"I believe this track had a lot of political resonance in the late ‘70s. I don’t know what the impact was at the time, because I was too young - I would’ve been about seven years old. It’s so articulate and compelling; it’s one of the most powerful pieces of lyricism to have come out of the twentieth century. “One of the biggest clichés that I despise is when guys who write lyrics for their band describe themselves as poets - it’s usually the most absurd affectation. With Linton Kwesi Johnson though, you have the opposite, a genuine poet who is putting his words to music. It’s really powerful sonically, too - Dennis Bovell’s production is astonishing and the record just really kicks. The words aren’t just believable, but completely empathetic. When he’s describing blows raining down on his friend and his reaction, it’s like you’re there with him. It’s like stepping into a movie or a really good book and watching the hero right in front of you. Very few songs pull that off as well as this one does. “I’d always listened to reggae growing up, but I didn’t hear this song until I was nineteen or twenty. I shared a flat, for a long time, with a guy from Ghana who was a big Linton Kwesi fan, and it was him who played me the record first. When I was growing up in the ‘80s, the Afro-Caribbean community in Britain didn’t really have much of a voice in the general media, so this record still felt relevant ten or fifteen years later when I finally heard it. “I was just talking to my sister the other day about the racism we saw going on at school. We went to the same one, this really ordinary comprehensive in Glasgow, she’s ten years younger than me and yet we saw similar things. It wasn’t even casual racism - it was often really active racism through which people identified themselves. There were school desks with NF scrawled on them, and some of the language that was thrown about was pretty appalling. It made this song all the more powerful when I first discovered it."

"An underrated Stones record. You know, they had a sound. They originally started off and covered the Beatles' songs and other covers, because they didn't know how to write songs. Everybody hung out in the same clubs back then and they'd see each other socially. So, early on, the Beatles gave them 'I Wanna Be Your Man', which the Beatles recorded, but the Stones did as a single. Their manager Andrew Loog Oldham told them that they had to write their own songs, so they went down and developed that sound. Then eventually they saw the Beatles doing Sgt. Pepper's and all this experimental stuff and the Stones decided to go outside of their comfort zone. That's what I find interesting, whether Satanic Majesties is the Stones trying to do Sgt. Pepper's and ripping off the Beatles or not, it has production value and songwriting that isn't found on any other Stones records. '2000 Light Years From Home', '2000 Man'; I mean, we covered '2000 Man'. It's talking about computers and the year 2000, it's so interesting. I can remember being at school in the 60s and reading 1984 by George Orwell, which is all about how in the future the government would be spying on us. Of course this was written well before 1984, which now sounds like a long time has passed. So it's all relative. With the Stones' music, the strings and backwards stuff, there is some very very good material on that record. They happen not to like the record. I think it's a unique record that shows that the Stones have some depth. There is some bad, out-of-key background singing because they were never the best singers, they didn't have harmonies like the Beatles. The thing about it is that they were blues-based and they veered away from it on that record and went into almost Celtic and classical areas. It was a pastiche, a multi-coloured quilt! You can look at a band like a coin and say, 'I see everything, I don't need to see anything more', but there is that other side. That other side is what I think is more interesting. The depth."

"""Rather than going into the technicalities about them as a band, with The Only Ones it’s more about what it says about me as a teenage fan. I went to a lot of places to watch them, I slept in at least two bus shelters and on the kitchen floor of someone I didn’t know once. Sometimes I’d have tickets and sometimes I’d sneak in to see them and not just in the North, I came down to London and saw them at Dingwalls and The Lyceum. “Peter Perrett was feminine, and if you were a real fan of The Only Ones he had this thing where you’d almost imagine him as a really cool older brother who you didn’t know, that was the way I used to look at him. He led the gang, but he was small and I was small, and he got really involved when he played and that’s the thing, they were a really tight, great rock band. In a way he was almost like my Syd Barrett, he had a very poetic aspect to him. I was already well into studying what the rules of being a bohemian were about and he was it really. “John Perry was an amazing guitar player. Even then, when I was really learning my thing, I was aware it sounded exactly like a Jimi Hendrix lick crossed with a Jeff Beck lick from The Yardbirds, he was of that generation, probably a second generation Marquee, Wardour Street guitar player. They had a really fantastic drummer too, Mike Kellie from Spooky Tooth. They were a great ensemble and I knew they were really rehearsed and it really mattered to them. Peter Perrett never turned up like some druggy mess. “‘No Solution’ is a lesser known one, everybody knows ‘Another Girl, Another Planet’, but it’s the fan in me turning people onto one I think they’ll like but might not know. Fans of The Only Ones will know this song, but when I say fans I’m talking about the people in the audience, I think there were only five of them and I’m probably the only one still left alive!"""

"I love the scope of the movie; there is something in David Lean that I like very much. He’s always of the macro worlds and the micro worlds; he didn’t only do it in Lawrence of Arabia, but repeated it in Dr. Zhivago and other movies. [In Lawrence of Arabia] he made a movie with enormous scope and events that were known in the world — the Turkish-British War, and at the time, the taking of Akaba — things that were very spectacular and very epic, but in reality he’s talking to us about the homosexuality of one of the characters and something really minimalistic and very precise. He gets into the soul of a man through this spectacular movie and this union of these two worlds. He did it again in Dr. Zhivago as I said before, because in a way he put together the entire Russian revolution, which is also very big, while in reality telling a love story. So this kind of union, joining, he does between the macro world and the micro world is something that I was always interested in, and he was a master of doing the type of job. It’s one of those movies that always remain in your mind. Also, he gave himself permission to do it in a way that probably no studio would buy in our day; just to see a man coming from five miles into the camera for two minutes and a half — no executive producer would allow that to happen! He gave himself permission to do that, and I had the luck of seeing a remastered version of Lawrence of Arabia in a theater in Spain 10 years ago, and it was magnificent because it gave you the possibility of thinking, which is unusual. We also have the performance of first time movie actor Peter O’Toole. That was the first movie that he did, which I didn’t know until I worked with Omar Sharif in a movie that I did years ago called 13th Warrior, and he told me that. At the time, he was a very prominent theater actor in London, but that was the first movie that he did. I will never forget those blue eyes on the big screen. Amazing!"

"Look, I'm a hits only person. When I go see a show, I don't want filler. Unless you're Sonic Youth or Tori Amos, I don't want your B-sides. Hits only. It's so self-indulgent. I picked Buzzcocks Singles Going Steady because I like that it's a little campy and gay. And the harmonies are good. It's that simple. I think with music sometimes it is that simple. It was pop punk, not pop punk as it is now, but it was poppy. I got into punk late because what I thought punk was did not appeal to me at all. I was like I couldn't care less about [whispers conspiratorially] Sex Pistols. But Buzzcocks, Gang Of Four, Wire, that's my jam. Melodic and smart and put together and catchy and the rest of it? I don't care. It's self-indulgent, like you say you don't care what we think of you but, yes you do. Singles Going Steady doesn't take itself too seriously, and it's gay. It's so gay. I think it's cool to think about being gay in the punk scene, I don't think it could have been too easy but to me that's ultimately not giving a fuck. It must be easy to be some straight, white dude and be anti-establishment. Well you're part of the problem, get out of here. You're anti what? What are you talking about? We were so lucky to come along in the 90s, because it was really a turning point for pop culture. Look at Riot Grrl, it made punk a safer place for women, and then Queercore came along and made it a safer place for queers. I think, there is a refuge in punk rock now, but that's the thing why I think the Buzzcocks was more punk than punk, because I don't necessarily think there was a refuge then. I think it probably felt pretty lonely, because you weren't disco, you weren't pop, that's where queer culture, or the gay scene really was, and to be a punk then? I don't think you could seek refuge in that. "

"This was a record that Chris Taylor or Chris Bear introduced me to in college. We were eighteen or nineteen in New York, they were studying music and I didn’t know what the hell I was doing! I was trying to be serious about linguistics but I was kind of bullshitting myself. “I’d started writing songs but I was very secretive about it and didn’t take it seriously. I played them to Chris Taylor, he was probably the first person who heard anything I’d done, but I refused to admit to myself that I took it seriously in any real way. When I went to college I decided I wasn’t going to do music, because there was no reason for another white kid to play jazz guitar. I ended up finding songwriting instead and it became a different thing. “This is a reference point we’ve talked about over the years, when one of us mentions this record, everybody knows what we’re talking about, we talked about it on Painted Ruins in certain places. The whole basis of the groove is built on an organ drum machine and the sound of it is very ahead of its time. It’s very groovy but it’s not beating you over the head, it’s an emotional tune that has this subtly danceable beating heart. There’s a soulfulness and dreaminess to it, it accesses the emotional part of you with this really pointed and tight rhythmic quality. “We never wanted to approach music from a folky songwriter’s standpoint. Certain parts of our music have come out that way because of what we play, but it’s remembering what it was like as a teenager, being really into music from a players’ perspective and finding the emotional quality in that, trying to build something that’s soulful and hits you without beating you over the head. I love it when people can pull off that subtlety, where they’re barely touching the instrument but there’s this rhythmic quality to it. “’Aht Uh Mi Hed’ is a touchstone that’s stuck with us, it’s an aspect of music that we really appreciate. We don’t actively strive towards it, but it never quite leaves our minds."

"This album is a big one for me. My friend Michael Diamond from the Beastie Boys introduced me to it. He visited me in Portland and I took him to this record store that was $1 per record and it was just bins and bins of records. He said, ""Oh my god, you should totally get this, it's a great record"", so I got it. In it, Isaac Hayes is leading an orchestra and he's also at the piano and he's talking in between songs telling funny stories. So it's almost a cabaret performance. I didn't know what that was when I got the record. Well, I kind of did, as my uncle was a drag queen. But it was the fact that he would tell stories that would lead into a song. I had done that in Bikini Kill but people were just like, ""Shut up and just sing your song!"" and I was like, ""No! What if I specifically made it a part of the show and had things I was going to talk about?"" His stories would turn from tragic to funny. It really validated what I was doing but he was doing it better. I thought, instead of trying not to do it so I don't get shit I should just do it better. Keep doing it and doing it even better and make it more part of the show instead of less. The other huge thing was, ""Why don't I get to work with an orchestra? Why don't I get to work with really talented people and be like, 'No, let's change it to the key of B' like, 'This key would be better for my voice' and have people who really know what they're doing?"" I'm in that band now – not an orchestra, but I'm working with musicians where I'm like, ""Hey, can we do this song for my sweet spot vocally?"" I'm not the leader in the way that Isaac Hayes was on that album. That record really made me question why I didn't think of myself as someone able to work with people who can talk about things being sharp or flat."

"Well the next one is less action oriented. This is where I began to struggle. Because I had my first four and was like, “Okay, that’s perfect,” and then I had to pick another one. This decision is a bit tough; there’s a three way tie for this, I should say. I’m going to pick The Conversation with Gene Hackman and John Cazale. And the reason I’m thinking this is, I did a movie with Anthony Hopkins called The Rite, and the director of photography — we talked a bit. And he really wanted to have that ’70s feel and stuff — it’s when they just started to use the zoom lens for the first time, and how innovative it was. And then in the 1980s, it became overused and used for the wrong reasons and all that kind of stuff. The Conversation is one that, if you watch The Conversation for the opening sequence where you hear a conversation taking place as the master — this zoom from way up is zooming in over a park. And I was just absolutely blown away by it because you can hear exactly what’s happening, but you don’t see. You’ve got no idea who’s talking. You don’t know where they are or what’s happening. I was blown away. And Gene Hackman is one of my favorite actors. I just think he’s incredible; I could watch him read the phone book. I could watch him pretty much not do anything [laughing]. You just wonder what’s going on in his mind. He’s one of those actors who is saying one thing, but you know there’s so many different things going on inside of his head. You just never know exactly what it is and stuff. I love that. I love being kept guessing. Francis Ford Coppola is one of the greatest directors of all time, and what I thought was great was that it sort of embodies that period of time. Even though it was made in the ’70s and it’s a very specific ’70s movie, I think it’s very, very particular to today. You know, with surveillance and all that kind of stuff. And I just think the whole idea of it is incredible, and it’s just so well made."

"[Anything in Ashby’s] body of work is always recognizably him, but it’s pretty elastic. Like Being There is very different than Shampoo in a lot of ways. There’s a little bit of the surreal that can enter in, but at the same time, they’re very grounded and very of their time, and have a certain gritty feel to them. They’re not so clean. There’s a naturalism there that he marries with some very bold moves and even magical realism. [The Landlord] is this movie that not too many people have seen, didn’t have a big release originally, and it’s hard to find on DVD, and doesn’t have the reputation of Harold and Maude and Coming Home. But I kind of think it might be his best movie. Maybe it’s just because it’s so screamingly brave in a lot of ways, and it hits so many issues. There’s so few American movies that touch on class, and this just comes straight at you like a train, talking about class issues, race. [It’s about] this young man who’s born into privilege, struggling with his place. “He is to the manor born,” you know? He has money in his blood, and he can afford to go buy a building where people are living. Just a young man, Beau Bridges, and it’s probably my favorite thing I’ve ever seen Beau Bridges do, too. It’s sort of startling to see him in this role as the golden boy, and you can almost see Jeff Bridges playing it, too. And the fact that this white guy, automatically, just by the color of his skin and the place he was born and the family he was born into, has the ability to be responsible for the lives of all of these far less fortunate or privileged people. [He struggles] with that sense of responsibility and [tries] to reject it and give up that control, but [also] do right by these people. I don’t know, it’s so complex. But [Ashby’s] not afraid to have some very broad comic moments. You know, there’s a few people who can do it since. Like Alexander Payne or David O. Russell, a few other people whose work you can see owe a lot to Ashby."