Let’s Dance – DJ Kicks mixed by Special Request (!K7)

special-request-dj-kicks

reviewed by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

The DJ Kicks story continues apace, and continues to choose imaginatively, with no sign of the quality dipping. Stepping up for this release is Paul Woolford, donning his Special Request moniker. As a listener he saw the DJ Kicks series ‘as a benchmark of quality and a time-stamped gateway into an artist’s state of mind’, going on to say that ‘for this volume, I wanted to focus on lush melodics. I kept that as a constant thread throughout, choosing only records I cherish…it’s not a ‘current snapshot’ by any means, more a chronicle of some of my all-time favourites.’

What’s the music like?

Given Woolford’s history and pedigree, the idea of sharing in his favourite music is too good to resist – and so it proves. It is no surprise to report a varied set of house and break beat, moving from classic disco-house to full blooded drum and bass, by way of variations in between. The mix is pleasingly rough around the edges in its blending of music, giving it a more authentic feel.

Woolford takes us straight to the heart of the dancefloor with Alicia MyersRight Here Right Now, remixed by John Morales, a very cool cut of swooning vocal house, and he backs this up with instrumentals from Harvey and Morgan Geist, complete with trumpet solo. Being such a prolific writer and producer, Woolford can’t resist adding some varied examples of his own canon, so we get KissFM NY87 Mastermix and Vellichor trading riffs and busy percussion while pushing the mix forwards.

Woolford then gives us sun-soaked techno from As One, Virgo (the brilliant synth-heavy R U Hot Enough?) and Ace Mo, complementing them with diverse beats from Krystal Klear, Speedy J, LS1 Housing Authority and μ-Ziq. Bleeps and blips, warm keyboard pads, dynamic percussive runs – all are found in a thrilling sequence of dance music, the direct style of Woolford’s own productions embodied in the music he chooses.

Two of his own remixes form highlights of the later section of the mix, FC Kahuna’s cool Hayling and μ-Ziq’s Twangle Frent, underpinned by a massive, sonorous bass sound. Now the pace is frenetic, with flurries of drums from Galaxian and Four Horsemen Of The Apocalypse cutting to a widescreen breakdown powering the Tim Reaper mix of another Special Request production, Pull Up. The two collaborate on another stormer, Elysian Fields, before a final Woolford collaboration wraps up the mix, the shimmering 96 Back co-write Petrichor.

Does it all work?

Very much so. Woolford is well-versed in pleasing his crowd, so the notion of a CD-length DJ Kicks mix comes easily to him. The only difficulty, you sense, was choosing what to leave out of the mix! In 25 tracks we get an excellent history lesson with no preaching, a view behind Woolford’s own creative process.

Is it recommended?

Highly. Special Request is an inspired, stellar addition to the DJ Kicks series, which just keeps on getting better. As a celebration of dance music’s primal power to move, you couldn’t ask for more.

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Switched on – Celebrating Daft Punk

As of yesterday, it’s ‘au revoir’ to one of the best and most influential outfits in dance music.

Daft Punk, the duo behind massive hits Around The World, Digital Love, Get Lucky and more – not to mention three huge albums in Homework, Human After All and Random Access Memories – have decided to call it a day. The chances are this decision was made some time ago, for it is a long time since we have heard from them in a collaborative sense, their last released work being two brief cameos on The Weeknd’s Starboy album in 2016.

With Thomas Bangalter and Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo going their separate ways, it’s a good time to consider their impact on music and culture from the 1990s until now.

I can well remember when Da Funk came out, sneaking through the underground and on to an unexpected initial home, Glasgow label Soma Recordings. It was unusually slow for the techno label, and more guitar-laden than their roster at the time – but label heads Slam – aka Stuart McMillan and Orde Meikle – spotted its potential. The instantly recognisable riff found a home in Chemical Brothers live and DJ sets, like a distorted version of Kraftwerk in the way it strutted across the dancefloor – and in the way it translated effortlessly to radio.

Daft Punk built on this with imaginative samples and utterly brilliant videos – both combining to mesmerising effect on their second UK top 10 hit, Around The World:


Homework, their first long player, appeared in many a ‘best of 1997’ list – by which time the pair had moved onto Virgin, their logo uncannily matching that of their new label. Four years later the second album, Discovery, raised them to another level, propelled by their first no.1 single, One More Time:

The breathy vocals from Romanthony (another unexpected Glasgow link) were initially divisive as they sounded exaggerated…but the longer the single loitered on the radio the bigger it became. The lead track on Discovery, it began an album of true dancefloor happiness, which reached giddy heights with Aerodynamic and Digital Love.

These were sleek, funky club cuts with a healthy slab of disco attached, and went perfectly with the robotic image Daft Punk had now created. Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger – the next cut from the album – fared even better, its vocal calling card and riff picked up by Kanye West years later.

Live, Daft Punk were securing a devoted following, with winning sets at Coachella in 2006 and Hyde Park’s Wireless festival the following year. By that time album number three was on the streets. Human After All – good though it was – did not quite hit the heights of Discovery, in spite of Robot Rock and the title track.

By this time French dance music was enjoying a charmed life through the likes of Cassius and Etienne de Crécy, who worked close to Daft Punk and shared mutual influences in their work. Thomas and Guy-Manuel were enjoying success with their own collaborations, too – and we would soon see the fruit of their influence through the likes of Calvin Harris and David Guetta.

The pair’s next direction was unexpected but made total sense, realised in the Tron:Legacy film soundtrack of 2010. Again a little patience was needed on the part of the reviewers and record buying public, and sure enough after a few weeks it was confirmed to be one of the century’s leading soundtracks to date. The plethora of car adverts that still feature Tron:Legacy’s music are a testament to that, and the merging of electronica and orchestra is seamlessly achieved.

An unexpected treat was to follow in 2013, when Get Lucky surfaced – a superstar collaboration that delivered even more than it promised, with the effortless funk of Nile Rodgers’ guitar and the cool-as-California vocals from Pharrell Williams. The chart topping album Random Access Memories also delivered in this respect, though – Lose Yourself To Dance aside – it did not reach the heights of its lead single and even had an underlying melancholy towards the end.

We hardly ever saw their faces, but that was one of Daft Punk’s enduring qualities. They were friendly, robotic types, unable to make music without injecting a huge dose of funk into proceedings. Yet their soundtrack to Tron: Legacy showed there was so much more to their craft – and who knows, we may hear their work for Dario Argento‘s Occhiali Neri which was due to appear in 2020.

Even if we don’t, there is plenty with which we can treasure this duo and their lovable dance music, which makes the dancefloor a brilliant place to be when it’s on. C’est magnifique!

Talking Heads: Grasscut

Interview with Alec Snook

Andrew Phillips and Marcus O’Dair, known to us as Grasscut (above), make a welcome return with their fourth album Overwinter. It is an atmospheric, weather-beaten score with imaginative use of the acoustic instrumentation, blending nicely with the pair’s electronic know-how. In this interview the duo talk about their music-making to date, the writing dynamic between the two, and what they would change about the music industry if they could…

This is the first new Grasscut material for nearly 6 years; tell us what you’ve been up to…

Andrew Phillips I’ve been working on a lot of film and tv scores, won an Emmy and got nominated for a BAFTA, but have also been working on Grasscut material the whole time! (hangs head in shame) It’s just taken a long time to get the balance right! A few times I went back and started again because we wanted to develop and change as we have with every album.
Marcus O’Dair I’ve been working on writing projects, including spending a summer as writer in residence in the North Downs Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty. I’m currently doing something for the European Jazz Network. I’ve also been doing academic projects, including a stint as researcher in residence at Digital Catapult in London, during which I wrote a book, and a project with British Council Mexico.

How did you guys meet and start making music together?

AP We met through a mutual friend in another band in the 00s. Marcus was a music broadcaster and journalist as well as a musician, and was full of interesting thoughts and takes on lots of contemporary music. While we were touring, I started making what turned out to be early Grasscut tracks on my laptop on the tour bus and he was really into it. I think I probably would have poked something out on a very small scale, but Marcus got Ninja Tune to hear it, brought a lot of ambition to the project, and here we are.

Do you employ largely the same techniques used while composing/scoring for TV/film when writing for Grasscut, or do you deliberately change up the process?

AP It’s similar musically really, but for the fact that Grasscut songs often start in my head as lyrics or a phrase. But like a film score, the songs I write for Grasscut are always serving a bigger idea than just themselves: these albums are not just a collection of songs over a period. Also, and I shouldn’t admit this, but sometimes I’ll be writing something for a score and save it for Grasscut, because of its tone, or because it won’t leave me alone.

What does a Grasscut writing session look like, between the two of you?

AP Our collaboration is unusual in the sense that we’ve never written music together – the music lyrics and production are my job. Overwinter is a classic example of how Marcus and I work together: I’d started Return of the Sun and a couple of other tunes in 2017; then Marcus brought Grasscut an arts commission to respond to the Wessex Film and sound Archive in Winchester, and we both worked with a film director colleague of mine there. The resulting film had a profound effect on what then became Overwinter – and there is a track called The Archive on the album as a result. So different elements feed back into the writing process. I think it takes a very special kind of creative trust to work like this, and I really appreciate it.

How has the COVID situation affected this process? Have there been any positives, musically, to come out of the enforced restrictions?

AP I’ve worked remotely with a lot of musicians during Covid on film and TV scores, but like a lot of composers I’ve been doing this for years – the recording session with the string orchestra for Overwinter in Moscow in 2019 was a remote session. You’re communicating with the conductor and orchestra via video link and hearing the sound in real time, and it can work really well. But also this year, lockdowns permitting, Marcus and I started playing together again in my studio and it was like a breath of fresh air. I just hope we get to play live more next year.

Is Grasscut a welcome distraction from the film work and writing?

AP For me they’ve come closer together in the last few years, particularly on this record. It is lovely to write without an obvious deadline, and sometimes in a freer style. But I think my work as a composer has been more affected by being known for Grasscut, so the two feed into each other now.
MO It might seem as though they’ve moved further apart for me. In 2015, when the last album came out, I was working in the music department of a university. I still work in a university now, but more in the context of art and design. But actually, I think the things I do in Grasscut – not just management and playing keyboards and double bass, but helping dream up madcap projects – are still pretty aligned with what I do beyond. The bit that *is* a welcome change is actually making music.

How has the Grasscut ‘sound’ changed over the years? Has the progression been a conscious decision or has it occurred organically?

AP I think it’s progressed organically, and been affected both by our obsessions, poetry, Robert Wyatt, Kathleen Ferrier, and what’s going on around us. When we started Grasscut some of the music was more explosive, we were having fun, the mix of samples, strings, synths and poetry felt really exciting. But though it’s always been about human experience in landscape, now the landscape has changed. Overwinter is more orchestral, darker and hymn-like I think. And also more political: I find myself writing about homelessness, a crisis of identity in this country, and our relationship with our past. After the last 5 years in the UK, what else would I write about?

Previous LPs have seen you embellishing the music with really unique conceptual extras (See: the treasure map-esque aspect included as part of 2010’s 1 inch: 1/2 Mile LP package, which led fans to a totally unique musical artefact, hidden in a deserted hamlet in East Sussex). Does the new LP have a conceptual element? Tell us the idea behind the album.

AP Our ‘3rd member’ is designer and photographer Pedr Browne, who has been an integral part of presenting all the albums. For Overwinter he has produced a 10 image sequence of stereoscopic photographs. Stereoscopy is Victorian 3D, so the images, like the songs, explore the idea of looking at ourselves and our environment through the lens of the past, to understand how we’ve got to where we are. The limited edition album bundle includes those images and a pair of stereo specs.

If you had to choose one musician/writer/artist without whom the Grasscut sound would not exist, who would it be?

AP For me it would be Gavin Bryars‘ piece Jesus Blood Never Failed Me Yet – a string orchestra accompanying a tape loop of a homeless man singing from 1971. I heard this when I was a teenager in the early 80s. It doesn’t immediately sound like Grasscut, but the collision of unlikely elements that heighten the intensity of the listening experience, is something that’s stayed with me, and I don’t think Hilaire Belloc would have been on In Her Pride, Kathleen Ferrier on We Fold Ourselves or Siegfried Sassoon on Red Kite otherwise.

2012’s Unearth saw you collaborating with Robert Wyatt; is there one artist you would dearly love to work with in the future?

AP Right now, composer and turntablist Shiva Feshereki would be amazing.
MO We knew Robert because I’d written a book about him, and it was humbling to have him contribute to Richardson Road. But we’ve worked with some other great people too, including jazz musicians like Seb Rochford and John Surman. Also Robert Macfarlane, who wrote liner notes for Everyone Was A Bird. Right now, I seem to be mainly listening to jazz records from the 1950s and 60s, and dub records from the 1970s, which don’t throw up a lot of potential collaborators. But I’d love to do something with David Coulter playing singing saw.

What part does the live element play on completion of a new project? Is it integral to conveying the ideas/concepts, or is it simply a necessary evil?

AP For us I think the live show is always an exciting reinvention of the record, and it brings different things out of the songs and arrangements. I really hope we get to play it live later in 2021.
MO Yeah, bring on the gigs. Obviously, one thing 2020 has shown us is how much we need live music. I realise I’m not alone in this but I really miss it, both as a performer and an audience member.

If you could change one thing about the music industry, what would it be?

AP Genre. I find the obsession with it exhausting, misleading, and conservative. And it can end in so many playlists that feel like a padded cell lined with oatmeal wallpaper.

MO I would change the way in which streaming works, which relates in part to Andrew’s answer. But I also mean I would change the money side. I should declare an interest in this, as I’m a Director of the Featured Artists Coalition. There is great work happening with the Broken Record and Fix Streaming campaigns, led by people like Tom Gray, and now the Digital Culture, Media and Sport Select Committee are having an enquiry. But they are up against some big beasts. We’ll see.

Overwinter is out now on Lo Recordings – and a full review will follow on Arcana soon. The album can be purchased through clicking on the Bandcamp link above.

Switched On – Bicep: Isles (Ninja Tune)

reviewed by Ben Hogwood

Isles is the second album from Bicep, the Belfast-born and London based duo of Matt McBriar and Andy Ferguson, who dazzled us with their self-titled album in 2017. On it they showed a love of early rave music and an ability to channel it into futuristic beats and soundscapes. This resulted in a number of high profile advert appearances (BMW especially) but also translates into a brilliant live show.

When live gigs do return, this ‘home listening version’ of their second album will find new impetus in front of an audience, with Bicep always keen to give their fans the biggest show possible.

What’s the music like?

In truth it would be impossible to recreate the primal thrill of Bicep’s debut, which was all about having the maximum possible impact on the dancefloor. Yet Isles runs its predecessor close, retaining the distinctive clipped beats and riffs that make the duo’s music instantly recognisable, and adding some imaginative samples and vocals drawn from international sources.

Second single Apricots is a prime example, powered by a double sample of traditional Malawian singers recorded in 1958 and a song from the Bulgarian State Radio and Television Choir. Along with Atlas it runs close to the sound of their first album, with enjoyable kinetic energy and early house highs. Meanwhile Sundial uses Asha Boshle and Bhupinder Singh’s Jab Andhera Hota Hai, a sublime piece of work catching the dazzling rays of our star.

The clipped beats find an ideal complement in the vocals of Clara La San on Saku, a singer who manages the balance of being quite subdued but capturing an underground garage sound. The two really feed off each other. Vocals of a very different kind inform the beatless Lido, based on a sample of a motet by Italian renaissance composer Carlo Gesualdo.

These examples show just how broad the reach of McBriar and Ferguson can be, a cosmopolitan approach that keeps a healthy edge to the music and gives the album a healthy variety.

Does it all work?

Pretty much everything does. Just on occasion it would be good to see Bicep develop their source material a bit more, as in a track like Rever, with Julia Kent, which has a really good sample but doesn’t push on as much as you might expect. Elsewhere though, when the beats ping around like images on a 1980s video game, Bicep are on great form.

Is it recommended?

Yes. While Isles may not have their immediate thrills and spills of the Bicep debut, it still has plenty going for it. A fine follow-up which shows them to be great beatsmiths on record – and let’s hope it’ not too long before we get to see them live as well.

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Talking Heads: Mr Scruff – DJ Kicks

interview by Ben Hogwood

When Arcana called to speak with Mr Scruff , aka Andy Carthy, about his DJ Kicks album earlier this year, we were locked down – but he was using the time productively. “I’m having a big tidy. Musically I’ve been all over the place and want to lay my hands on stuff quickly. I’ve been organising it like a record shop, just having a big clear out and all that. I know a lot of DJs who are doing the same thing. When you’re not pulling out all your records all the time your collection’s a bit static, so it’s easier to organise. I’ve got triple albums where the three albums have been reunited for the first time in about twenty years!”

Has he made any rediscoveries? “Loads! I’ve been going through whole sections like hip hop 12”s and house 12”s. Each section takes about a week to go through, and I’m listening to loads of stuff – promos I received 25 years ago. Two thirds of them are ‘see you later’, but one third is ‘wow’. You’re hearing stuff for the first time.”

We turn to his DJ Kicks compilation, widely acknowledge as one of the best mixes released this year. His approach to it is instructive. “However much you try it’s never going to be like a live mix”, he confirms. “When I started mixing in the 1980s, that was the decade of the megamix. It was still quite ‘in the moment’ but the tools at your disposal were different, and you could be more considered. It reminded me of being a teenager doing pause button edits, it was great fun!”

He starts with a long list…but inevitably elements such as copyright and clearance whittle it down. “It’s an odd one, because !K7’s initial advice was to pick 30-40 tunes – there’s your record box – and they would see what they could clear, and we’d do the mix. They also wanted a very wide ranging mix, and I said that would probably work if you were doing quite a linear mix at one tempo or texturally similar, like a box of DJ tools. This way it will probably go all over the place in terms of tempo, instrumentation and genre, by the very nature of the request. Each record is a very important piece of the puzzle, and if you lose one then the next five or six might not happen. It was a chicken and egg thing, so I did a draft mix, and then made lots of development. Then we would try and clear stuff and half of those tunes couldn’t be used, so it was a little frustrating. You’re normally used to taking records and putting them on, so I had to find ways of keeping interest and focus, and keeping the fun element of the project, without getting dragged down by the politics of licensing.”

He is familiar with such things. “Those frustrations are part and parcel of any licensing operation. On one hand you have the idealist approach – people need to hear this, this mix is beautiful, nothing should impede all the people hearing it – and when you’re DJing, nothing does impede it. Then it’s like, ‘We can’t have this one’, and I’ve had that before. You just need to get over it and keep reworking it, but not too much. You can’t get too bogged down or upset by not being able to use a certain tune.”

Was the idea to also give the listener a sense of discovery? “Kind of, but then on another level a lot of these tracks to me are classics. It’s an odd one because one person’s unknown and obscure is another person’s familiar comfort music, if you know what I mean. The recent obsession with many people of obscure ‘tropical’ music, for want of a better word, is a case in point. I’m thinking of K.Frimpong, something like that. When I first heard one of his tunes via a Ghanaian friend’s parents, I thought it was amazing and obscure, but they told me it was the Ghanaian equivalent of Sex Machine, everyone knows that tune!”

Some will be new to the listener, however. “There’s a few unreleased bits, or ones that haven’t been widely available. Quite a lot of them like the Tiger tune When, which is a classic from my youth. If you weren’t around at the time you’d be like ‘What’s that weird ragga tune by the guy with the slightly nasal, really weird comedic voice?!’ Some tunes on there like Fats Comet‘s Dub Storm are very important tunes from my teenage years. I’m not going out to be deliberately obscure, saying ‘look what I’ve got’ – the music has to be there for a reason. For me it was more about freewheeling, and the joy about putting the mix together is that each tune has to be a transition, taking it somewhere and passing the baton on to something else. With certain older tunes they are more dynamic and less linear than modern electronic productions. The transitions are very important, but that shows that if you take one tune out nothing can fill that gap, either in terms of key or lyrically. If you play an old tune that speeds up you can get from 90 to 110 bpm effortlessly in four minutes. You’re not having to do that as a DJ, the tune’s doing it for you. it builds the energy as a DJ set should do, but if I tried to do that with electronic music it might take me two hours! It’s letting each record do it’s thing, allowing the music to speak and breathe. It’s an especially important consideration when you’re overlaying lots of things, and you have to be careful not to get too much into showing off skills or obscure music. It’s nice to get technical and loopy but other tunes, let them breathe for five or six minutes. The records and audience are part of the conversation, and when you’re doing a student or bedroom mix it becomes a lot more between you and the music.

Is there even a similarity between the structure of a DJ set and a classical work? “You’ve got to have a strong start with a DJ mix, something that is arresting but also a little confusing. I think you have to have a bit of mystery, and it can be drama or ‘what’s happening here, where is this going to go’? It’s like introducing the character at the start of a film, with some plot building. After 3 or 4 tunes you’ve laid out your foundations and some reference points, so people are like ‘yeah, I’m strapped in now, let’s see where we’re going!’ I don’t think you can think too much about it at the start, other than mellow and a bit mysterious, then energetic and maybe comforting at the end. Any more planning than that and I think you’re taking out the opportunity for happy accidents, or just letting the records speak. They become part of the narrative, and it’s about how they add to the story. You’re creating a collage.”

He moves on to wax lyrical about Antibalas, and Battle Of The Species, the twelfth track in the DJ Kicks mix. “That to me is another massive classic. When the trombone comes in it’s like an elephant coming into the room! With tunes like that, ever since I received it, it brings back countless memories of seeing them live. Just the heaviness the guys in New York, like the Daptone Collective, Gabe Roth and the old school producers recording stuff on tape, recreating the 1970s but doing it in such a way that is heavy but nice to be able to introduce them in a mix without smoothing out the mad, raw energy. That’s the danger with a mix, in your rush to make everything seamless you can work against the dynamics of the music. You have to have an ear for what those tunes do. Many of these tunes I’ve played 150 times in a club, you know, so that wasn’t going to be an issue.”

There was an upside to wrangling over copyrights and permission. “The licensing provided some opportunities, because you might get to a certain point in the mix where you have to wait a week or two for things to come back, and you can listen to it from a less technical point of view. It’s good fun, and for me the challenge was trying to combine hard electronics and free, life affirming, organic music in a way that didn’t feel incongruous. Sometimes when you’re overlaying stuff you can lose the up and down dynamic, so it has to be more side to side or push and pull. The joy of playing with these different dynamics is mind boggling at times, the creativity that is inherently possible in mixing. It doesn’t detract from the narrative, and you can almost create a completely new tune! I never lose the joy in that creation of hearing two things that go really well together, whether they are from the same genre or not. In the early 90s I used to mix reggae over techno because the tempos went together – say 140 or 70bpm. There are so many different combinations, and they are unlikely but if you trace them 30 years back you can the genres lived next door to each other. For me though it’s the oddball records, the unclassifiable mutants, hopping and skipping around – they are the real heart and soul of the DJ sets. They really do help get you from A to B!”

These tunes fit in with Andy’s principal philosophy. “What I’m trying to do is connect with the feelings I get when I listen to something new for the first time, then try and pass it on to other people. You’ve got to at least awaken curiosity and excitement in people, and constantly look at it from different angles.”

The beauty of this – from my own point as a listener – is encountering new discoveries such as Andy Ash’s Ease Yourself. “Andy is a producer from Liverpool”, Carthy recounts, “and he sent me a CD of this tune about 15 years ago. From quite a mysterious sort of hazy drum and flute thing, it’s very effective, and I found that getting from something that was percussive and jazzy to some house stuff, it was the perfect transition record. Also in itself, in a dark club, it’s pretty intense. For some reason I remembered that tune, and it’s never been released. For two or three years I played that at every gig, and luckily I found the CD and it still works! He’s great, and a lot of his stuff is house tunes that sample the jazzy end of late 1970s soul. It’s a really nice thing, and that’s happened a few times. The Drymbago tune Chupacabra, they grew out of a regular night we had been running at Bangor University for over ten years. Bangor’s not the first place you think of for an appreciation of African and Caribbean music, but I love these incongruous situations where a whole scene can spring out of a small group of people’s love and obsession about certain kinds of music. This country is full of little scenes like that. It’s another of those brilliant head scratching moments!”

What is the ideal length of a Mr Scruff DJ set? “It depends. As much as it’s nice to play all night, it’s also nice to play alongside other people, to keep it free and easy. I’ve done it on my own for 15-20 years, so it’s been nice in the last few to do some back-to-backs. As long as people are versatile you can have a good back-to-back, a musical conversation. I would say 4-6 hours, depending on the venue. With festivals you have to go a bit shorter, but because I’m so used to playing for a long time, three hours feels like a bit of a rush. I love the whole thing of playing for a long time, as you can build a relationship with the people in the venue, set your own scene.”

There are moments of the live experience that Andy finds genuinely odd. “I do find when the support DJ is on people are standing around until the headliner comes on, which I find really weird. I’ll just swan in and everyone’s cheering for me, but these local people who are here week in and week out, who have actually created the whole scene which is the reason I’m here, you’re not giving them any love or attention. That’s a bit of a disconnect in club culture because of their reliance on headliners, but it’s also down to promoters and the way they curate their nights. If you start relying on headliners you’re going to attract a crowd who have this expectation. People are setting the bar too high and spoiling their own enjoyment, saying, ‘I can’t enjoy this music unless it’s played by someone who is sufficiently well known’. Sometimes I’m queuing up a record that they’ve played, and then suddenly people are getting into it. I’ve not started yet, but you’re dancing, because you think I’m DJing! It’s really weird, and at that point I’ll grab a microphone and give this person some respect. You can’t stand still for them and dance to me!” That said, there are so many community-based nights where that isn’t a problem. That might be remedied in the current climate where you can’t have these massive events.”

We move on to discuss the impact of the pandemic had on Andy’s personal life. “I spend so much time with people and loud music, so I’ve not felt a mad urge to replace my personal life with a screen. That’s been quite nice, getting outside and chatting to people I happen to bump into in the park. I’m in the luxury of not having to worry about my venue or festival, so it is an opportunity to rethink – where my money’s going, where I shop, who I’m banking with. One thing that hasn’t really been a big debate is why are these viruses happening? We need to behave a bit more as a species, aside from votes and that kind of thing. You think, what can I do in my everyday life to improve relations with me and the people around me, and make sure that I’m not inadvertently treating people bad by virtue of the companies that I’m supporting with my money. In a barrage of information where e-mails are flying at you like the credits from Star Wars, it’s kind of nice to take stock for a bit. Most of us are like rabbits in the headlights most of the time!”

Mr Scruff’s contribution to the DJ Kicks series is on !K7, and can be purchased from their website here