"There’s no performer like Ivor Cutler. This record is a mixture of songs and poetry and stories and the lines between them all aren’t particularly distinct. There’s also a lady who I think was his girlfriend or lover at the time, but she has a couple of short poems on it. The only thing I can think that would be similar would be if you had Philip Larkin and Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band on a record together. It manages to capture those two extremes. It’s also a misleading record because when you first listen to it you think its daft nonsense, and it’s not, it’s extremely astute observation that is succinctly delivered. There’s one piece that talks about sex: "I used to lie in bed with women I loved and have sex. With this woman, I lie in bed and have love, whatever we do is love. Even sex." You have that next to a song about a ludicrous fantasy story about someone saving a sparrow from a taxi driver’s boots. The imagery is wonderful and it’s truly absurd but the absurdity can distract you from how observant it really is. It also has a distinct melancholy running through it as well. Even a song like 'I Believe In Bugs' and the last line "I will feel the bugs wriggle as they eat me away" – it’s funny and it’s absurd but he’s talking about mortality and the absurdity of existence. And very Scottish as well!"

"I first heard him at about 16, and listening to him was like just doing really good drugs, it was like smoking [laughs]... I felt very moved by his music and when I did, it felt like it was just for me, because it seemed like no-one had ever heard of him. No-one really knew of him that well until - I'd often put his record on and blow people's minds with it. I'm not sure what I meant by it being ""personal"" - it sounds like a good way of not talking about it! - I don't want to repeat myself, but listening to it, I never get bored. If we want to get into the sound of a record, there's some pretty innovative sounds in there, in a way. I think it was quite an adventurous record, really, for a supposed folk singer and I find his songs very moving. The first song I ever sang was 'Don't Want To Know ‘Bout Evil', I did a version with William Orbit, and then one of the first gigs I ever did was supporting John Martyn. I think it was at Queen Elizabeth Hall - I was so happy, and running around with bottles of champagne and was like ""no! He's not drinking them!"" He was pretty grumpy, but it seemed to me had different states of mind - this time, he was in a different place."

"I've been a fan of his since the start, when I heard ‘Didgeridoo'... At our age it was an interesting time, because it was the start of dance culture as we know it, but also I was young enough when I first heard it that I didn't differentiate between hearing a Mary Chain song or hearing an Orb song or a KLF song or a Loop song. I guess of all the bands or musicians that I heard around that first wave of electronic music, I think Richard James is the guy that's continued and kept a high standard and evolved what he did. I mean, that Richard D James record, if you went and listened to half of the brand new IDM vomit they'd be shitty copies of that. What makes his music is so special is that as well as being amazing at concocting interesting sounds and rhythms, he's also musically always doing something brilliant. The piano songs on the Drukqs album are unbelievable. Talking about that, it's completely irrelevant to this, but the most annoyed I've ever got at a music review is the review of Drukqs in Uncut where the journalist said there's no point in making solo piano music because you'd never do anything as good as Satie or Chopin. Well let's just fucking go home then! But anyway. To be able to marry the playfulness with the beauty and the melancholic element, that's just incredible."

"And then, I’m going to go with Sexy Beast, a little off of the comedy. Why I love that movie so much is that Ray Winstone is such a badass. I’m a big fan of Nil by Mouth as well, and I knew him from Nil by Mouth. It starts out, he’s with his friends, and [speaking in a British accent] they’re all talking, out there at the restaurant, and he’s like, “Yeah, I’ll get the chicken thing.” “What chicken thing?” And then the friend comes in like, “Ah sh**, just leave it outside.” And they go, “We have something to tell you. Don’s coming.” And then you see him basically sh** his pants, like, “Don? Don’s coming? What’s Don coming for? No, no, God, not Don!” And I’m watching like, “Holy sh**! Who would Ray Winstone be afraid of? This better not be the Ben Kingsley role. This better not be that f***ing little Ghandi motherf***er coming in, scaring Ray Winstone.” And right after the first scene with him, he’s just riding in the car silently; he’s just quiet. Then he gets out of the car and goes, “I’ve got to change my shirt. I’m sweating like a f***ing ****!” [laughs] Oh my God! And he’s so good in it. And it was ultimately a love story, a love story. It was all about his love for his ex-porn actress wife. So f***ing awesome."

"Like a lot of people of my generation, the first time I heard a Kurt Weill song was The Doors. You go half a lifetime without realising it was written by Brecht and Weill. Recently I went on a journey. I write songs with a guy called Reid Paley. He’s a very less is more, economical songwriter and you know there’s something about him that’s very tin pan alley. He wears a black jacket and a white shirt and has no problem banging out a song. He is not going to use a word like ‘thalossocracy’ in one of his songs. I felt I needed to get into the feel of Threepenny Opera - how has it survived all these years and spawned all these cover versions which are part of the jazz songbook? I really needed to educate myself and listen to that record ten or twenty times to hear the melody and the meter and the drama, what they put together, those dudes back in pre-WW2 Berlin. They were working really hard and we’re still talking about those records today. I was just enjoying it in and my wife was listening along upstairs. She was doing laundry and I was doing pots and pans. And she said: “I could listen to this all day long, whatever it is.” I don’t speak German so I’m missing a lot outside the English part of the libretto but I still love it."

"Robert Ashley is famous for having made these so-called operas, a lot of them were for TV. He works with the voice in these really great ways. I love this record because you don't know exactly what's going on: there's a lot of mystery. You have to piece together what's going on within the minutiae of the musical environment. Or you don't and you just listen and enjoy it. The sounds are very beautiful. Ther's a distant organ in the background just playing this one chord and you can also hear a bass. You can hear this woman whispering in French but you can barely hear her. Then this male singer appears but there's some crazy modulation on his voice. So all these crazy elements combine to create this crazy environment that you want to listen to for maybe ten minutes, because it's not like a song but it's got the elements of a song: you've got a bassline, you've got these instruments playing harmonies and you have voices. But you can't tell what's going on. It has an atmosphere. The album is called Automatic Writing but the track I'm talking about here, specifically, is called 'Automatic Writing'. It's important for me because it reinforced this idea that you could put beauty into music without necessarily using sweet melodies or whatever. I do have that in my music, but I also like the drama that can come from just… voices."