"I think that when this came out I put it in my car and didn’t take it off for six months. Honestly I think this record, at least for me, was one of the influences on us making that first Garbage record. I loved how they reinvented themselves; how they started flirting with electronics and fuzz and beeps and industrial noise yet made these amazing songs. They stirred it all up, threw it against the wall and spat it all out. They redefined themselves and it resulted in what I think is their finest work. At the time I think a lot of people couldn't quite get their head around it and then they went out and did that massive Zoo TV tour, which was quite a sensory experience. You could see that the band were almost making fun of themselves: there's almost a self-deprecation in there, telling us how they were approaching themselves. There's some gritty humour in the songs, I think. We (Garbage) were thrilled to be asked last year to a do a cover of 'Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses' as all of us absolute love that record. When we tried sounding like U2 it didn't work. We needed it to sound like Garbage so, much like U2, we had to sort of reinvent ourselves and take a different slant on it to give it something that we felt comfortable with, which ended up being a whole heap of fun to do! We stripped the verses down and we're all pretty pleased as to how it turned out as we were honoured to have been asked to have been involved. Bono sent us a note and it was lovely; I can't remember exactly what he said but it was something about the way Shirley sang the verses and the bridge making him feel like a peeping Tom. He obviously listened to the track and he got where we were going with it. It was an awesome note."

"Bowie was so important when we were growing up in terms of the way he chose different directions and that that was an acceptable thing to be doing. You'd just be getting into one thing and then he'd turn into the Thin White Duke or something and he'd invite you to twist your head around that. And when Low came out it was like, ""Whoah!"" because it was a complete head twister in terms of how the record sounded, and how Bowie removed himself from the music because there's hardly any upfront Bowie on it. I've always liked instrumental stuff – things like The Shadows and The Tornados' 'Telstar' and those kinds of things – and it's reflected in the music of 808 State, which draws from that kind of thing where melody is the central thing. But the instrumentals on Low almost sound like backing tracks and that's quite confusing. And it was beatless, and that took you to another place. Plus, it was also the record when I first fell in love. There's that theory of your first love record, where it soundtracks your summer and Low is that record. That kind of music and that hormonal rush creates a kind of nostalgia that's deeper than other records. The fact that Brian Eno is on it, when I first started making music, gave me a bit of elbow-room. With the musicians around now, there's a lot of technique, but technique isn't the key to everything. This idea of being a non-musician and using noise as your instrument defined me quite early on; the School of Eno was in me! Even though it was recorded in 1976 and released in 1977, in some ways this is the first post-punk record. This certainly coalesces with PiL's first album, and it they both gave rise to the notion that not everything proggy should be thrown out with the bathwater."

"Again, Jesse turned me onto that record, years ago. We revisited that when we were in the desert at Rancho De La Luna, we were playing lots of good stuff on YouTube through the mixing board. The house was so cool. David Catching, who lives there, he was out on tour - great guy, but we had the whole house to ourselves. Just that record - throw it on in the daytime and then the sun starts coming and you're in this chill house and you're just cranking this record and then eventually when the sun starts going down, that's just super psychedelic. It was a good companion piece. That record has Leon Thomas singing ""the creator has a master plan"" over and over again. Never thought about this at the time, but repeating lines in a spiritual way - there's a title track to b'lieve i'm goin down…, which isn't on the album, which is just the same line over and over again - something about that spiritual vibe. Eventually Leon Thomas just does this spiritual yodelling! The record's so melodic. Pharoah Sanders does this cool thing - it's like pop, but it's like spiritual pop, mixed with jazz, where it's a relatively simple line, just a couple of chords, usually. It just puts you in this zone, it's so beautiful. It's simple, but not at all; nobody could touch it. Pharoah Sanders comes in eventually and plays the sweetest emotional sax and eventually it turns into insanity, noise, skronking and screeching. Honestly, he's known for that, but it's my least favourite part of him. I understand why he does it, because it reaches this climax and then all of a sudden, you come out and go back to this thing and it just goes all the way to the limit; it's just like life, it goes from zero to 60 and then you come back out of it. That's the beauty of him."