"I remember becoming aware of them when I was living in London in '94 when His 'N' Hers came out and thinking: "That's a good band". Actually, I think it was in Select, the one that had Brett Anderson on the front cover draped in the Union Jack and it was like the "new British pop", it was quite a classic issue, and they had a little paragraph at the bottom: "...oh, and Pulp are quite good too" and it was Jarvis sitting on a deck chair. And I thought "hmm", his whole image made sense to me, so I was more open to buying His 'N' Hers and thinking "that's a very good record". Then we were recording Casanova in a place called Moles in Bath, and Moles had a club underneath it and we'd go and drink in the club after a session, and 'Common People', the first time I heard it, was when it came on the enormous PA, it was very loud that room, I thought: "What the fuck is this?" It's one of the greatest pop songs of all time, it's so well-written and it's got such an arc, such a trajectory, a real energy. So that's where I thought "I'm desperate to hear the rest of that album", but also thought "I'm quite shocked and appalled that somebody else is making the music that I want to make myself"! So, yeah, I bought that album and thought, "yes, it really is a different class!" I was pretty scared of him when I interviewed him [for Les Inrockuptibles in 1994] - he was older than me and much, much taller! The first time we did the photo shoot, he turned up in his usual wonderful attire, for some reason, I was having a bit of brain fart that day and I put on this crappy old Barbour jacket coat, which had probably been worn by many many tramps before me. As a result, we did a few photos and then they told us to go away and come back another time and do the photo shoot properly, with Neil dressed as he ought to be. It was quite humiliating! I heard through a mutual friend later that Jarvis had said, "You've got to live it". That always stuck in my head and I thought "well, what does he mean by that?" I suppose if you're going to dress well for photographs, you've got to dress well the rest of the time as well, just be that person. Which I agreed with to an extent, but when you become a parent and have an ordinary life, you cease to dress well, which is a rather down-trodden middle-aged man! I've met him once or twice since very fleetingly in a couple of places. The funny thing is, we were both writing for the same Charlotte Gainsbourg album [5:55] back in the middle part of the last decade. I wrote an awful lot of lyrics and when I had kind of given up because I didn't know what they wanted anymore, they got Jarvis in to finish the job, and sure enough he did some wonderful things on that record. What I like about him is that he doesn't filter himself as much as I or other people would, he lets the stark stuff out, and he's not afraid of it, which I would be, being repressed!"

"Berlin, for me, is one of the most complete albums. It incorporates and encapsulates everything I love about albums and music, which for me is it being like a film that plays out in your mind. There's a sort of cinematic aspect to the whole thing. It's storytelling in its darkest and most beautiful form, it takes you through a relationship from the beginning to the end and you get invested in characters and people that are inhabiting the scenery that Lou Reed's talking about. You feel pain, in the end, when it's: "They're taking her children away / Because they said she was not a good mother". Those lyrics, and "this is the place our children were conceived / Candles lit the room brightly at night" and "this is the place where she cut her wrists / That odd and fateful night". It's just like, fuck me, who actually talks about that stuff any more? Who's brave enough to believe in the album as a whole? Because you take out any of those songs, and they're fantastic songs, but the whole point is it's a novel, and you have to invest in listening to the lyrics and absorbing the atmosphere and going with it the whole way through to really get that fucking hit at the end, where you're just devastated. The full entity, that's the album I wish I'd made. My boyfriend for seven years, when I was 18 to 25, was obsessed with Lou Reed and we saw him loads of times. He probably played it to me quite early on, maybe when I was 19 or 20, but I think I actually got obsessed with it on my own around 23, and just listened to it over and over again. And then luckily, it got brought back live and he toured it with the full children's choir and bloody string section in his band. It was such a treat to see that. In 'The Kids', they put all the samples of the children going "mummy!" and crying and banging on the door. Apparently they actually locked someone's kids in a room and recorded them, sobbing away. [laughs] Absolute bastard, you know, but what have you got to do for the arts? That really struck me at the time, thinking how much I love film and whenever I write music, I see it, in characters and colours and locations and places, and it's like they had, like lots of other people I suppose. There are so many songs by him that I love, but I wouldn't say there are any albums by him that I love the whole way through as much as this one. Obviously there's 'Satellite Of Love' and 'Perfect Day' and 'Walk On The Wild Side', which I think are fantastic pop songs because they've got grit - when I think about great songs that have darkness and grit and integrity, I think of Lou Reed and Kurt Cobain, and those are my two men that I reference. When I was writing 'Laura', I was like "okay, Lou", can I summon the spirit of Lou? Just to be able to talk brutally and honestly about a thing, but within a context of a song that people will remember. It's just in my DNA now, always with me, it's just part of me."

"I really like to do covers, but the idea of a children's choir doing such classic songs and interpreting them… In 'Space Oddity' there's 'ding!', one vibraphone hit that's totally out of time and a tambourine will go at the same moment and then there's "ground control to Major Tom", these little kids - you can imagine them being really stoic and really getting behind what they were singing and being so serious about it. And then there's little jangly guitars that are so 70s as well, you can almost hear the school wall. People would do anything now to record an album that sounded like it was in a 70s school, but that wasn't them trying to be cool, that was them being who they were and what they were doing. And then 'Desperado', there's a nine-year-old girl who sings, like the quietest voice I've ever heard, but they've mic'ed it up so well. I purposefully try sometimes to mic up my voice really quietly so it sounds like you're being told a secret. This little girl, her voice is shaking, but it's the most gentle sound - it's like when a little child reaches up and touches your face, that feeling of… it's called Innocence & Despair - they're absolute innocents, but they're also singing songs like 'Desperado' and "oh Mandy, you came and you gave without taking and I pushed away", but it's seven-, ten-, 12-year-olds singing. 'Space Oddity', the fact that that's about a spaceman just stuck out in space just drifting away, and they do make it sound quite psychedelic and eccentric and funny. And the shambolicness of it is so cool. What I like is that so many people try to do that, that faux-childishness, and this guy who was running it was obviously a passionate, avid music lover of that time, and persuaded the school and the parents to let these kids sing pop music, which then was pushing boundaries. It's beautiful. He [Hans Fenger, organiser/arranger of project] really managed to pull something together. I think it all comes down to the beauty of being not self-aware. They're aware, they're trying their best, but it's like the older you get I suppose the more you feel nostalgic about those times and that feeling. Picasso and Matisse and great artists have always been trying to get back to childhood. You get to a certain stage and you want to revisit, but trying to keep that childhood alive is almost the hardest thing, because you build up all these layers of self-awareness and what you want to project and how you want to do it. Even now when I watch Glee and all that shit, all these kids have got the dance routines down - I'm sad that there's no one being this shit anymore. You should be a bit shit when you're little, because that's the freedom. Having perfectly scaled voices, and projecting, and knowing how to communicate with your audience. It's just like, "really? Is that what it's about or is this what it's about?": a bunch of kids getting together, loving it and making mistakes and not caring and sounding a bit out of tune. "I'm going to play my vibraphone part, it's in the wrong place, but I loved it, I'm going to do it again!" Just one note, in the wrong place, amazing. You're playing David Bowie and you're seven, what more is there?"