"This was the record that sold me on that band. When I lived in Sacramento California I lived right next door to this little club called the Press Club, and they were playing there. I was sitting on my porch and their van pulled up and I started talking to them. That was when they were touring that record, and it was my favourite record at that time. It's heavy, but it has a lot of groove to it - I don't know if there were too many groups who were doing that kind of riff rock, but it had all these discord sounds to it, and then two bass players, one of them using distortion the whole time and the other guy holding down the low end, the keyboard player playing vibes. It didn't sound like anything else at the time. They were from DC, where a lot of my favourite bands are from, like Fugazi, Minor Threat, these bands who started a lot of scenes in music. I never got too into political rock and roll, obviously great lyrics are great lyrics, but what grabs me is the cadence of the singer, how they choose to deliver the words. And that dude, he had this raspy voice, this distinct voice, to me it was more sex, he has this loungy kind of vibe. Lyrically he seemed to talk about partying, drugs, and girls."

"This is my favorite film. By all accounts, the making of Godard’s first commercial movie was a nightmare for him, and you can see his own contempt written all over it. First he tells us that what we are about to see is fake, and then he proceeds to mock the commercial film industry for the rest of the movie. Some moments in the dialogue seem intentionally ludicrous, like when Paul describes his relationship with Camille through a heavy-handed interpretation of the Odysseus/Penelope myth. The stream of visual absurdities (Prokosch’s tiny book, Paul typing with two fingers, even the final car crash) discourages us from ever taking anything too seriously. Yet because Godard never tries to make us buy into a bunch of psychological hoopty-hoo, this film is devastating and feels realer as a depiction of a crumbling relationship than anything else I’ve ever seen. We’ve all known this couple: after the first flush of romance, the woman finds herself financially dependent on some self-centered, brutish mediocrity with a roving eye. We watch Camille vacillate between the horns of her dilemma in a totally believable way before making the decision to leave Paul and go back to being a typist. As the only non-cartoon character, with her convincing mix of youthful insecurity and defiant self-regard, Camille becomes the whole world of the film. The cinematography and score are perfect, and the final shot of the Mediterranean destroys me every time."