"People who know my albums from ten years ago will have heard me trying to rip off Silver Apples. I think it was Kieran Hebden [Four Tet] who introduced me to their music. It's so remarkable - it doesn't sound like anything else that was happening at the time. This record was made before Can started recording - it was actually a toss-up between this or something from Can or NEU!, or something along these lines. If this record came out today people would still be flipping out over it. It still sounds like the sound of tomorrow to me, but it has those amazing folk melodies over the top of it. I guess most of my favourite music is both strange and familiar at the same time, and has some kind of melodic content you can hum along to and gets stuck in your head. The production and the musical ideas around it are totally otherworldly on this record. We booked Simeon for the ATP shows we curated a few years back, but I've never really read any interviews with him to try and find out how this happened - how they made a record that sounded like this in 1968. It didn't sound like anything else."

"This is track two on Beck’s Morning Phase, his ninth studio record, which I discovered after touring Radlands around America three times. I’d always appreciated Beck from a distance, but I never had an emotional connection to his music. I loved “Loser” and it was fun to spin him at an indie disco, but I didn’t have that real relationship with his music. But when this came out it blew my mind; it was such an incredible record. “It was written and recorded as a counterpart to Sea Change, his previous record. It used a lot of the same musicians and it was recorded in Nashville. It has that real blissed out, opioid induced country music feel to it - very floaty. To me, it really felt like it was his mid-life crisis record, the musical version of him buying a Bugatti and running off with his secretary. “Just like with King Crimson and Cass McCombs, Beck’s Morning Phase completely influenced Curve of the Earth and it gave us the sonic blueprint for that record. The blueprint was this woozy, washed out, ethereal, very spacious, widescreen feel. There are tinges of country there, but it’s more of a headphone stoner record."

"To say anything is my favourite album is a bit of a lie because I change my mind from hour to hour, but if I had to choose a desert island album it would be this. I have such a personal sentimental attachment to it because I used to watch that film with my dad, and when he died there was a video cassette left and I watched it a lot. It got me into drawing, and the music is the first musical experience I ever had when I wanted to figure out a song. I was only 6 or 7 but I wanted to figure that music out. I think it made me always prefer minor chords and gloomier sounds. Watching that film, I remember feeling like it was almost magical and also terrifying. It's quite a violent film, and sexual, it was quite overwhelming. I was terrified and excited at the same time. It was the start of a burst of creativity for me, it started me drawing and the first drawings I did were always these alien landscapes – like most young boys. I started drawing and playing music all because of that album. It wasn't until years later that I realised that this amazing score was by this guy Alain Goraguer."

"Oh my gosh, that was another pivotal moment. Queen – for me – is the most unique rock band in history. I love Deep Purple, Zeppelin and all those rock bands from that time but nobody sounded like Queen and nobody could sound remotely like that. There was a magic to them – almost like the band was blessed with something. That band was such a perfect storm because with Freddie Mercury, how could you even quantify his confidence? You couldn’t –it was boundless and he just expressed that constantly in the music. The way Brian May approached the guitar was absolutely unique. You can compare me to other guitar players, you can compare Page to other players but you can’t compare Brian May to anybody because his touch on the instrument had a life of its own and the way that he heard the songs and was able to apply this unbelievable touch to serve the song – as opposed to just saying ‘here’s a guitar solo’ –meant he was the sound of Queen. In fact everyone in that band was the sound of Queen. When ¬Queen II came out it was the most musical, aggressive rock record of that period, for me."

"T. Rex's Marc Bolan was my best mate's hero. I said I didn't like him, not because it was true but because he liked him. Not so long ago he bought me a pristine vinyl copy of Electric Warrior and again I was blown away, the sonic quality, the excitement. I still haven't told my friend that though. I was Pink Floyd, he was T. Rex, I was Simon & Garfunkel he was The Sweet... you see where I'm coming from. It was really sad when Marc Bolan died, who knows what he might have gone on to do. I saw him play in Southend, that was when we were in our teens. We'd go out to gigs, as much as we could afford. I lived in Basildon, and in Southend, which was close to us, there were quite a few good venues to see bands. I'd be surprised at things turning up. I remember seeing Generation X at a hotel ballroom, and that was really exciting, because we were kids and couldn't drink, officially. It was exotic and it was naughty. Southend has quite a musical history, with all the R&B stuff, Canvey Island and places like that, I think some of those clubs still exist, where you can see local bands and shit."

"I’ve been directing television for almost twenty-five years. In that time, one thing that I have learned for sure is that Douglas Sirk is the godfather of all dramatic television. It all comes from him. The best of television is redolent with his sense of ironic and knowing melodrama. He piles on the conflict in each and every scene. Bad things and disappointment stalk his characters, but always with style. The first ten minutes of Written on the Wind are literally drunk with this style. Robert Stack drinking from the bottle in an intensely yellow sports car, hundreds of leaves that blow through a Texas mansion, pages of a calendar that flip through time, and, above all else, Dorothy Malone. Nobody mambos like Malone: the sequence where she drunkenly mambos in her room while her father dies of a heart attack is choreographed for the camera like a Minnelli musical. Sirk blocks a scene with such dynamism and artfulness you can turn off the sound and know exactly what’s going on. All That Heaven Allows got me into Sirk, but Written on the Wind is the poster on my office wall—it’s a touchstone, a timeless piece of popular art."

"This is a weird one. That was in my parent's record collection. They had a few records, but that was one that we would listen to a lot as kids. It's very appealing to children. It's kind of like a musical Monty Python, but a lot better in my opinion! They had this really stupid, silly, strange music that was a lot better than it should have been. You often get that when a comedian makes music, you can sort of tell that actually the music underneath is really good. Lots of their humour is derived from the fact that the music is played really badly, and it was sort of shit and sort of funny! That source of amusement has followed me my whole life. I'm much happier trawling YouTube for awful music than I am looking for the hottest new good band. I almost spend more time listening to awful music. Not just because I find it funny but because I find things in it that a professional would never think of, and that is sometimes all you want to hear, something that you've never heard before. I think a lot of humour is relayed in my music directly from the Bonzos."