"I've been a fan of his since the start, when I heard ‘Didgeridoo'... At our age it was an interesting time, because it was the start of dance culture as we know it, but also I was young enough when I first heard it that I didn't differentiate between hearing a Mary Chain song or hearing an Orb song or a KLF song or a Loop song. I guess of all the bands or musicians that I heard around that first wave of electronic music, I think Richard James is the guy that's continued and kept a high standard and evolved what he did. I mean, that Richard D James record, if you went and listened to half of the brand new IDM vomit they'd be shitty copies of that. What makes his music is so special is that as well as being amazing at concocting interesting sounds and rhythms, he's also musically always doing something brilliant. The piano songs on the Drukqs album are unbelievable. Talking about that, it's completely irrelevant to this, but the most annoyed I've ever got at a music review is the review of Drukqs in Uncut where the journalist said there's no point in making solo piano music because you'd never do anything as good as Satie or Chopin. Well let's just fucking go home then! But anyway. To be able to marry the playfulness with the beauty and the melancholic element, that's just incredible."

"This is extremely gloomy music, but an absolutely brilliant album. I first heard it in the 80s. It was the kind of thing I always listened to at the end of the day, when you're a bit pissed and in bed and have probably smoked a bit more weed than you should have done. It's such a powerful record. It's got so many different moods in it and it takes you from melancholy to sheer triumph, in a way. The journey along the way, and the performance of Mark Hollis, is so moving, and I think the other musicians on board have great empathy for that and it all fits into place. It really does sound like they were all sat in the studio and said okay, we're all really good at this, let's do something that makes that obvious. And I think it does. I knew Ed Hollis, Mark Hollis's brother, because he came in and produced 'Love Song' for The Damned. And of course we knew him because he was the manager of Eddie & The Hot Rods, so we were already in the loop. But I didn't really bother with Talk Talk until this record came out and someone said have you heard this? And it just immediately resonated. I thought oh, I like this; I want more of it. Now I find I have to be in the right mood to listen to it; reflective, you might say."

"The third choice is a song from Boston, from the band Boston, called "Peace of Mind". And it’s not my all-time favorite song. It’s just one day many years ago, I was in the garage of my apartment, wrenching on my pickup truck, one Sunday night. And there used to be a popular syndicated show, I think it was called Rock Line, and they would get these musicians on and they would talk about their music and their songs. Not too much differently from what we’re doing now. And they had the guy from Boston on, and they said, "What is 'Peace of Mind?' What was that song about?" And the guy said, "I had a good job. I worked for IBM. I had things. You know, I had medical and dental, but I didn’t have peace of mind. I wanted to play music. So I quit my job, and I started this band. And I threw all caution to the wind, and I decided to roll the dice, and give it a try." I was sitting in my garage, when I was like 23, working on my pickup truck thinking, “Do I want to do construction forever? Or maybe I want to give comedy a try.” And it was sort of at that moment, I decided to do comedy. Now, I didn’t make a nickel for the next decade, but at a certain point it worked out."

"In 1962/3 German promoters Fritz Rau and Horst Lippmann booked a number of American blues and jazz artists to come over to tour Europe [The American Folk Blues Festival]. It was kind of the first time these blues musicians weren’t playing places like the south side of Chicago for $25 a night. They were playing in Europe’s finest concert halls to an audience that listened spellbound to every nuance and every word of a language they didn’t understand, from a people whose colour they didn’t understand and whose musical history they didn’t understand. They were enraptured by the emotion and individuality of these different blues musicians. So as a 16-year-old I went to the Manchester Free Trade Hall to see one of these shows, and one of the characters who stood out for me was J.B. Lenoir. He was alone on stage with an acoustic guitar and sang songs in this amazing bell-like high tenor that was quite unlike most of his compatriots, and he made a great impact on me. In the same year I heard him singing ‘Alabama Blues’ and was later given by Rau an album they recorded with Lenoir of the same name, repackaged and remarketed today as Passionate Blues. ‘Alabama Blues’ was the album’s key track, a very brave song for a black man to sing in 1963, with the race riots, lynch mobs, bombs and brutality. Almost the only clarion voice of protest and political awareness I was aware of was J.B. Lenoir. He sang about Vietnam, he sang about the wars in the street, he sang about police and the lynch mobs, and he did so in a very articulate and responsible way – he wasn’t a rabble-rouser. He reflected what was going on and how it impacted on him and his life, if not in an uncomplaining way, certainly not in a vitriolic way. When we think about it these are perfect sentiments for the blues. I heard some really rather tiresome man on breakfast television this morning, Michael Buble I think it was, talking about his latest single. He took great pains to explain how it was about the break-up of a relationship and said, “all my songs are about being in love or out of love, that’s what I do.” I thought to myself: “How incredibly interesting. Not.” How incredibly dull and boring, but it’s the stuff of so much. Shakespeare’s sonnets probably should have got it out of the system for planet earth and its population for all time. I don’t have a problem with a good love song but very few of them are, they’re really incredibly trite and employ the same tiresome, limiting vocabulary and expressions. It’s almost as if people’s brains can only go as far as their gonads. J.B. Lenoir proved that you can be passionate about the lynchings in Alabama. That’s the stuff we need to know about and blues, simple and direct and emotionless as it is, is the perfect form for that."

"It’s early 70s, with the Master Musicians of Joujouka. That’s partly why I chose it, because they’re on a couple of tracks. That record is one of the earliest jazz records I found myself listening to a lot. Somebody handed it to me and I was really impressed by it. I didn’t know anything about these Joujouka guys at that point except for the fact that their name always came up in relationship to the Rolling Stones and Brian Jones. At that point I don’t think I’d even heard of that Pipes of Pan At Jajouka record that Brian Jones recorded but I started to get really interested into Dancing In Your Head. Ornette went to Morocco with this music critic named Robert Palmer. Palmer was a really important music writer and I’d read some of his stuff, so when I saw his name on the back of that record I was even further intrigued. It was a kind of an early avenue into free jazz for me, because this record led me to Miles and to Coltrane and to Thelonious Monk and Albert Ayler and all this other stuff. I think probably at the same time I was also listening to African “world music” as they called it later, and a lot of Gamelan was really important to me. I was looking for world music that I felt I could find stuff in, that could inform my interest in rock & roll and certainly the Gamelan music had a lot of that just because it was metallic and loud and it had these furious beats and Dancing In Your Head did too because it was really drone-y in ways that reminded me of the Velvet Underground and was also really loud. It also tied directly with jazz music because The Master Musicians of Jajouka playing those rhaitas were circular breathing in the way the jazz players were, just going around, you never felt like the music broke for breath. They were just going around in this endless loop, which also tied it in with my interest in tape music and tape loops and things like that. It wasn’t really until I went there and played with these guys in the 90s – we went to the village and spent a couple of days there and kind of played all night long with them – they had a cheap generator and an electric guitar – I could see that it was loud and kind of stomping in a way that related to rock & roll but it also had this circular trance-y thing where you started to lose track of time. Had it been going on for ten minutes or forty minutes or whatever it was? It had a very druggy quality with or without the drugs. There was just something about Ornette Coleman and when I heard this record I felt like I was hearing someone who was a great force. He did all these amazing ground breaking records and it opened up the whole world of jazz for me."

"It was 1991/2 when the Spin Doctors had their relatively brief moment of huge fame, and their first album went triple platinum. I actually first saw them on The David Letterman Show in the early days of that, and was intrigued by the bouncy, very New York, educated and musicianly sound of the band, who were clearly great players. They were very much a product of that era when very good, very musically aware, very elegant musicians got together to make very direct rock music in a way that sounded so fresh and unlike the other stuff that was going on. They were musos, not a bunch of kids in a garage. They were guys who really knew about time signatures, rhythms and arrangements and had great ability with their instruments. And the singer, Chris Barron, brought a freshness in delivery that worked extremely well on The David Letterman Show and in the few videos they did at the time. I actually went to see them live in the UK and I met them, at the Wolverhampton Civic Hall or somewhere. The guitar player was a very charming guy, a bit of a fan and very pleased I came to the gig and went backstage to say hi, whereas the bass player and drummer gave me the cold shoulder, as if I was from a previous generation, like an earlier episode of Star Trek. For basically a three-piece with a singer they made a very cohesive noise."

"This was a great time for Iggy Pop. He'd been through a lot but this particular time period, things really seemed to work for him. And I like the exploration of early synths here as well. You've got a song like 'The Endless Sea' which has the over-loud synths. I'd have turned them down a little bit but it's great because it's really in-your-face and you can really hear the excitement of the guys getting hold of a Moog. There's an innocence here coupled with an early discovery of stuff. And this album is more about the songs. I don't know if it's a case of something being overplayed but I much prefer listening to this than say, 'The Passenger' or 'Lust For Life'. Maybe it's because those songs are always on and they're just overplayed - and they are brilliant and amazing songs - but there's a tightness about New Values, especially in the drum sound. They've obviously come back from Hansa and the open room, which is a sound that people have tried to emulate over the years, to do something different. Certainly when you look at albums like this, Horses and Marquee Moon, Supergrass were really trying to channel that '75-'79 period and that edgy punkiness but with elements of sophistication. I bought a Telecaster Deluxe guitar in the late 90s and I was really chuffed to get it because it was probably played by one of those musicians from that time period."

"I discovered him at university when I was 20. The first thing I ever heard was 'Come Out' which has a sampled voice that just keeps saying "blood, come out" and it just keeps beating, so this was Steve Reich's very early tape phase experiments where he stuck it on two tapes and would press play at the same time and they start off together and then gradually start to move apart. First of all you get an echo on the vocal, and then as the two vocals move away it starts to kind of [imitates the sound], and it's so trippy it's amazing. I feel like it's the earliest rap or something, it’s got this really amazing sample, this guy who's street, the way he's talking - his accent's amazing and authentic, and then you just have like the rhythm that's created through words. Percussiveness and then there's ... syncopation starts happening and it's constantly evolving, moving, different rhythms, and that's basically his thing. 'Come Out' inspired me when I was at uni. I made a tape and slide piece, which is this projected piece that you animate using different slides. [Reich]'s using really graphic, violent imagery and I got a little boy to talk about fights at school, he was like six! I was asking how he felt about the fighting, has anyone ever tried to punch him, how does it feel? And I put his voice along with all these images of men fighting, and I phased it and did weird things to it, laid them all on top of each other, just experimenting in my own way with that. But that really inspired me and I started to delve more into Steve Reich. There are some preachers which he did tape phase experiments with, like "it's gonna raiiiiin, it's gonna rain!", such a musicality to what he's doing even though what he was doing was very conceptual. Again, it was a very rigid, composer-y thing to do, which is to set up a tape experiment, but within that he chose words and expressions that are really emotional and move through all different phases, making you think about all sorts of things and culturally, politically, there's a lot behind it. And then on this [Works] there's 'Music for 18 Musicians' which I absolutely love. Eighteen musicians would sit round, play their rhythm and then the next person would start a fraction of a second after them so they'd be in sync sometimes all playing the same thing but with a slightly different time part, so it totally fucked your brain. But the sounds that come out: you get all these weird intervals, syncopations, harmonies, rhythmic counterparts that are happening but the key that he chooses is heartbreaking and amazing as well. There are certain notes and harmonies, certain two notes will just start to really vibrate together and it just starts to create an amazing cinematic, filmic burst of ideas in my mind. It's almost like meditation or mantras, Ravi Shankar or something for me, Reich has done a similar thing. Like it just keeps on going round and round and then you get drones and then other drones come in and then they create textures that are moving all the time, so it's almost like a meditative state that you get into."