"In my mind it conjures up those crisp autumn days. The first time I ever heard this record wasn't at the time [of release], it was a few years later. They put it out as part of a double album. That was the first time me and my mate [and early Jam member] Steve Brookes heard it. Steve lived near Woking Park and it was autumn time, so I guess that's always been part of it for me in terms of the sensations that it brings up. It's almost like a concept album in sonic terms. Like a suite almost. I went to see them about five or six years ago where they played three nights at Shepherd's Bush Empire - I went to at least two of them - where they played the whole album with the original line-up. That was really special. So many people that I talk to love that record, from all over the world as well. It's amazing that it's taken over 45 years for it to sink in. I like the English melancholic thing to it. It's something that's in the English psyche anyway, innit? Something to do with our appalling weather. It's probably my all-time favourite record. Whenever I've spoken to people who've never heard it I always try and go and buy them a copy."

"The first time I heard him was in London, it was 1964 and he had just come out with that album and I got it. It was in my manager Gordon Mills's Notting Hill Gate flat and he just had it because they used to send him stuff - things that I might like. There was this album, so I thought "Shit! This is tremendous" and recorded a bunch of the songs on there - 'If You Need Me' was one of the ones on the first album. Solomon was always my favourite soul singer, more than Otis Redding, Sam and Dave or Wilson Pickett. Solomon was a step above. He was more of a singer who happened to sing blues and gospel - you could tell that he came from the church, but he sang it better. Otis Redding used to get trouble with this throat - you could hear it in him. He was struggling to get out what he did. Wilson Pickett had great feel and great drive, but there was a roughness to his voice, and Solomon could be rough or sweet when he wanted to be, he could put his voice into different areas. And his range was huge - there's that track on it, 'Goodbye Baby, Baby Goodbye', he sings that in two octaves, which is tremendous. Real, very honest."

"The drum sound! The greatest bass sound ever! The rawness of it. ‘Isolation’ I absolutely love, and obviously we covered ‘Working Class Hero’. It’s really tight but there’s something about it that feels like they haven’t rehearsed much either - you see the film and they’re all coming in on the hoof. There’s some kind of bluesy nastiness - and I’m not a fan of the blues either - but there’s something about it, John Lennon’s guitar is really good on it, I think his guitaring was underrated actually. There’s so much savage bitterness there, ‘Mother’, just to start with the fucking bell chiming. I love that savageness. He’s having a go at McCartney, but he does it with so much wit, he can always glide over the top of it. I wish I had that ability, not to always drag it down with pure pettiness. “I don't believe in Elvis. I don't believe in Zimmerman/ I don't believe in Beatles” - I don’t think he could get “The Beatles” in, so it’s just “don’t believe in Beatles”. I love that album. There was a lot of that on [Wire’s solo album] I Killed The Zeitgeist actually, and there’s a lot on this album. I tried to learn that critical self-examination. I think John was a lot more psychoanalytical, he could use what he considered help, where as I was fucking on my own."

"This one I discovered more recently. I'm a big Hermeto Pascoal fan; I was turned onto Hermeto by Kamasi Washington when we were teenagers. But, again, it's Brazilian and stuff like that you have to seek out, you have to want to find it yourself because it doesn't always get translated. I didn't know about Egberto Gismonti at first, but I spent a lot of time listening to Hermeto, and I remember I went on tour with Miguel Atwood Ferguson in the band with me at one point. And Miguel is also an astute follower of music, to say the least. We were listening to Hermeto Pascoal backstage and Miguel turns and he goes 'Is this Hermeto? Do you know about his friend Egberto Gismonti?' and I was like, 'no'. Miguel proceeds to tell me this is the person that plays bass with Hermeto Pasqual, and he's a beast of a composer. He played me the album, and I was floored. I was completely overtaken by this album and the composition. It tells such a story – Egberto Gismonti's albums in general tell a story – but this specific album, there's some moments on it that are so intense that it's hard to listen to them. It's hard to play one song for somebody, but if I've ever played the record for somebody, it has to be listened to very loud."

"I think when we were kids it was all about Sgt. Pepper’s. There were a few albums that my dad had that we played a lot and that was one of them; we didn’t get far beyond that. And then when I eventually started listening to the old, old stuff, I didn’t like it so much. I realise that the innovations that they made composition-wise coloured all of pop music and a lot of rock as well – it coloured all of music really! But I wasn’t into it, not into listening to it. But then I decided to educate myself on The White Album, and I used it for everything: walking, working out etc. And I love it. I actually saw some footage of Paul McCartney doing ‘Helter Skelter’ recently and thought he really nailed it – I think he still does that song really well. I just love The White Album and I prefer it to all the other Beatles stuff. I can’t explain it though. I don’t even especially like any of the songs, it’s just that as a listening experience you can find yourself immersed in it while running on a treadmill as much as you can laying in your bed. It’s really versatile. I love all the Beatles’ stuff and it’s all eclectic, but I think this album is even more so."

"This is when I first started taking my bass seriously. This was this was a when I got hungry to understand what it meant to play bass. I thank God that there was a Stanley Clarke as a frame of reference to what to what is possible with the bass, along with Jaco [Pastorious] and Marcus Miller. There was a period where I stopped liking the practice, I was like 'uh I don't wanna practice', and my mom was really clever about it. She offered to pay me to transcribe Stanley Clarke's School Days. And of course, I'm like, 'I want to buy comic books and Marvel cards', so of course I transcribed School Days. Journey to Love and School Days became really personal to me. It was just like, I felt like this was my n**, and I felt like this was who I am; I identified with those two albums. I didn't even discover the self-titled album until later in life; I was very much married to School Days and Journey to Love. I think that Journey to Love is still very much a story to me that I feel resonates in my mind and body. I don't know what you would call it musically, but I paraphrased the album on my very first album, sonically."

"This is a very important album for me. When John Peel was alive, before he went off on the holiday that he didn’t come back from, he asked a few of us to look after his radio show for him – Siouxsie Sioux, Robert Smith – and he said that Rick and I could do anything we wanted, which was very generous of him. So Rick asked him if there was anything he wanted us to play and he handed us Tripper and said, “this has just come in and I really like it.” As somebody who grew up with John being my most important musical teacher, especially his philosophy around cross-collateralised ideas between musical genres – this was important because it was the last album he ever gave me. The last record he asked to be played on air. But I loved the sound of the album – again, they have a whole other structure for writing songs. They have this filmic quality. It’s a very panoramic sound. They were one of the first bands I ever heard using that glitchy, cut-up electronic vibe and yet incorporating it with traditional instruments. And when I go and see them live, sometimes they’re a three-piece, then a seven-piece, or they’ll have an orchestra with them – they defy definition. They just make beautiful music."

"Nina is another friend that we were introduced to via John Peel and his family. There were a number of people after his passing that I really wanted to get in touch with and Nina was one of them. That was John’s legacy. That and one-stop shopping, something that Radio 1 would benefit from the asset of again. John was a place where you could go to hear very disparate music – some of which you would love, some which you would loathe, and some of which you would loathe but come to love. Nina was one of the people that he played a lot. This was the album when I met her and her fella. She’s an extraordinary singer – for me, I think the greatest contemporary female lyricist. She and her boyfriend live in a tiny flat in Manhattan, almost like Russian peasants. There are lots of stuffed animals and huge rugs on her tiny bed and laptops hidden behind huge automatons. I love her guitar playing and her singing, but her lyrics challenged me to try to be as good. She writes from a woman’s point of view, beautifully. Her lyrics are very personal. I struggled with that before writing Edgeland. This, and the John Martyn album, and the James Blake album – they were all writing very personal songs."