"This series of pieces by Florian Hecker is great. The 30 minute modular synth piece in the book ended by the vocal pieces is a really amazing. I could listen to this piece as one whole composition – I don't actually know his mode of operation, but it works great as a collection. As a modular synth and electronic music guy, the middle movement is just masterful. And he's such an interesting guy, so again, very personalised as far as the way that he works. I don't know at all about what he thinks. In a lot of ways theoretically he's quite impenetrable, I don't know where he's coming from in some instances. He definitely excites me. A lot of his stuff is heavily theoretical. Like the Joan le Barbara movement in the beginning with the voice – it's like the reciting of these philosophical truths or something. And in a way, I would ask him, “Am I supposed to be digesting all of this information or am I supposed to be just letting it wash over me?” That's how I appreciate it."

"I saw Blue for the first time when I was in film school. I checked out a VHS tape from the library and watched it on a twelve-inch TV/VCR. The movie finished and I sat staring at the dark screen while the tape auto-rewound. When it reached the beginning, I pressed “Play” and watched it a second time. When it stopped the second time, I turned everything off, went to bed, and stared at the ceiling. A week or so later, I finished the trilogy and thought, If these are called movies, we need a new name for everything else. I’ve never seen music sewn through film so deeply, as if the actors were thinking the soundtrack while they were acting. However he did it, Kieślowski caught the chaos of being human without the mania (for instance, the elderly woman carefully disposing of recyclables). His films are life-affirming for the jaded—they are the smartest and sexiest of unintentionally philosophical films, never talking down or forgetting to entertain. And the ending of Red—well, isn’t that the ending of everything?"

"I saw Blue for the first time when I was in film school. I checked out a VHS tape from the library and watched it on a twelve-inch TV/VCR. The movie finished and I sat staring at the dark screen while the tape auto-rewound. When it reached the beginning, I pressed “Play” and watched it a second time. When it stopped the second time, I turned everything off, went to bed, and stared at the ceiling. A week or so later, I finished the trilogy and thought, If these are called movies, we need a new name for everything else. I’ve never seen music sewn through film so deeply, as if the actors were thinking the soundtrack while they were acting. However he did it, Kieślowski caught the chaos of being human without the mania (for instance, the elderly woman carefully disposing of recyclables). His films are life-affirming for the jaded—they are the smartest and sexiest of unintentionally philosophical films, never talking down or forgetting to entertain. And the ending of Red—well, isn’t that the ending of everything?"

"I saw Blue for the first time when I was in film school. I checked out a VHS tape from the library and watched it on a twelve-inch TV/VCR. The movie finished and I sat staring at the dark screen while the tape auto-rewound. When it reached the beginning, I pressed “Play” and watched it a second time. When it stopped the second time, I turned everything off, went to bed, and stared at the ceiling. A week or so later, I finished the trilogy and thought, If these are called movies, we need a new name for everything else. I’ve never seen music sewn through film so deeply, as if the actors were thinking the soundtrack while they were acting. However he did it, Kieślowski caught the chaos of being human without the mania (for instance, the elderly woman carefully disposing of recyclables). His films are life-affirming for the jaded—they are the smartest and sexiest of unintentionally philosophical films, never talking down or forgetting to entertain. And the ending of Red—well, isn’t that the ending of everything?"

"I'd never heard of Connie Converse before I saw Anna & Elizabeth – this amazing American duo – singing one of her songs, Father Neptune. I'm always drawn to sea shanties, but I remember thinking, wow, where does this come from? Her songs felt very different to me, but also familiar – I like to think it's me. ‘One By One' is about a woman walking in the dark, and it's heartbreaking, but so beautiful. ‘Trouble Man In The Sky' is about her falling in love with Orion, and it all going wrong. Even in her humorous and philosophical moments there's an underlying sadness, which for a folk singer is very attractive [laughs]. And then she left home one day, left her family a letter, saying, I'm going, just let me be. So ambiguous. Then she wasn't heard of again. But even before that, he's a fascinating songwriter. Her songs reminded me of Molly Drake's. They're so unusual, but so human. And I'm not a songwriter, I'm a singer, so I'm always about finding songs to sing. Ones full of intelligence, humour and melancholy that feel a bit apart, they always speak to me.
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