"A friend of mine played me the Wu Tang album way before it came out. I was so entrenched and deep into this music shit by then that a lot of music was shared through people I knew and I would subsequently hear a lot of projects in their demo phase. I also got a lot of stuff from attending the underground mix shows: this was one such record. The Friday night mix shows were so special back in the day, especially in breaking new music – and what a record this was to break. It took me multiple listens to realise this was so radically different from anything I'd ever heard previously. Soon enough, I was like 'Yo, this shit is amazing.' Hearing nine different MCs with totally different styles meant that it took a little time for the Wu Tang to settle in: I admit I didn't get it the first time I heard it, but once the record came out and I started hearing it more and more, I knew this was something very special indeed. I had my favourite MCs in the group like everyone did, but as I started to get to know them more and more, I realised this was a group where at least six or seven of the nine MCs could just go off and be platinum selling artists in their own right. How many groups or collectives can you say that of? It wasn't even like a supergroup or something put together specially – these guys just came from the same sort of space as us and they were doing this incredible shit. RZA's production was phenomenal and I admired it so much, especially the concept of the slang, the Kung Fu…it was ridiculous. All the other philosophies behind it too were so special. For me, there was always something for everybody in that band because you have nine entirely different personalities in there and you're going to find something to like out of those nine motherfuckers [laughs]. Everybody had their favourites, me included. The first time I heard it, RZA and GZA were my favourites then as time went on, I liked Raekwon and Ghostface Killah. I saw them a couple of times live, like very early on before they really blew. Their gigs were just pure raw energy and the stage was chaotic and hectic because there's nine people on there with mics doing their own thing. They didn't have the most organised shows but there was this energy that they brought – this wild, fucking crazy ball of energy that they always delivered on the stage. You never really did know what was going to happen next and that was always exciting Ol Dirty Bastard was also one of the most unique characters ever in music. I always look for uniqueness and authenticity in an artist and he just had it in abundance for me. I heard him and thought, 'He's one of a one'. His music had a message of like, 'don't get stuck, free yourself'. It was a powerful message. I don't know if they can ever do something like this again or if something this special will ever exist once more: they had so much powerful energy. It's something very hard to hold together when everyone is going in a bunch of different directions, continually shifting. Yet they did it in that space and in that time: I doubt you can repeat that."

"I didn’t really know about ABBA when I was growing up, they’re one of those bands you think you’d get into through your parents, but my parents didn’t listen to them. I think the first time I heard them properly was in Muriel’s Wedding, obviously that wasn’t a cool thing so they became a kind of guilty pleasure, but when Mamma Mia! came out in my late teens I was ‘Damn, all of these songs are so fucking good.’ “I have this list of songs in my head that I think are perfect, obviously that’s completely subjective, but they’re untouchable pop masterpieces like ‘God Only Knows’, ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’, ‘Waterloo Sunset’ and ABBA have so many of them. There’s a humanity in their songs but they also feel like ‘how could anyone have made something so perfect?’ The writing, the production, the arrangements, even the way their voices sound, it has the same effect as when siblings sing. Their voices are unbelievable, sometimes I think ‘is that a weird harmony?’ but it’s just the way their voices sound together, it’s incredible. “This song makes me well up because it’s so perfect, but it’s also so silly, it makes me want to throw my hands in the air, I want to dance when I hear it and I want to smile. You feel silly when you hear it, you feel camp and like a character in Muriel’s Wedding or Mamma Mia! when it comes on. It’s an amazing feeling and that is the power music isn’t it? “The other thing you have to remember is that one of the things that made The Beatles so amazing and such an interesting proposition and a reason why people really like The Velvet Underground as well, is because they changed the way songs were written, they rewrote the rulebook. Before then all music essentially sounded the same, everyone was using the same three or four chords and melodies, that kind of Rockabilly and Rock and Roll, all operating in the same framework, even the blues, The Stones and The Beach Boys, until they started breaking the rules too. But ABBA were making this music only ten or twenty years after pop music as we know it began to exist and it’s so innovative. “You know when people talk about their favourite bands? They’re a band who if you’re in a car, someone could put on an hour of ABBA and I’d like every song and there’s bands who I consider to be my favourite bands who I couldn’t say that about. It’s banger after banger, I guess it depends what mood you’re in, actually I was listening to them in a car the other day and someone told me to turn it off! “It’s mind-bending how good they are when they’re at their best. I think music is more often than not written about as art, but it’s also entertainment and whilst what they do is this incredible art it’s also so entertaining. It’s funny, we’ve been speaking about music for the last half an hour but this is the first time where we’ve talked about music making us happy and that’s really important. Music should make you happy and ‘Dancing Queen’ definitely does that."

"I really like to do covers, but the idea of a children's choir doing such classic songs and interpreting them… In 'Space Oddity' there's 'ding!', one vibraphone hit that's totally out of time and a tambourine will go at the same moment and then there's "ground control to Major Tom", these little kids - you can imagine them being really stoic and really getting behind what they were singing and being so serious about it. And then there's little jangly guitars that are so 70s as well, you can almost hear the school wall. People would do anything now to record an album that sounded like it was in a 70s school, but that wasn't them trying to be cool, that was them being who they were and what they were doing. And then 'Desperado', there's a nine-year-old girl who sings, like the quietest voice I've ever heard, but they've mic'ed it up so well. I purposefully try sometimes to mic up my voice really quietly so it sounds like you're being told a secret. This little girl, her voice is shaking, but it's the most gentle sound - it's like when a little child reaches up and touches your face, that feeling of… it's called Innocence & Despair - they're absolute innocents, but they're also singing songs like 'Desperado' and "oh Mandy, you came and you gave without taking and I pushed away", but it's seven-, ten-, 12-year-olds singing. 'Space Oddity', the fact that that's about a spaceman just stuck out in space just drifting away, and they do make it sound quite psychedelic and eccentric and funny. And the shambolicness of it is so cool. What I like is that so many people try to do that, that faux-childishness, and this guy who was running it was obviously a passionate, avid music lover of that time, and persuaded the school and the parents to let these kids sing pop music, which then was pushing boundaries. It's beautiful. He [Hans Fenger, organiser/arranger of project] really managed to pull something together. I think it all comes down to the beauty of being not self-aware. They're aware, they're trying their best, but it's like the older you get I suppose the more you feel nostalgic about those times and that feeling. Picasso and Matisse and great artists have always been trying to get back to childhood. You get to a certain stage and you want to revisit, but trying to keep that childhood alive is almost the hardest thing, because you build up all these layers of self-awareness and what you want to project and how you want to do it. Even now when I watch Glee and all that shit, all these kids have got the dance routines down - I'm sad that there's no one being this shit anymore. You should be a bit shit when you're little, because that's the freedom. Having perfectly scaled voices, and projecting, and knowing how to communicate with your audience. It's just like, "really? Is that what it's about or is this what it's about?": a bunch of kids getting together, loving it and making mistakes and not caring and sounding a bit out of tune. "I'm going to play my vibraphone part, it's in the wrong place, but I loved it, I'm going to do it again!" Just one note, in the wrong place, amazing. You're playing David Bowie and you're seven, what more is there?"