"I'm just realising as we're going through them - so many of these songs are about loss aren't they? ‘To the East’ isn’t just straight-up melancholy, it’s a song of hope as well; it might be completely redundant, impotent hope, but there is still hope in there. “She's singing to somebody to come back and that the East could be home, but the whole time you're listening to it you suspect the truth of the situation is that those words will never actually be said. Or maybe that's just the way I'm feeling it, I don't know. Again though, it's a very easy song to empathise with; I really believe the voice that's singing it to me. I don't know whether it's about a personal experience or if they're just imagined characters and to be honest, I don't care. I'm right there with them - I'm feeling it too. “I think either our first or second ever show outside of Britain - I can't remember which - was with Electrelane, in Barcelona at that club, Razzmatazz. It was quite the thrill, to be leaving the country to open up for this band we loved. I was really sad when they split up - again, another loss. I wish they were still performing. I think the last time I saw them was at Field Day in 2011 and they were still so great. They did a cover of 'I'm on Fire' by Bruce Springsteen and it was really something else. “They're one of those bands where you only need to hear a few seconds of any given song to know it's them, which means they've also got that trick of being able to make a cover sound like they wrote it themselves.”"

"The Kinks, like The Who, are one of those quintessentially great English singles bands but I’ve listened to this album so many times and I just fucking love it. It’s obviously such a big influence on Damon Albarn’s writing. You know the song ‘Big Sky’? 'Big sky, too big to cry.' You can almost hear someone shouting 'Parklife!' at the end of it, do you know what I mean? On the opening track you’ve got the lyrics mentioning all the strawberry jam, Fu Manchu, Mrs Mop and all this quintessentially English stuff, and when I started getting older so I was listening to records not just feeling them it suddenly hit me, 'These lyrics are fucking outrageous. How do you get all that stuff in there and make it work?' The album is incredible. I’ve got an old album of interviews with Ray Davies and he was saying that he thought it was important that we keep all of this traditional stuff like afternoon tea, cricket and cucumber sandwiches alive because American culture was taking over the world but he couldn’t imagine it taking over England. But then you realise… oh shit… it did. What a cunt. What a cunt. It took ages to come out because of legal shit, got delayed for three years and then no one bought it. I presented him with an award a few years ago and I thought, now’s my chance to get to know more about the writing of such a great album. So I was like, 'So Village Green, tell me about this great album…' And he’s grumpy at the best of times and just went: [snaps] 'Oh, I don’t know.' I was like, 'Ok, good to get that one sorted out finally. Nice to meet you.'"

"""My favourite Julian Cope is loose Julian Cope. Back in the day, I was already a fan of his, because of World Shut Your Mouth and Saint Julian; those were great records, not super loose, but very rock and roll. Then, he put out My Nation Underground, which I was pretty dissatisfied with. It had its moments, but it was too produced, and so '80s. I think even he’s disowned that one now. ""After that, I’d be surprised, because I’d be going to the record store and he’d be putting out these albums with no announcement. One of them was Skellington, which this song is from. That record was huge for me, to the point that I named one of my early bands after it. Droolian came after that and it just felt like, when he really hit his peak with Peggy Suicide and Jehovahkill, it was those previous two albums that really laid the groundwork. ""They were totally loose and off the cuff, he was mumbling the lyrics and the liner notes said that he hadn’t ever really finished them. They’re not commercial records and that made them all the more fascinating to me. They’re more human. It was a lesson - not every record has to be polished. You don’t need to appeal to everyone who’s known you up until then. It’s good to throw up the occasional roadblock. ""Plus, at that moment in time, he was doing the whole “Being a rock star” thing better than anybody else. I hung off of anything he had to say; it felt like nothing he was saying wasn’t extraordinary. I mean, the title of the song says it all. He's just an amazing character."

"For me this album was a pivotal moment in my life when I was 17 years-old. I bought it the opening day it came out – at midnight at Tower Records. I went home, played it and it blew my mind with its baroque production and how ambitious it was lyrically. I felt 'Oh my god, someone who is alive right now is making album the way people like David Bowie, Bob Dylan and The Beatles did.' It really felt like a fully realised act of genius. The lyrics were so mysterious to me and beautifully written. I still think about the songs all the time, and their cool landscape lyrics about decay and death. It's Leonard Cohen-ish. I was astounded by the whole vision and wondered how anyone who is alive right now make something so good. Growing up with other hero bands of mine like Nirvana, I always thought these refined masterpiece records were a thing of the past and that my generation were slackers who wouldn't aspire to make stuff on that level, but when Beck made Mutations he was a master artist showing you an actual jewel he'd made. It was so inspiring. More importantly, for me the day I heard Mutations is the day I decided to get a notebook and carried it around in my pocket everywhere I went, just to write down everything I was thinking. It turned me into a walking scribe of my interior landscape. I just try to excavate all my ideas onto notebook pages and I've been chronic notebooker ever since. I've never not had an endless scroll of notebooks. The reason I bought my first notebook was because of this record's quality, it set me on a creative path."

"I would say that David Bowie had the biggest single influence on all music that came out of the time period when I started at the beginning of the 1980s. And all other bands in that modern music zone were influenced most by David Bowie. Throughout the seventies we could safely say that he pretty much owned it. If The Beatles owned the sixties, Bowie owned the seventies. I could have picked any one of his albums. I thought about Hunky Dory which I have played most, or Ziggy Stardust... which was the first album I ever bought. I thought about Station To Station which changed things as his influences morphed and then the whole Berlin trilogy which were extraordinary records. I decided on Aladdin Sane as I think it is the ultimate glam album. Musically, it was fuelled with seventies energy. Mick Ronson’s guitar work is spectacular, the tracks all have an anxiety to them – songs like ‘Cracked Actor’ and ‘Panic In Detroit’ really had an edginess. The singles ‘The Jean Genie’ and ‘Drive-In Saturday’ were probably not even the best tracks on the album – ‘Lady Grinning Soul’ is my favourite track on the album – but had an attitude. You could taste the air they were recorded in. It was the album that turned Bowie into an absolute superstar worldwide. I played it a lot when I was a kid and it was one of those records that made me want to be in a band. Also, it’s by far the greatest cover of the 1970s. The image of the flash across Bowie’s face really resonates. It’s held up – I see that the V&A museum are having a big show of Bowie’s career and memorabilia (and so they should) and the image they are using to advertise it is the front cover of Aladdin Sane."

"I never knew if this was a compilation album or not, but it was the one that was around when I was at school. All of my mates had this record. 'Sunshine Of Your Love' and 'Crossroads' are my two favourite cuts off the album, but the thing was although as a band they were gifted with tons of ability they were also very musical with their recordings. One of the things they got, which I don't think a lot of the other bands did, was that it's great to jam for an hour live, but a record is a repeated instant. When you make an album it's something that people listen to over and over. So I think there were two Creams. There was the one that recorded and did songs that were four minutes long like 'Badge' and things, and then in something like 'Crossroads' they kind of just kept the best bits. I think they got it right. It's very difficult to be inspired and to be inspirational to your other players without it having to be a long-winded routine to get there. And alongside all that was that track 'A Mother Was Washing Her Baby one Night' which was brilliant ['Mother's Lament' from Disraeli Gears]. When I heard that it made it okay to have a sense of humour sometimes and to not take yourself too seriously. For me that last three minutes on the album probably had more of a message than a lot of the rest of it did, because it resonated that yeah, you can do something that's fun. You can do something that's funny, because actually we're pretty good at the rest of it already."

"I can’t really remember when I first heard this song, it was probably on tour at some point with Supergrass, but I heard it again a year or so ago on the radio on 6 Music and I remembered what a cool song it was - ‘Oh fuck yes, I know that track, I’m going to listen to it again.’ I heard The Fire Engines on 6 Music recently, their song ‘Big Gold Dream’ and again I remember hearing that over the years and thinking ‘fuck, that’s really cool’, it really reminded me of early Supergrass as well and then you hear the new wave punk thing and all the bands that The Fire Engines must have inspired. “We Did It Again’ satisfies that whole kind of throwaway feel to a song. I love the beat of this and the pace of the track. It’s my kind of drumbeat as well, that motoring, 1974 German drumbeat. I’m not really a big Soft Machine fan to be honest, I haven’t got loads of their records, but I really like the vibe of this. “I think it’s inspiring in terms of way that it sounds and a repetitive lyric is always good, I always love a repetitive lyric. It’s the attitude of track, that’s another thing that jumps out at me when I hear something, the attitude. This is kind of irreverent and offhand and I like things when they’re throwaway. They’re not throwaway in the sense that they’ve not been worked on a lot, but this is a great one for me in that if you can deliver something that you’ve worked on and it’s finessed but it sounds a bit throwaway, I think that’s a great combo."

"I’ve known this song for about ten years from when I picked up the compilation album Disco Not Disco on tour, I found it on vinyl and I just liked the cover. This song’s from the end of the ‘70s, its New York, disco-punk and that’s my other thing, like ESG and those sort of bands, it’s the sort of song you’d hear in a weird dark New York club in the late ‘70s. “Like with a lot of these songs it’s got a groove, but it’s a slightly off the beaten track sort of groove, there’s a dirty bassline running along and a cool beat that makes it. There’s a vibe about it and it gets me going, you can put it on just before you go out, or like the Beefheart track I’ll put it on if I’m having a party. “I don’t really do dance music or funk but that doesn’t mean that stylistically I can’t attach myself to elements of them, it’s just a case of finding inspiration in anything, even if it’s not my school. There’s no reason why I can’t hear a song by Kendrick Lamar or Kanye West or whoever and hear an element of it and think ‘Fuck, that’s great’ and relate to it. It’s similar with this song, it’s like ‘Wow, that’s not what I expected’ but I’m hearing other things in it that I find inspiring from the point of view of being in a studio and creating a piece of music. It’s like ‘Copenhagen’ by Scott Walker and hearing an element of that or the percussive element of Kazino, there’s no reason why those two can’t marry together."

"I forget quite which year this album came out [2004], but it was an astonishing time for new music. There were wonderful albums by Martha Wainwright, Antony And The Johnsons and Arcade Fire. Micah P. Hinson's record was another – it was so simple. It didn't really have choruses or verses – he had a thing which I call a 'ver-chorus', which is something in between the two. It was totally memorable and his words never fail to hit the mark. The simplicity means that the album depends very strongly on the arrangement and they are impeccable. They remind me of Leonard Cohen in some ways. He has a wonderfully deep voice. He seems to have gone through some kind of hell. I am not quite sure what it was – he made reference to it when I saw him play a show. Every single lyric hits home to me. Some of them sound a bit like homilies to me, but the way he sings them makes you believe him. There is not a dud track and I still listen to it, to this day. I have tried many of his later songs, but this is the record if you want an introduction to Micah P. Hinson. It's a great record. When you asked for the list, I could have chosen bands that meant more to me – I didn't choose a record by The Doors – and I could have easily included Martha Wainwright's debut, but in the end I had to be honest with myself and come back to the records I cannot stop playing. This is one of them. It was a toss-up between Martha and Micah, and I went for Micah in the end."