"The Blue Nile are masters of the slow build, and Over The Hillside is a prime example. A lot of their songs make me cry, but this one in particular has this sense of hope and patience that becomes almost unbearably beautiful when Paul Buchanan sings, "Tomorrow I will be there / Just you wait and see." It almost sounds as if he's about to die and is singing to heaven...but heaven is a place on earth, after all."

"This is off the back of Faust IV being my all-time favourite record. Fille Qui Mousse translates to 'Girl Foam' which is the best name for a project. I found this, again, about a year-and-a-half ago when we were trying to buy records for the apartment. I was in a record shop called Permanent Records in Eagle Rock [in Los Angeles]. I sometimes struggle going to record shops as they are often overwhelming, but in Permanent Records everything was in its right place and the staff would write little notes on the records. There was a sticker that said, ""Do you like Faust IV? Then you will love this record!"" That was enough for me, so I bought it. It's one of those records I put on when I have started cooking or something and I will forget that the record is on. Something will happen on the record and I will think, ""Oh my god, this is amazing!"" It is just the spilling out of someone's brains – it's playful and has hints of the United States Of America at points but then it is totally steeped in this weird jazz-Krautrock. There is a track on it called 'Magic-Bag' which is just the guy singing along to the drums and playing the same rhythm as what he is singing and there is water running in the background. The first time I took notice of the song I thought it was so shit. I don't know exactly what he is singing, but it sounds like ""I like my chunky rocky lane"" and then there is a huge gap and there is water running and he comes back singing ""I like my chunky rocky lane"". The fact that he liked his 'chunky rocky lane' made me realise it was one of the best songs on the album. It's a record that can suddenly surprise you. It's when you are trying to get your teeth into something and at the beginning it is difficult but it keeps reappearing and ends up being something absolutely incredible that you end up loving. It's hugely playful, weird and beautiful at points and abrasive at others. It's huge fun to listen to."

"It all started with us on the bus with a few guitars just singing the melody to what became 'The Jean Genie', but it was just naïve and silly. Then, a week later, Bowie came and said: 'Alright, I've finished that one!' And it was of course nowhere near what we had been singing lyrically, but the feel was there. It was one of those nods to good time rock & roll from the early days, spanning from the blues days right into the future. Although it was a very simple song, the lyrics were almost like a rap before rap came out, just with a blues rock backing. He was rapping about the weird scenes we were hanging out in in New York at the time. It just seemed to sum up a whole few years of the 1970s for us. There was weirdness in there, things you couldn't understand, sex, drugs and rock & roll are all in that song. It was, again, David going ahead and churning out a hit. And that one was a first take – that's what's on the record."

"Foreigner was a band that had an anthemic sophistication about their musical approach. It was educated, well-formed, well turned-out British-American music. The primary songwriter and leader of the band [Mick Jones] was a Brit, and the vocal talents of probably rock’s finest ever tenor, Lou Gramm, fitted perfectly with their sound. I got to know Lou many years later after his horrendous illness. When he was making his comeback to singing after brain surgery, me and some other guys played with him on a big German TV show, and we had to change the key of the song we were doing. We dropped it before he came over to Germany and then when he got there we dropped it another couple of steps. I said to him that the Lou Gramm of 20 or 30 years prior, when he was singing at the top of his range, was a pretty hard act to follow. He said that he didn’t write the songs, and just had to sing what was written, and that he could do that in the studio but it was very tough to do night after night on stage. In a sense I have been there myself. I made records in 1982 [The Broadsword And The Beast] and 1984 [Under Wraps] where I sang really well on record, absolutely at the top of my range. I’m a baritone, and my range is usually up to an E or an occasional hasty F, and then I was singing F# and G. I was singing at the top of my range and singing consistently up there, not just the occasional high note. It was something I couldn’t keep up night after night and I lost my voice in 1984 and had to pretty much take a year off to recover. I cancelled three shows in Australia and two shows in the USA. Over the period of a month I cancelled more than 50 per cent of all the shows that I’ve cancelled in my entire 44 years in music. I still have a soft spot for Lou because of his incredible vocal ability and the wonderful controlled quality of his voice. I do believe he is rock’s finest tenor. His diction was good, his articulation and rhythm was great, he was a truly great singer. It doesn’t mean he’s rock’s best singer or best-known singer, because the usually out of tune Rod Stewart and gymnastic Robert Plant were probably more charismatic. Lou was more mainstream, but it was nevertheless a joy to listen to someone, rather like Alfie Boe, who is in complete control of their vocal ability as the result of hard work and a huge amount of natural talent. He may not be the most exciting pop singer, but for me he is the best."