"This is the most contemporary record of the lot. They're a West Coast band. There's one track on there called 'Valiant Brave', which is one the most extraordinary songs I've heard in many years. It sounds like an Apache war cry recorded on the backside of a mountain somewhere. It's the most indescribable record. I'd love to have written it. There's just two chords and the arrangement is quite unusual. It hit me first time round and I was listening to it over and over. Then I bought the album. The rest of the album is very tight harmony work. They sound like sons of the Beach Boys. It's encouraging to hear a young band sound that good. It's purist. It's where the Fleet Foxes are going. It's a lovely record. Primarily I find new music by people telling me about bands, but I like the Uncut and Mojo magazine sampler CDs – they've got a wealth of tracks by new bands, underground bands. That's where I heard 'Valient Brave'. When you're making a living out of music and writing, there's such a lot to learn from what's already been recorded. It'd take you a lifetime to appreciate what's been done. But it's great when something is out on its own and you hit on something new; when someone's hit on a pulse and it's not derivative. Very early Blur were really good and the first Supergrass EP was fabulous. That was the last time it got exciting for me. Damon [Albarn] gave me a cuddle at the Hootenanny recently and told me he loved me."

"I suppose this is another more upbeat song. I feel like I can remember it from one of those Best of the ‘80s compilations from when I was a teenager, but unlike a lot of the songs from that era, it has a lot of real lived experience and heart to it. “Although these songs are in chronological order, this had an influence on me when we were touring with Klaxons in 2007. At the end of the tour I stayed in New York to write on my own for a few weeks. I’d read that Mike Scott from The Waterboys was living on the East Side, and I would walk around that area every day listening to “The Whole of the Moon” hoping I’d bump into him. Which I never did, unfortunately. “I love the story behind this track. Essentially, one night Mike Scott had been out drinking and he met this girl. As he walked her back to her apartment, he told her he was a songwriter and she said “Well, then write me a song now.” He looked up at the sky and there was a half crescent of the moon, and he wrote the first half of this song on the walk home, just to impress this girl. I was so blown away by the romance of that. “I would sit on this bench at a dog park and think ‘How do I summon that greatness in a song.’ A few days before I flew home, I wrote “Two Doors Down”, sat on that bench in that dog park. And I feel I’ve got Mike Scott to thank for that."

"There are very few bands that I have more than two or three records by, and with Eno in particular I think everything that Brian Eno does best is on this record. I've tried to listen to other Eno records but I still get more from this one than from any of the others. There's just something about it. It's got this wonderful ramshackle element to it, but at the same time it's really experimental, and everything he does best is there. I remember listening to The Unforgettable Fire and the bits I listened to most were the bits that were obviously Eno overdubs or reflected his attitude coming through. And on that same tip it's already on Here Come The Warm Jets. Plus it's got some brilliant musicians playing on it. There's that classic guitar solo by Robert Fripp on 'Baby's On Fire'. Everybody stops talking when those 32 bars happen, or however long it is. And it moves from mood to mood. Every song on it has an atmosphere. 'Cindy Tells Me' is kind of flippant. You can imagine him writing that on a Sunday morning with a hangover, waking up in a stranger's apartment that happens to have a piano. Maybe he was thinking that Roxy was commercially successful - I wonder if I can be as well. And at the time he wasn't, of course: it was just, oh god, here's a weirdo record from that bloke that used to be in Roxy Music. But I think there are a lot of great pop tunes on there as well as it opening the door for a lot of experimentation."

"Basically, after that Ali Hussan Kuban revelation, I started searching high and low for as much of this music as I could possibly find. And then I started looking further. I started googling musicians in the Nile. For me, I found that it was only music from Nubia that had a certain thing about it. Arabic music, from further north, I love it and it's beautiful. I listen to a lot of that but it's more refined than Nubian music. That's not to say that Nubian music isn't sophisticated, but there's something a bit more direct about the Nubian stuff. A bit more punk-rock. I was looking for this music, and I found Mahmoud Fadl. There were these albums called Drummers of the Nile. It's slightly instructional in that they name a rhythm and then they play the rhythm. It's quite a journey through that whole type of music. This track 'Shofna Gamar', it's a pentatonic melody. Jimi Hendrix, the blues, R&B - a lot of stuff comes from pentatonic scales and it feels to me that these Nubian rhythms are the roots of our rhythmic appreciation. One of the big things in Melt Yourself Down was, if I take these ancient rhythms and just change the aesthetic of them so they sound modern, would it feel like modern music? It does. So I came to the conclusion that there's something in these rhythms that we really respond to and I think the same with pentatonic scales, I've always been really drawn to them. So 'Shofna Gamar' is an amazing way of making pentatonic scales feel really fresh, so joyful."

"I wasn't sure if I could pick Pixies as well as The Breeders, but fuck it! They're two different bands. I wanted to put this in here because seeing as this is the story of The Big Moon, as a band we have quite a broad range of music tastes. We all love bands and guitar music generally, but there are so many styles and it can go so many different ways. We all like a lot of the same bands but there aren't that many songs where we have that special cross-over moment and we find a song that we all adore. In the van, whoever’s driving gets to play whatever they want. Quite soon after we formed as a band we went round to Fern's house to try and think of a band name. We had this great night where we got really drunk and danced to Tom Jones. I seem to remember making quite a lot of mess, spilling drinks and stuff. It was just four girls getting very drunk together. We all realised that we loved this song and someone put it on the playlist. We were thinking about calling our band No Aloha after that, for about a week. We even wrote it in big letters on Fern's bedroom wall. We thought it'd be a really cool name, but then in the end we thought it'd be a bit of a mouthful to say on stage - "Hi, We're No Aloha!" - and we didn't want a lifetime of spelling it to people. But whenever it comes on in the van we're always like "yaaaay"!"

"I didn't really grow up listening to Buju, I kinda got into him a couple years ago, I would say. But soundsystem culture is interesting in that respect, same with soca, same with some of grime, a lot of dancehall, where you’ll go into a party and you’ll know the tune but you don't know who it is. I’ve always had that kind of relationship with Buju. When I really started going through his discography was the same time I got into Count Ossie and The Mystic Revelation and listened to a lot of Nyabinghi - spiritual music that’s not for entertainment. Then later finding that this record was when he was converting to Rastafarianism, but when I listen to this tune it always stuck out to me because how do you sound like the deepest gunman in Kingston, but yet also like the poet. It's perfect man. I'm getting married later in the year and was telling my fiancée ‘You know I’m gonna walk down the aisle to some Buju?’ And even she’s like I can’t really say you’re wrong. We get it as well, if you’ve grown up in London soundsystem culture is so important, there's something you just get. It feels like you’re listening to Kano or Dizzee cos they’re borrowing from it. That album just has a sound, it's really emotive, when you listen to it you feel everything, you know. Whether it's the way he's recorded the guitar or the choice of mic, it all adds to that sound world. It’s more than music - that was really influential to me, I would say."

"I didn't give them the time of day until I was probably in my thirties. I've learnt that a lot of the records that you love are things that you grew up with and really excited you when you were a kid. But there a few things that creep in later on, when you realise the greatness. I could've put in Bridge Over Troubled Water, but I didn't at the last minute, because the back end of that record doesn't do as much for me. Whereas the clunkily-titled Parsley, Sage, Rosemary And Thyme has got a lot of more of the tunes from them - I mean I just really love Simon And Garfunkel, I couldn't quite pin down the album that I wanted to put in. I think this is the one with most of the songs on it that I love. I'm generally quite a contrary person and I don't like to be told what I like. There's always people telling me "oh, you've got to hear this, it's really great and you'll love it". It's like, "How the hell do you know what I will love?" Music is such a personal thing, you can't tell other people what they will like and what they will love. People have given me things that they think I will love and I've just thrown them out the window of my car I've hated them so much. But this is the exception that proves the rule. I think my favourite is 'Feelin' Groovy' - I could say one of the more arty ones, but I like that one the best [laughs]!"