"On the first Strokes tour we had a Libertines demo on the bus. I remember thinking 'Oh man there's already a British version of The Strokes? That's fast, this is only the first tour!' Not that they were, but that was the perception around them. What is so cool about The Libertines is in fact that they're in that tradition of great British bands that really draw on being British to make a very special version of rock. The Sex Pistols are in that tradition, The Clash, all these really cool English bands that make you want to be some sort of geezer and know what a "two bob cunt" is. So being label mates with The Libertines and becoming friend with them they indoctrinated me into this whole British universe: listening to Chas And Dave, that comedian Tony Hancock and all kinds of weird British shit. In a way they became this vital group that almost channeled Lord Byron or Percy Shelley. They were almost a subculture unto themselves. At a time when England is in such a flux, their music reminds everyone why people love what being British is. The way they re-appropriated Albion and Blake's vision of England, it was just really beautiful. Their version of British, for me as a New Yorker, immediately made me want to learn about London and go to all these places. Their first record was a calling for people to learn about the history of England, their music made you want to educate yourself, but it is also so fucking catchy. I covered their song 'What A Waster' while they were in New York. They were recording 'Don't Look Back Into The Sun' at a studio but they were making these endless demo tapes that eventually appeared as the 'Babyshambles Sessions'. My version of their song was recorded while they were doing those. For me they were a band that birthed a new romantic movement in England."

"Beefheart was a bit of a dangerous guy. I did know Don Van Vliet quite well during 1972/73 and he was not a very nice man. He was pretty cruel to his musicians, which was pretty hard for them to take because they didn’t have a great opinion of him as a human being, nor as a musician. Don had no musical talent whatsoever, he simply employed other people to translate his maniacal ravings, musically speaking, into something that had a bit of order and discipline. Lyrically, however, Don did have a great talent and was a vivid painter – literally of course as a pictorial artist in that kind of abstract expressionist style. But he also employed that abstract expressionism in his lyric writing, and that makes him special and very worthwhile in spite of the fact he didn’t leave behind him a group of happy or respectful musicians. It’s rather sad that he was a bully. So he and Frank Zappa are my two big American, not influences, but revered examples of musical greatness. In Beefheart’s case it was a musically naïve greatness. Spotlight Kid and Clear Spot were the two albums around 1972, when Captain Beefheart and his band supported Jethro Tull when we were doing Thick As A Brick in America. Don called me himself, as Warner Brothers had told him what hotel I was staying in, and he kind of invited himself on tour. I tried to talk him out of it saying, “Don, this is not the passport to success you might think it is,” as audiences can be very cruel to support bands. But he was very insistent and Warner Brothers were desperate for some kind of outlet for Beefheart’s work and pushed for him to come on tour with us, so somewhat reluctantly I agreed. The audience did hate him and he got a rough ride every night. It was not successful for him in any way whatsoever. It was a misguided but interesting liaison."

"This goes back a long time for me. This was a real defining record for Supergrass around '95 when we were first starting out. It was on the tour bus all the time and I remember our tour manager at the time really loving it. He'd wake us up every morning knocking on our door going, 'baby's on fire!', doing this mad Eno impression and that would always lift us up and make us laugh. There were so many lyrics that we'd sing at each other. I'd meet Danny and go, 'Cindy tells me…' It had this really long lasting effect on us. It's brilliant, just brilliant. It's Eno being kind of clever but dumb, sophisticated but raw and I think it's brilliant. I love his voice and the double-tracking on it and I think it ended up being quite an iconic sound. It's very unique. And for all of his technical ability, I love that he plays dumb on some of these tracks, you know, like on 'Needles In The Camel's Eye' and the guitars are big, filthy, dirty and horrible things. I love it. We almost did work with Brian Eno. We had a meeting with him in Paris before Diamond Hoo Ha and I can't remember exactly what happened but I think our timing schedules didn't work out. It was something frustrating that meant we couldn't work with him. It's weird one. It's kind of like, are they different Brian Enos? Is it a danger to confuse the Here Come The Warm Jets Brian Eno thinking that he was going to walk into a studio with us and create something that gives you that feeling because he's a different person now. I think he's amazing and he's proved to be still a musical force. An incredible guy and he was a really lovely chap when we met him."

"My first concert! I rode my bike to the city, because I lived in the suburbs and I tried to meet Angus Young outside the tour bus, asking the security guy, [imitates younger self] "Can I meet Angus Young?" "No, he's not here!" "Hey dude! What the fuck?! Don't talk to me like that, I bought a ticket!" Also, it was my first experience of how loud - it was the loudest shit I've ever heard! And in the suburbs, they were a dangerous band. It was like, "Oh fuck, the devil", it kind of made Kiss look tame, and it just powers. And when Angus Young solos, it's just magic. I saw them on that tour when Bon Scott had died; he'd just died and Brian Johnson had just taken over, and I was totally sceptical, and then it was like, "Oh, he's fucking good!" And actually, when Kim left the band, and we're going, "Aw shit, we're fucked", and we're talking about what we're going to do, and then we're like, "Fucking AC/DC replaced the fucking lead singer! We can do this! [sombrely] We shall overcome!" And we thought about replacing Kim with a dude, and then we went, "What?! They replaced Bon Scott with a guy that sounds exactly like Bon Scott! Let's not break the plate! We're not broken, we're not broken at all. Give me a fucking break." So I was totally adamant [laughs]! Song two ['Girls Got Rhythm'], it's like: "SEX!" It's about "SEX!" It's not like Foreigner, where it's obvious but it's fucking stupid - come on, you can do better than that! It's like, "I want to have sex with you, what's the problem?" I think it's the ultimate way to get attention: "Come on, we're not here to meet up, let's cut to the chase. I'm not going to waste your time, don't waste my time! Let's fuck, come on, I don't have time for this!" [laughs]"

"I was up in Toronto rehearsing for the Painkiller tour and I saw Dimebag [Darrell, guitarist] on a local TV show and he was wearing a British Steel shirt. They played some clips of their music and it just instantly struck a chord. I jumped into a taxi and went down to the studio where they were recording this show, met him and became good friends. That night they were playing at a club in Toronto, and when I saw them live I was just blown away. After that, Priest took Pantera on tour in Europe and they'd never even been out of America before, but every night they would just stun the crowd. I just knew from the moment that I saw them, they were going to be huge. It's just a really great memory. What they were doing at that particular time was revolutionary. Before Cowboys From Hell, they were finding their way. Like any band, they were just trying to find out who they were and find that spark to make something happen. When I heard 'Primal Concrete Sledge' for the first time, my reaction was to just say, "Oh my god, what is this? I've never heard anything like this before." I got to work with Dime on a song and it was a thrill and a treasure to have that opportunity. The label said that there was a movie coming out, Buffy The Vampire Slayer, and asked me if I'd do a song. The one that I came up with was 'Light Comes Out The Black'. I didn't really know anyone locally who was available at the time. I picked up the phone and spoke to Dime about it and he told me to come down to Dallas because they were on a bit of a break. I flew down there the next day and played with him. It was done in more or less six hours and we ended up just sitting around trying to find something else to do with it."