"So he started off as an indie guy. 'Loser' was just a song he released on an indie label, but it caught fire. MTV picked it, blah blah blah. And it was later put on a proper album on Geffen. He is an eclectic artist and a Scientologist to boot. The irony is that Beck's father [David Campbell] actually arranged the symphony orchestra that backed us up at the Melbourne stadium when we played there. Mellow Gold has got this eclectic sense to it in terms of, like, he uses drum loops, which I hate, but it sounds cool to me! He uses different kinds of instruments and seems to play them all, and the songwriting is all over the place. But at the core of it, what he doesn't do that other singers do is show off. He just gets the personality going and sings the song. So when you think of Brian Johnson and Robert Plant and Paul Rodgers, they're showing off with their vocals, singing way up on the high end of their range. I don't care if it's Steven Tyler or anybody else, you show off! Beck doesn't show off. He's just midrange or low-down. His attitude comes not from what he does vocally but it's laid back, kind of matter-of-fact, as if he's just thinking to himself. It's a unique thing. In that way, even though it doesn't have a wall of guitars or any of that, it's very rock. That sensibility he's got, although I'm sure he would consider himself an indie artist, but his sensibility is very rock."

"This one's not quite as contemporary as Electrelane – in fact, that's putting it mildly! It's an old folk song that dates back to the seventeenth century, so it's been passed down through the generations. “This is the version that fits the mood of this collection of songs the best I think. It's another one about losing somebody; it's about a young woman who's lover has been kidnapped by a press gang and taken out to sea and she's not going to see him again - it's a terrible, terrible tragedy. “Steeleye Span are a funny band; they came out of a scene that's not too far removed from Kevin Ayers and that electric folk movement of the late ‘60s and early ‘70s. They evolved into something that perhaps wasn't so cool later on - there's a record called All Around My Hat that's a bit Alan Partridge - but those early albums are really great. “I definitely have a personal connection to ‘The Lowlands of Holland’. It's an unusual song, actually, in that I can never figure out whether it's Scottish or Irish in origin. It doesn't really matter, but it has significance for me because I live and have my studio in Dumfries and Galloway, and in the song, Gabe Woods is singing about the man from Galloway. “So I imagine it's where I am and when I'm hundreds or thousands of miles away from home, I hear that song and I imagine being back in Scotland. It generates a degree of homesickness and wistfulness and it's good to feel that, because it reminds you of what home is, and why you should return there.”"

"Reverend Maceo Woods was really the way I discovered gospel music. I was in the Bahamas recording with Talking Heads, the first album I did with them [More Songs About Buildings And Food] and I used to listen to the radio in my little apartment I had there before we started recording, and I'd tune into these distant mainland American stations and one morning I tuned into this song, which was called 'Surrender To The Wheel'. I thought, ""Wow! What does that mean?"" and those words kept going round in my head, it sounded so sort of Inquisition and medieval or on the other hand, cosmic. Surrender to the cosmic wheel of things. Anyway, I didn't record the song but I could remember the chorus, so I remember going into shops singing it to people and finally someone said, ""Oh, that's not 'surrender to the wheel', that's 'surrender to His will'!"" [repeats in affected accent] ""His weeyill!"", and that's how I bought this album. I loved this album so much, and in particular this one singer on it, this voice that just drove me insane. That was was Doris Sykes. So after buying all the Reverend Maceo Woods albums I could get – and they weren't that easy to get – I started thinking that, really, the thing was Doris Sykes, that was what I was interested in. She has this real insane vibrato, it's just dizzy, kind of mad. It's like somebody who is completely gone [laughs]. Something that you only ever hear in Gospel music really, and in early rock & roll you hear it sometimes as well."

"One of my favorite films of all time has got to be Mary Poppins. Well I was old enough to remember it when it came out, but I don’t think I saw it in the cinema, I think I saw it when it eventually came on television. In those days, you had to wait about six or seven years before a film got from the f–king cinemas to the television, and it being Disney, they never actually released their films. It was a very clever policy: They just re-released them every 10 years. I think it’s one of those movies. I was having a very depressing time recently working on a job. I was feeling particularly bad and I put the television on on a Sunday afternoon, and Dick Van Dyke was singing “Chim Chimney” — it just lifted my spirits. Everybody criticized his Cockney accent — and even at the time I probably joined in — and you can criticize his Cockney accent, but you cannot criticize his brilliant comic dancing. It’s f–king wonderful. Oh, it’s wonderful. And the quality of the work: The beauty of that film, the simplicity of it and the way it was made and directed; the charm. The way it appeals to people — it’s the old cliché, you know: Eight or 80. It’s a wonderful piece of work. And it’s magical. It’s one of those films, you know, that you can dip into. If you’re ever feeling low, stick it on and you’ll feel much better. If you haven’t got any illegal drugs, put that on and you’ll be alright. [Laughs]"

"I love the orchestration, I love the sentiment, [Thom Yorke] is going through a peaceful patch on that record. He sounds like for the first time he is crooning to you a little bit, like he is a little more comfortable. He is still dealing with huge social issues in his lyrics and very deeply personal experiences as well. On 'Morning Bell' he sings: ""Where'd you park the car?"" That's the conversation your parents have when they are newly split up. They still have to share a vehicle, that is a conversation that they have to have. If you're a child of the '80s, nowadays everybody's got their own car, but that was the only communication my parents had after about six months. And when I heard it singing out in the middle of his lyrics, I just knew for sure that's what he was talking about. So, beautiful, overarching. Sometimes Thom's lyrics are like being berated. It's like being shouted at, and then at other times, he seems to pull a rainbow out of the sludge out of nowhere. That record, it could have been any of them, but that's the one I consider mine, in the same way I feel a sense of ownership of those Talk Talk records. That's the Radiohead album that's given me the most joy. It can take you back to a sad time in your life, and I think that's what good music does as well. You know it brings you forward to the present, but also reminds you of your emotional connection to something in the past. And I think if an album can do that, it's worked, basically."

"This had a massive impact on the way my parents brought us up, especially my dad, who's a singer himself. Here were a family from the North digging into old songs and traditions, and it made Dad really interested in doing the same. He became a member of a longsword team – I know – and then he got into reviving Mummers' plays, including the only surviving Mummers' play including its own dance. Every Boxing Day, us kids would be dragged down to see it, Dad playing this character who would be killed and brought to life again [laughs]. So many of our rituals as a family were about similar things: carolling on the green, singing folk in the pub and having this real passion for the seasons. For me, revisiting tradition is very rooted in wanting to recognise social struggles, the situations of the working classes, and the pastoral. These songs aren't about looking backwards and inwards, but about learning about the realities of your culture and wanting to share it with others. I remembering going to a Swedish festival some time ago, being encouraged to share songs from where I was from, and realising then what a very powerful currency those songs were. They help you connect with other countries' forgotten stories and emotions – and actually, that's something that happened to me in Harare doing Africa Express as well. These Ethiopian women encouraging me to sing for them, and then watching their reactions… it's very moving seeing people respond to these songs from different parts of the world. It makes you realise there's so much that connects us."

"You have to remember that this came out when I was 10 years old, and my brothers started smoking pot and listening to that all the time. So we lived a lot of our young intense lives with all that cool Led Zeppelin shit playing. But when I hear Led Zeppelin IV, I guess that's where I discovered that idea of a rock group. So for me, Led Zeppelin never really evokes anything other than these dudes playing this bad ass music. Of course, it's impossible to really play like Led Zeppelin. I mean, they're a total fabrication of sounds and moods and little arranging techniques, little quirks. Jimmy Page is a master of that. It's a magical combination of, what, eight songs? When you listen to them altogether, which we do quite often, I don't see how anyone who loves music could listen to that and not think, 'Fuck, that's cool'. Such cool drumming, such cool effects on the guitars. Robert Plant... it's a weird way he sings. People have accepted it now, but it's a weird screech. So high, with so much velocity, he's really singing at the peak of his energy. That is driving the music. You can't take Robert Plant's screeching out of that and get the same effect. It's just what the song is. That song 'Rock N Roll' [sings] "been a long time since I rock 'n rolled"... if you don't sing it like that, it doesn't have the same effect. He screams that shit with that freaky echo on his voice, it's like some truth from beyond. It's fucking amazing. It's still amazing."

"Come on, it's one of the biggest records of all times! I remember the first time I heard that record, it was probably about a year after discovering Back To Black actually, when I was in eighth grade, so in 1979/1980, something like that. Me and my brother were living with my father for a year, he was stationed in Pennsylvania, and I went to school out there. There was a kid next door, a year or two older than me. I think his name was Dale Nadoo or something like that. Anyway, he would constantly be in his room, next to us, so I could hear him. We became friends. He had this kick ass stereo system in his room , and he'd smoke pot and listen to fucking music all day. He turned me on to two records which are on this list: Paranoid and Dark Side Of The Moon. There's so many things I admire in Pink Floyd: David Gilmour is one of the most expressive guitar players I’ve ever heard and one of my favourites. Also the fact that they had dual vocals, with Roger Waters singing as well. It's a landmark record, the biggest selling record of all times, in rock, for many years, if not still. Pink Floyd for me have always been a very visual band. When you listen to the music it takes you places, you see landscapes and characters, it's very cinematic. I always dug that about them. The care they took in the songwriting, the performances and at the production level, especially for the time: it was so multi-layered, so rich and deep."

"I did an Apple iTunes show at the Roundhouse, and they asked me 'if you could have anybody in the world playing with you, who would it be?' And I said 'oh, Silver Apples'. I'd seen him play the Knitting Factory in New York, and I thought that if I asked him to play with me his response would be a resounding 'no', but he was really enthusiastic and happy to do it, he's just this cool guy with a nice hippy girlfriend. Everything about them, the fact that he invented his own equipment, and he did kind of single-handedly invent electronic dance music. You listen to 'Oscillations' and maybe someone would challenge me on this, but I think that's the moment when... before that, electronic dance music didn't exist. It's got the four on the floor kick, all the different synth textures, even the subject matter, singing about technology. That's techno in 1968. Silver Apples came out of that Lower Manhattan performance art scene, starting as them playing music for artists on LSD dancing in lofts. There's one song that they've done that I've always wanted to cover, the song 'I Have Known Love', and every couple of years I go back to it and try and cover it, but every version I've tried to do of it is terrible. At some point in my life I want to try and find someone to do it with because it's a really beautiful song... Maybe I should just accept the fact that the original is perfect and it doesn't need to be covered."