"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."

"That one was quite deep for me because again, growing up in church and being a believer; my family being from the West Indies - my mum’s side from Jamaica, my dad’s side from Dominica - I remember going to church and it was authentic West Indians there in their 40s, 50s that now live in the UK but have kept these traditions, they were singing these songs just without the drums. So when I first heard this, something just went - ‘Hang on?’ I remember being four and hearing this person sing that song but swap Selassie for this or that. It had that same spiritual element I was so used to, just in a very different form. It was like a weird full circle thing for me. It was almost like going back home. These drums are taking me somewhere, but also I'm being carried by these songs I know. It was beautiful to check out more of what Count Ossie was doing and people that were part of his band like Cedric Brooks. He was infusing a lot of the jazz elements that he's hearing from Coltrane or Ornette Coleman. That's deep, you’re deep in the heels of Kingston, aware of Ornette and them man. Like Duke Ellington had to come and visit him, you know, there’s a photo of him and Duke Ellington in the bush. You know he's got something that's important, not only important for culture but it's spiritually important for the Nyabinghi tradition. For me when I heard that record, particularly Grounation, where they’re going through loops for 20 minutes, it’s that thing again with soundsystems where you ‘wheel up a riddim’ or at church when the tune would just keep going. It was something I’d never heard but I also felt like it wasn’t foreign, those experiences are so wicked and that influenced the whole fascination with drum culture and drum languages, spirituality connected to drums, music orientated around the drums. I got into Batá and music for the Orishas and things that are all over the Diaspora in West Africa, the Caribbean, South America. And when you listen to it, the recording’s so rags but it just couldn't work if you put it in Abbey Road. It gave me a bit more confidence when I was doing my record that if I go to someone’s house and I show up with a handheld recorder, as long as it feels right it doesn't matter. Big studio, small studio, my phone as long as it’s got that feeling that I was going for."