"My family, we only watch scary movies together. We do not watch comedy – anything – we just watch scary movies. The only other times that I have seen scary movies is when I’m watching Netflix in my room. And I think I’ve probably watched The Conjuring 100 times. I’m not exaggerating: I’ve watched The Conjuring a hundred times. I could recite the movie. A lot of scary movies usually just [feature] a bunch of pop-ups, which is pretty scary, but I don’t really think it’s that scary – it catches you off guard and you’re just shocked. But with The Conjuring it’s actually creepy stuff. And they have a lot of things that I have phobias of. It all piles up. It’s not just like, “Ooh that was scary for a second!” It’s like “Oh my God, that’s so scary!” and then it keeps adding on. It’s not a pop-up and then in another 20 minutes it’s going to be another pop-up. It’s: “Why is she still walking towards me? And why is it still getting more intense?”"

"One of the reasons this movie is important to me is that I’m a big fan of personal storytelling; people who tell their own stories and tell them vividly and honestly, and without sentimentality. It’s such a beautiful, naturalistic film, but unlike a lot of movies about children, it is devoid of sentimentality, but it’s also incredibly rich with emotion, which are two different things. It’s a painful movie in a lot of ways, but it’s just never cheap. There’s nothing cheap about the depiction of that young man’s life. It’s also one of the best child performances I’ve ever seen in a movie, because he’s a very specific character, but there’s nothing about him that feels forced, or that the filmmakers are trying to make you like him or pity him in a phony way. Jean-Pierre Leaud clearly had something special that is fascinating to watch; he’s really funny and charming, but also it’s strange to see a child character depicted so richly — he’s got flaws, there are sh***y things about him, but he captures all of it."

"I really like documentaries a lot; maybe more than film. I love this documentary called Hands on a Hard Body. It was made in the 1990s, I think. It’s about this annual event that takes place in Texas — it’s kind of like an endurance test of how long you can keep your hand on a truck. And if you are the last man standing, you get the truck. Literally, you just stand, day and night with your hand on a truck, and there’s like 15 or 20 people all standing there. And it’s such a well-done documentary. They feature each person before the program starts; the director comes in and he asks them questions like, “Why do you want to do this? Why do you want your truck?” and it’s just a real, unique look into people’s lives. It’s really powerful and it’s really moving and it’s kind of funny and odd and bizarre. It goes on for, I think, over 72 hours, and it’s really sad as you see this people dropping out. It says a lot about human endurance."

"This band were in a similar-shaped box to Silver Apples. The nucleus of the band – Joe Byrd – was from an academic background; he was part of the Fluxus movement at the same time as Yoko Ono. He looked like a freak but wasn't druggy. The band were definitely writing lyrics that were less utopian than a lot of the stuff the hippies were writing at the time; there's a subversive edge seeping through the record that's evocative of what was going on in the States at the time – Vietnam, conscription, campus violence, the civil rights movement. You can really imagine this lot playing at a proper happening. A track like 'Love Song For The Dead Ché' is one of the most beautiful songs ever written, whereas some of the rest of it has a real jagged edge, a violence almost, that seems to come from Byrd's more experimental side. It's a very political record. Their second album even more so. I could easily have chosen that; this one just edged it for me today."

"This series of pieces by Florian Hecker is great. The 30 minute modular synth piece in the book ended by the vocal pieces is a really amazing. I could listen to this piece as one whole composition – I don't actually know his mode of operation, but it works great as a collection. As a modular synth and electronic music guy, the middle movement is just masterful. And he's such an interesting guy, so again, very personalised as far as the way that he works. I don't know at all about what he thinks. In a lot of ways theoretically he's quite impenetrable, I don't know where he's coming from in some instances. He definitely excites me. A lot of his stuff is heavily theoretical. Like the Joan le Barbara movement in the beginning with the voice – it's like the reciting of these philosophical truths or something. And in a way, I would ask him, “Am I supposed to be digesting all of this information or am I supposed to be just letting it wash over me?” That's how I appreciate it."

"My older brother used to play this a lot in the house - the piano sample in 'C.R.E.A.M.' is probably one of the earliest things I can remember. It predates the first records I fell in love with, it was just always getting blasted out of his room. I didn't actively keep up with hip-hop - all I had access to was through him while I got more interested in guitar and rock music. When we were mixing Antidotes, I started to go back and actively rediscover a lot of the stuff my brother had been listening to at the time, from around '94/'95. I love the production, the lyricism and how evocative this incredibly captivating cinematic cartoon world is. I love the whole gang mentality, their self-sufficiency, the grittiness of the production. I don't think I've taken direct musical influence from them, but I admire their ethos and the self-mythologising, the way they turned it into something much bigger than just the tracks. It's just a fucking amazing record."