"I don't like all of the record, but I forgive the bits of it that are drenched in too much Marty Ballin, because other than that there's 'White Rabbit', 'Somebody to Love'... There's that crazy reverbed out acoustic piece, 'Embryonic Journey', that I've been playing at parties at my house and no one knows what it is. It's otherwordly. And I like that era of radical San Francisco glamour, there's an element of that in Big Brother and the Holding Company too. There's something about the way the guitars and drums were compressed together that I like. I like that era of Grace Slick, she's at the peak of discovering her dynamics and her voice. Even lyrically, she comes out with some cool shit, she's so confident and so free that we get those great, simple songs. When she gets to that very last "feed your head", it's just a perfect moment. They build to that and it's completely perfect. You couldn't write it that way, you couldn't think to do it, you just have to do it and hope you don't fuck it up."

"The Deer Hunter. I think the subject matter was very interesting. The way Michael Cimino works, he just got so much out of his actors, especially De Niro, Walken, and John Cazale, even secondary characters like the French guy in the movie. I’ve probably seen the movie 30 times, and you’re just on the edge of your seat the whole time, you don’t know what’s going to happen next. I think the interesting relationship that Walken and De Niro had with Meryl Streep is very complex. Really great movies are made out of special moments, and there were just so many moments in the movie, like when Chris Walken broke down when they were asking him his family’s name while he’s sitting in the window. I always remember that. The way that Bobby De Niro went back to rescue his friend. I think the movie had a lot of layers and a lot of integrity, and I think the love these men had for one another was so real you could identify with it. It was like going back to get your brother, you know?"

"This album was massive for me. Still is. I first heard this on a cassette in the post from my brother with a note saying, "Demis Roussos on bass!" He put two tracks on there and they both blew my mind. I knew immediately I needed to find this record but was convinced it was incredibly obscure. A few weeks later, I was in this old drill hall in Falmouth that doubled up as a house-clearance furniture shop. Flicking through the records in there, between multiple copies of No Jacket Required and some Cornish male-voice choir stuff, there was 666. I bought it and raced home and was pretty pleased to hear it was a lot more bonkers than I could ever have imagined. This album is properly bonkers. The gatefold sleeve has a 2CV crashed into a wall; the music is so incredibly inspirational. As a piece of work it's outside of any frame of reference – it's like discovering a new colour or a new flavour. Every time I see a copy I have to buy it – I give it to anyone I know who doesn't have it yet."

"This is quite a diverse one compared to the rest of them. I'm pretty sure it was my first introduction to dance music full stop. Somehow my brother ended up with it (he was four years older so a lot of stuff I like came through him). He came along with this album called K-Klass, and I didn't even know how to say it. When I first listened to it, I didn't understand how it was made or what it was or what I was listening to. It was really just early 90s standard dance music with house vocals. I remember dancing to it with my sisters and my parents not really getting it. And so I thought, ""Well if my parents don't get it, maybe this is the cool new thing!"" I was only about 7, a chubby little kid dancing around to this stupid music. But it gave me a sense of something I had never felt, which was a sense of ownership of music. These sounds were truly new, my parents didn't have them and we did. It spurred me into more electronic music as a kid."