that you feel"… the way that builds up, no-one is ever going to do it that perfectly again. Those simple words, those simple themes, building, building. And you've got to remember it's Roger Waters singing. He's not a great singer, but it highlights this thing - it's a motherfucker, you can't write a song that great. You just have to hope that something happens. For them to end on that [sings a spot on Waters impression] "the sun is eclipsed by the moon." Blammo! Then that heartbeat, it's fucking phenomenal. It's easy to dismiss it because it's so popular, but I would say to anyone they should secretly listen to it and then discover that 'oh my God, it's awesome'."