"They famously reformed last year and I've seen them a couple of times and played on the same bill with them. One of my great regrets was that I came to this album a couple of years after it came out and my friends had all been to the show when they came through town and I missed it. It felt like a concert I should have been at. Part of it was that I hated guitar bands. In high school I was into terrible progressive rock like Emerson, Lake & Palmer and Yes, while all my friends were into Dinosaur Jr. and Sonic Youth. I always thought I was in the right and it was them who was barking up the wrong tree, which subsequently has made me a little bit embarrassed, because it was the 90s - I should've been listening to Sonic Youth. But I was firmly committed against guitar music and it was the same friends, like Ryan [Smith] - who's in my band now playing guitar and keyboards and other stuff, and who's been my friend since I was 11 or 12 - who was the guy in the Dinosaur Jr. T-shirt trying to get me to play organ chords in the background for his band, and I was grumbling away, ""When the fuck do I get my solo?"" And he introduced me to Neutral Milk Hotel. It's kind of an obvious way in for me, because it very much has that sound - the spiritual free jazz and the horns and the power and the instruments from around the world, different bagpipe kind of instruments - for me, it has that same spirit and wildness. It's also one of those albums, like the Pharoah Sanders, where the songs are all essentially the same song. And I don't mean that to diminish the achievement of this record because I think it's amazing, but when you have a record where you listen to the first song and the melody is so elemental to me - it's like it existed before this album was written - and then later on you hear another song and it's the same melody but inverted. Not in a technical sense, but you get the impression that these songs all come from the same tree and I love that. That's one of the things that the album format can do - tie things together like that. I've done that myself consciously on my records in the past - reprised a melody. On Our Love there are two songs that are essentially the same song revisited - 'All I Ever Need' and 'Your Love Will Set You Free'. Not the melody, but the underlying riff and the harmony."

"The moment I got into Crowded House, I was on tour – actually I went to see a Stevie Wonder gig in Wembley and I was like 'the guy doing the sound is brilliant.' And I thought it would be incredible if I could get him to do sound for me [which he did]. Anyway, I was at his desk one afternoon and he was playing Crowded House. I think he bought the cd for me and I just played the album and thought 'oh my God.' It was very different but very odd, there are some odd songs on there, especially as they were coming out of Split Enz as well who I knew a little about. So, I just grew to love it. I met my now wife as she used to work for EMI and had been doing promo for Crowded House's gigs in Denmark and what have you and had also been at Montreux – she was a mad fan as well. And 'Don't Dream' Is Our song, [shows me his wedding ring] – we have some of the lyrics inscribed here. I've had the pleasure – or the embarrassment – to tell Neil Finn this once. I saw him in a café in LA. And I thought 'do not, under any circumstances, tell him about ring' and before I knew it, I was going over telling him about the ring. I couldn't stop myself! By this time, I had seen them twenty times. But I was just there, in front of him going 'ummm..ehhh…ah fuck it!' But he was really polite and gentle and spoke about our mutual friend who used to be my musical director but was also producing Neil's album. How did he even know who I was?! I've seen Crowded House in so many different style of venues. I drove to Bristol to see them at the Bierkellar and so there was only three of them - there was no sign of Tim Finn… have you seen them live? No? Ah, fucking hell! They're amazing. I saw them at Hammersmith Odeon at one point and their drummer needed a piss mid-gig. So Neil Finn just started noodling and they ran around and swapped instruments and just started playing this nonsense song they made up on the spot. I just thought 'what is going on'! Every time I've seen them, they just make shit up. And I love that about them. Because they can be also so sincere about a lyric or a song they're gonna play. But where was I? Oh yeah, Bristol. Tim and Neil had just had a big bust-up. Tim had had enough. So that was quite a weird night. One of my favourite bands in terms of the music they make but also, as a live band, they're hard to beat."

"The Blue Nile was another sort of national treasure that I was drawn to and then thrilled to discover they were local. I can't overestimate what it meant to fall in love with bands from Scotland who enjoyed success. It just opened up windows for our minds, because there's a certain particularly being a 70s baby and London just felt so far away – success of any kind, or glamour, felt far away. Whenever a Scottish band would succeed on a national level it felt really immense. 

 What I also just loved about The Blue Nile was how evocative and sad they sounded. I loved the sorrow in their records, because up until hearing them, I'd hadn't really heard sorrow. I'd heard non-conformity, I'd heard rebelliousness with Siouxsie and the Banshees or The Clash, but I'd not heard sorrow. 

 Depression and sadness have always been a part of my language and my family all sort of thought or considered me a complete freak as a result. They just thought this whole darkness and my gloominess was an annoyance and at best, an irritant. But to me it's always been part of my interfacing with the world. Sorrow, sadness and depression – it's just existed in me and it's part of, I think, human nature. 

 When I heard Blue Nile, I was like, 'Ah, old friend, I recognise you, there you are. Somebody else feels the same as me'. I loved the sort of expansiveness of their sound. It felt very sort of like a modern Frank Sinatra to me, in a way. It's an obvious comparison but the sweeping, Nelson Riddle-esque type of sonic landscapes just really captured my imagination. 
 
 Paul Buchanan's got this ache in his voice that's, again, very unusual. You don't really hear a lot of people sound like Paul. I loved the sort of ordinariness of the lyrics too – it was very much sort of relatable, simple, and unglamorous expressions of love; I just really identified with that. 

 Pop music has always just alienated me for one reason or another – I just don't identify with it or understand it. So somebody like Paul Buchanan and the Blue Nile literally speaks my language. It's a language that isn't often used or utilised in day-to-day culture. I think we're all encouraged to hide our mental health issues, or encouraged to hide our depression, our sadness and our griefs. I believe in the expression of grief: I think it's imperative for a joyful life, and why live if you can't live joyfully? 

 To live joyfully one must express negative emotions. It's really, really important. And those people who shirk from so-called negative expression, I think, are cutting off an entire part of their own happiness and existence."

"Just like we had a group of friends in Toulouse, we had a group of friends in Chicago, with everybody playing in each other's bands, and really we found a family there. Those were wonderful years, but since then a lot of people have moved to LA, or just moved out. Sam I believe still lives in Chicago. I don't know if he's still making music. I sure hope so. He moved away from this type of music to buying analogue electronic machines and playing around with those a lot and it was divine, but he'd moved away from the pop format the last time I heard him. But I do love Sam Prekop, and I probably have even more of a soft spot for his solo albums than for his work with The Sea And Cake, which I also find superb, but the solo stuff has always touched me more somehow. Maybe it's because there's less at stake. Maybe they're more free and therefore more direct. You don't have to show off your prowess so much, I don't know. But I do like the freedom of them. It's like laughter, the way it comes out. I really like that. I find that in beautiful, well-crafted songs we approach perfection. Not that we should seek perfection necessarily; we're perfect as we are. But for me, artistically and aesthetically, we're coming close to something quite perfect, and therefore it makes it into my list. The album feels so lightly or deeply attuned that you don't have to force it down. You don't force it, you just let it be and follow it. You let it guide you, and that's a big quality to Sam's writing. Sam could probably have been a much bigger star in terms of having more fans, but I think he's probably always protected himself from that, knowing very well it would probably destroy his muse. It's very difficult to not get crushed by too much popularity. You want to please people and meet their expectations, and expectations are just the worst thing. They're the worst poison. They should be absolutely prohibited and fought against, actively. I sense that also: that people when they meet me have expectations. They have a whole story in their mind and then when they meet me and I'm just me it's somehow ah, I'm not what you expected me to be. But that's a trap, the expectation, and I try to avoid it. I try to not have expectations, because most of the time you're going to be disappointed. So why live a life of disappointment, when you can live a life of joy?"