"I see this as the mothership of a whole new century and a step further in the sexual adventures of pop culture. Antony means something to me emotionally. It was a perfect work of art, and people who I'd recommended it to, had despaired at my recommendation and couldn't understand it, and found it depressing, but it just came in a moment in my life when sadly my pet dog died, and it was just before its 17th birthday. He meant a lot to me and it was almost like having a child - a constant companion. I kind of cried non-stop for three months. I was in a gloomy cloud. But there was some sort of hope amongst the glamour and the gloom on that record, and a rebirth or coming out of a cocoon like a butterfly. I did get to meet him after the Turning show at the Barbican - and he's a big bird, isn't he? I also met Andy Butler [of Hercules & Love Affair] who was working on that tour and all the other glamorous characters. That was quite a special moment for me, the Turning performances. That was quite a momentous album."

"I think I must have heard it on tour in the late 90s. When you’re a kid you know Lust For Life or The Passenger and all about his work with Bowie. But when it came to less well-known stuff, it was different. It was before you could find things out so easily, you just had to know a bit about the artist and dig around a bit. When I heard this I thought, “What a great band, what a great time!”. It’s got that slightly postpunk feel, it’s so tight, the drums are really dry. And I love the backing vocals – when the rest of the band do them it’s like a gang but it isn’t laddy; it’s got a cool sophistication about it. I think that’s what Iggy brings to things: he’s raw, he’s kind of punk, but he always has a sense of style. Maybe that’s what Bowie and Iggy saw in each other, that common ground of not over-intellectualising things, of being throwaway but with care and thought. And I love his lyrics, they can be funny – especially with some of the ad-libs – but always cool."