"I didn’t want to have a theme in the records I picked. It’s a record I’ve listened to a lot lately. One of my children is 7 years old and he’s been learning a lot about Greek history recently and picking up tidbits of information. He was saying to me that he really wanted to hear some Greek music. This is not what he wanted to hear. He wanted to hear some folk music, not some weird shit. He wanted: ‘Ops la! Da da da da!’ Some cheery Greek dance music. I stumbled onto this. I asked him if he wanted Greek or ancient Greek and he said ‘ancient’ because it sounded cool. But this is incredibly trippy. It feels like a play. You don’t know where the down beat is for most of the songs. I have never figured out what about it is actually Greek. It was recorded by Spaniards in the 70s. Whether it's real or impressionistic, I don’t care. I just really like it. There’s a lot of haunting stuff in it. I’ll have the record on late at night when everyone else has gone to bed. It’ll be playing and you’ll hear the voice speaking Greek and squeals. I’ve really grown to love it and know certain pieces. I know they have made other records and I want to get them"

"Obviously the Fugees were huge, but Lauryn, she was at that point where she was the empowered female. If we look back across the decades, she was at the forefront of all that. “This was around the time that I was making those trips up to Soho and to D'Arblay street, or Red Records in Brixton. I put this song on and I thought ‘This is amazing.’ And then you get to see the video! You know that split screen one? “I think she set the bar for a lot of women who came after her. When you think of Foxy Brown and Lil' Kim - those type of artists - you can draw a line to the Nikki Minaj’s and Cardi B’s of today. But Lauryn was super conscious. And vocally – fuck you can sing!"

"I've been a Cope fan since I was 15. He was a guy that nobody else was into, at least in my town - I'm from Temple, Texas. When you're that age and there's something you know about that you love obsessively and no one else is into it, it becomes a personal thing. I had all the records. It seemed like every time I would go down to Austin and went down to Sound Exchange there would always be a new Julian Cope record. Something older that I had never heard before or something new he was putting out that was not a main release but sort of a side release or he was releasing it itself. It sort of fed the obsession a bit. And then he was really into The 13 Floor Elevators and The 13 Floor Elevators were from Austin and then he put out a record called Droolian which had an Austin PO Box on the back and I didn't understand why that was. He wasn't here but somehow it had an Austin PO Box. I had a weird personal connections to those records. Out of all of his records, why pick Jehovahkill? I picked that one because that to me is the peak of his experimentation. It's also really great songwriting. It's a very, very kraut-influenced record. it's an expansive record. It was three sides. Not a full double album but it was three sides and on the fourth side you had an etching. He was always doing things like that. He was putting thought into it. He was the first artist I ever listened to that ran music in the run out grooves of the record. He wrote little inscriptions in the run out grooves of the record and there was all these hints and mysteries and all that stuff adds up to something. I'm not sure what right now but at the time I was just obsessed. I used to cover 'Upwards at 45 degrees' at solo shows, it's a great one. "

"Of all the records I've chosen here, they all changed my life in some way but the one that had the most profound impact on me was Public Enemy's It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back. This just blew me away because it was one of those moments in my life where I was like 'How do you do this?' Some of the other records I'd listened to at the time, I'd managed to figure out how they'd done stuff, how they made a certain sound. As a musician, when somebody comes along and does something that you never thought of, that you didn't know was humanly possible and it just twists fucking everything you thought was possible up in your brain, that's a big fucking impact. That was the impact of Public Enemy to me. My first thought was: 'I need to figure this shit out. What the fuck is this?' I was just a kid listening to this but I just didn't know what they were doing and I was hungry to know. I was a Public Enemy fan from the very first album. When this album came out in 1988, it revolutionised sound and music: it was like a fucking tsunami of sound coming at you. Everything about them was brand new and different and I just listened to them as a nineteen-year-old kid with my mouth open thinking: 'What the fuck?' Public Enemy were probably the pinnacle of music production and the best band in the world at that time. They were easily one of the best production teams in the world in any genre of music back then. Like so many of the records I'm picking, this was like a genre changing historical landmark piece; it wasn't just a record that was put out – this was a record changing the culture and the way that people explored music. They were always a voice for the dispossessed, but they never ever felt preachy with it, which I liked so much."