"Definitely my favourite song on that record [Yeezus]. I think it's a great record, if you can get past the ""bitches"" and what's that about Chinese pussy? Kanye, fucking grow up man, you're not 15. I was talking to Michael Azerrad, 'cause he's got me to do a couple of podcasts for him. And his clever little thing is to get musicians to review other albums. In conversation, I mentioned this track, and he said he got Lou Reed to write about the record. He said Lou Reed was in tears listening to this track. It's a very emotional track and it's very clever. He switches between making jokes and sounding very desperate indeed. One minute he's being very flippant, and I guess it's like being drunk and not drunk. The drink and the comedown, the hangover, whatever. Really beautiful, but also powerful, and quite punk in a way. And the arrangement is so clever and unexpected and unusual. He'll give you one thing and then give you something quite different, but it all works from section to section. I heard this while I was making What Happens Next and I was really impressed with the synth bass sounds, so I ended up having Thomas [McNeice] in, and we worked out where there would be a mixture of his bass playing and some electronic bass. You know, Lou Reed's point is that Kanye is demonstrating what he can get away with, which is good. I think there's quite a few ""I can do what I like moments"", including talking about ""sweet and sour pussy"" [sic]."

"When you listen to a song a lot, it becomes more and more difficult for it to surprise you. But this song is perfectly structured in a way where it overtakes itself. It’s from Roxy Music’s self-titled album from 1972, and it starts out almost hokey, like it’s giving a nod to honky-tonk music. Then the guitar line comes in, and it’s like a fuck-you to the rest of the song. And then Bryan Ferry’s vocals completely change. It becomes so plaintive and emotional. It’s about this intrusion upon one’s own story, which I love. When the song inserts a new sonic quality upon itself, it jars me from whatever I’m doing. I spend so much time trying to remind myself to be present, and this song acts as an aural reminder to do that. I use it almost as a form of meditation. And it’s what I want from music to begin with: It renders me stupid and rudderless, and then it rebuilds an anchor out of notes and melody. It’s like a continual reminder to do that in my life. When I’m busy, listening to the same songs and artists over and over is a way of simplifying my life. I tend to wear the same clothing, everything becomes ritualized. Obviously there are so many new musicians that we can tune in to every day, but I also love finding a new appreciation for those who already exist. Because that’s what our world is: We build upon what’s already there. And I like unearthing as much as I like moving forward."

"I used to have a studio in Brondesbury Villas up in Kilburn and there was a little book shop that I used to go to and one day they were playing this record. I think she is one of the great musicians alive at the moment; she plays bass but she plays it with such ferocity. She's a very interesting person to work with because she doesn't think at all in terms of chords or anything. You just play a track to her and she just starts to do something. She comes up with the most amazing riffs that are just completely unlike anything anyone would think of doing. The go-go scene she came out of was a particular approach to rhythm, and it's very contained. It's not at all splashy. It's all about really intricate, tight and accurate rhythm. I was in Montreux in 1995, I was working with David [Bowie] on that album, Outside, and the festival was on. I heard this music coming from the festival place and I thought, ""Wow, what is that?"", and it was her with her seven-piece band, who were the meanest looking people you've ever seen. This giant on the drums, two guitar players with these kind of slitty shades playing the meanest funk guitar. It was the probably the best show I ever saw. I was shivering with excitement. It's so harmonically dangerous. It's so strange what the instruments are playing. If you heard them in the abstract you'd think you could never put these together into a song. They're off on their own trips and somehow they just cohere together."

"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 went to see them play at the Orchid Ballroom in Purley when they were at the height of their chart success. I always loved Noddy Holder's voice, and they weren't super musicians but Don Powell was a really clever drummer. The parts he'd play were always not what you'd expect to be going on with that song. He always found another way of doing it which was always really cool. Jimmy Lea was always such a great bass player as well, and carried the whole thing. I could take or leave Dave Hill's guitar playing, but at the same time the way Dave Hill plays guitar is very punk in a way. It's very minimalist, very Chuck Berry, with lots of Ernie-Ernie Ernie, you know. He's playing the dynamics rather than the notes. And I went to see them at the Orchid Ballroom in Purley and it was one of the best gigs I've ever been to. It was absolutely infectious. As soon as they started playing it was like you're going to have a good time whether you like it or not. I don't care if you think we're unfashionable, you're still going to enjoy it, which was what happened. And that was the tour that they made that album from. It was the same set: I remember them playing 'Born To Be Wild' and all of those tunes. It was one of those moments, and that album sounds the way I remember that gig. I'm sure there are a few overdubs on there somewhere, but I watched them play that show. Dave Hill threw glitter in my eyes. How could I not have a copy?"

"Growing up in America in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s every Sunday evening there was The Walt Disney Hour on TV and before they played whatever Walt Disney movie or animation that was on, they would always begin with ‘When You Wish Upon a Star.’ This was probably the first embedding of music into your DNA outside of something that your parents might listen to on the radio, this was something that was wholly your own, because this was children’s music. “Your parents would plop you down in front of the television set on a Sunday night and this was your hour of music basically, so for myself, Grasshopper and a number of other people this otherworldly song was really the first music that informed you. Whatever music was to come in your life, this was the first information that was literally downloaded into your bloodstream. “Early on in Mercury Rev we were using feedback and Grasshopper was using guitar elements, because we’d yet to learn how to score orchestrally ourselves, we were just too young. Yerself is Steam was our early attempt at orchestrating but we were using feedback and noise and basically any note we could grab on the fretboard or the piano, because we weren’t really accomplished rock musicians. Like everyone, when you begin you sort of fumble around. “The idea of the layering and the dynamics that are in some of those very early Disney movies, such as Fantasia or Pinocchio was definitely in our consciousness. It was definitely one of the few things we could lean on as teenagers."

"I found out about the Cardiacs and discovered A Little Man And A House And The Whole World Window and On Land And In The Sea simultaneously. They’re very hard to find now, the CDs are going for upwards of 60 or 70 quid on eBay. It’s progressive music, but done in a really mental way. It sounds like one guy’s mind being acted out by some willing and accomplished musicians. It’s really insane. There are loads of tempo changes. I think Tim Smith’s voice sounds a little like Robert Smith, but in a much more manic way. I think that’s what really speaks to me [laughs]. It’s almost like what progressive rock is made for. You expect progressive rock to be manic. The production sounds a little bit more like a real band on On Land And In The Sea, but on A Little Man And A House And The Whole World Window there’s a song on it called ‘R.E.S.’ which is just seven minutes of strange music. It’s like 60s easy listening music but it’s still definitely prog. I was criticised once actually. We did a trip into the rain forest in Costa Rica last year and I DJed it, and afterwards everyone was like, “yeah that was great… maybe too much Cardiacs though.” It’s a floor filler, but a floor emptier as well – and it’s hard to know where the threshold is! On those albums there are a lot of people called Smith, and I’m not sure whether they’re brothers or cousins or aunties or whatever, but there’s a saxophonist, bassist, guitarist, keys, and it’s all very symphonic. More symphonic than you’d expect."