[READ our review of STR4TA’s Aspects here and add it to your collection here.]
To mark the release of Aspects, his album in collaboration with Jean-Paul “Bluey” Maunick under the guise of STR4TA, Gilles Peterson and I recently had the chance to discuss all things Brit Funk and beyond. Taking in his early days on the Brit Funk scene in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s, the joy of the UK's current jazz world and his long history of promoting musical excellence, it was a hugely entertaining conversation with a music lover who manages to retain incredible enthusiasm for his “hobby.”
With Aspects, the beloved broadcaster, DJ and founder of multiple revered record labels (Acid Jazz, Talkin’ Loud, Brownswood Recordings) has returned to the musical love of his youth to glorious effect, and we, the listeners, are the beneficiaries.
Thanks for finding the time to speak to us today. How has the launch of the album been?
Yeah, yeah it’s been good. It’s been funny because I’m also just getting this book ready at the moment.
So, what’s that about then?
I’ve done a book called Lockdown FM: Broadcasting In A Pandemic. It’s basically a 600-page guide through 80 radio shows.
Wow!
Yeah, it's a bit of a folly!
Is it one of those things that sounded like a good idea at the time?
Originally it was meant to be something kind of DIY-ish and quite easy, but as time went on, it just grew. I got a designer called Hugh Miller who is really good, but I didn't realise that he is really high-end, so he really took it extremely seriously and it just got bigger and bigger from there. We’re just deciding on price points and I’m learning how that world works, so that’s coming up on Wednesday.
Yeah, the STR4TA thing is interesting, it really was something I did for a laugh with Bluey because we had a little window of opportunity. I don’t know if it’s anything to do with lockdown, but there’s an element of nostalgia that also played a part.
You’ve touched on a lot of things there that I’d like to ask more about. Obviously, you’ve known Bluey a long time—why work together now?
I’ve known Bluey a long time—over 30 years and he was the first guy that I interviewed on pirate radio. He came down from Tottenham and a few years later when I set up my second record label (Talkin’ Loud), his was the fourth group I signed.
He said he was reforming Incognito and that was really interesting. We did a number of albums together and the band kind of saved the record label. Even though the other groups (Galliano, the Brand New Heavies, etc.) were doing well in a niche area, Incognito started having hits in America. There was a song called “Deep Waters” with Maysa Leak who was Stevie Wonder’s backing singer and that was a hit in the US and that suddenly found its way onto Mercury Records (who owned Talkin’ Loud) and where they otherwise would have said “time to go,” they were now happy for me to sign lots of other groups and that’s when I signed Roni Size and 4Hero and Nuyorican Soul, so I owe Bluey a lot!
And I went off and did my thing, but we always stayed in touch and we both have a relationship with Japan. His groups do very well over there and I go at least twice a year to DJ. Then one day on a flight home, I thought, wouldn’t it be great if we could both be in Japan at the same time and produce some of these Japanese artists we like so much because there’s a real love for jazz funk and fusion over there. I thought, let’s get some of the artists together, get someone to pay for it and make an album!
But that never happened, so the catalyst for this record was actually watching the BRITs in 2019 and Tyler The Creator came up to collect his award and when he did, he said that his music wouldn’t be the same without ‘80s British funk, so I thought “fuck, he’s talking about this music that no one seems to be that bothered about, but that I love.” So immediately I called Bluey and said we should get on with it!
To strike while the iron was hot?
Well yes, but I actually felt it was just time. There’d been this renaissance and revisiting of post-punk with new bands coming through like Black Midi. It was only a couple of degrees away from DJs playing wobbly old Brit Funk records and I was beginning to hear that from DJs as I travelled the world. Some big names were beginning to play things with references and riffs and so I could feel it coming and it was a good opportunity to just kind of get stuck in.
I didn’t want it to get too serious, I just wanted it to be a laugh—almost a jam session. Let’s just go in the studio, get a couple of the musicians, the old legends (well, legends to me and you) and so Bluey did it. The reason Bluey and I work so well together is that I come from a bit more of a leftfield angle and he comes from a straight-up angle, and I just wanted to make sure we could make a record that felt like it was not too tidy. I was saying “that’s enough now, I like that mistake,” whereas the musicians wanted to keep going! Better doesn’t mean better, you know.
What makes it so enjoyable to work with Bluey?
I think, first and foremost, you’ve got to look at that era of music when I first heard him. I was 15 or 16 and discovering this Brit Funk thing on pirate stations and there was a record shop in Sutton that had some stuff, but it was very underground, but a big underground movement. What made it unique was that there were bands, but it was also a DJ movement—there were the weekenders and the clubs and parties that were happening around the country. You’d get on a coach and find a way to get to Canvey Island or whatever it was.
But for me, as a young boy, there were those two elements—going to a club or a dance, an all-dayer and dancing to a DJ (which is normal in 2021, but wasn’t so much then) and then there was the band thing going on. It was probably the first scene that had those two elements feeding off each other and strengthening themselves. Which meant it didn’t need to have the mainstream media or the rock media or the radio to support it.
Suddenly these records that were being made were entering the chart on their own merits without the support of media. And then you’d see Hi Tension on the TV on Top of the Pops and be like ‘where the fuck did this come from?!’ So, to me, it was quite exciting.
The reason for Bluey is because he is the foundation of that entire movement. He was a founding member of Freeez, Light Of The World and he was obviously Incognito, and he had another group called Warriors that were great. He was part of Central Line and wrote some of the best songs from that era. So obviously he is as close as there is to someone who epitomizes it.
He embodies it, really.
He does, but what I also love about Bluey is that he has that history, but he’s gone on for the last 30 or 40 years to become a very important mentor for and influence for Black British music and diverse music in this country. Whether it’s working with Maxi Priest or Loose Ends or bringing through singers or going off to produce people like George Benson at that higher level (from a more global point of view), he’s like a very uncelebrated icon. There wouldn’t be a Jazzie B or a Carl McIntosh without a Bluey and so, from my point of view, a big part of this is to celebrate him and to almost get the history right. A lot of history hasn’t included him and this essential part of British culture.
But most important of all, I love the music! The music was obviously influenced by American funk bands and world music, but it had a kind of punky approach to things. They would have these little chants—it was a little bit of a punky attitude to vocals or complete escapism and just dreaming off into the distance. For me, it was joyful and that’s why I feel good about this record because we touched upon some of those little magic formulas that can only come out of that era.
It is such an underrepresented and neglected era, but it feels like it’s on the verge of being awakened. I just watched the BBC documentary with Rodney P about it and here we are talking about your new record with Bluey that obviously captures those same feelings. For me it feels like the perfect time of year to release the album. The music is generally positive and filled with possibilities and hope, much like Spring awakenings. What do you think makes the music so positive?
We didn’t really get into the lyrics too much on this album—I just let Bluey get on with his quiet, positive lyrics because he has always been about that. I think that there’s room for some more subversive lyrics in jazz funk. Freeez were a bit like that, a bit more subversive. Even with groups like Hi Tension, there was a lot of Black British pride—“British Hustle” and so on.
In fact, yesterday I did a Brit Funk special on Worldwide Radio and found a load of different tracks to play and I’m not saying it was like Benjamin Zephaniah or Anti-Nazi League stuff, but there was a sense of some different lyrical ideas. There might be a little bit more of that on the next record that we’re currently doing, but this one is about optimism and good vibes.
For me as a DJ, I like to keep it dark but set it up for the final release for extra potency. It's the moment when you play “Never Too Much” by Luther Vandross or “Lovely Day” by Bill Withers when everyone in the club comes together. You don’t want it like that all night—you don’t want sugar all the time!
It’s always about balance, isn’t it? Always. I just wanted to catch up on your formative years in the genre first time around. There are a couple of things I‘ve read that I wanted to ask about. Is it right that when you were a teenager you would be the one running around putting transmitters up for pirate radio stations?
Yeah, yeah. Pirate radio was quite a big part of my process. In a way what shaped me as a DJ was being entangled in that nerdy, inner London, pirate radio world that connected with a Black London. I was working on a radio station called Radio Invicta 94.4 and they were like the first pirate radio station to play Black music. Although the people at the station were mainly white, the clubs they’d end up playing in were in places like Streatham or in London, as opposed to the clubs you were playing at as part of the soul scene which would be much more suburban (and white) in places like Kent and Essex or Caister for the weekender. Maybe you’d go to Highgate and other London boroughs, but it was still much more diverse than I’d ever experienced in Sutton, but it wasn’t the same as going to “The Cat’s Whiskers” in Streatham or Electric Ballroom in Camden, where on a Friday night you’d be the only white person in the room.
For me, pirate radio shaped me and got me into that world. But at the same time, I was playing, as the ‘80s progressed, in the Soho West End clubs that were influenced by the style magazines that were popping up at that time like iD and The Face. So, I held a fairly unique place in playing all three of the circuits—which were all separate independent circuits and that shaped me to make me who I am.
And throw into that the International scene, because as I became a “name,” I found that most of the work I was getting was outside of London in Bristol or Brighton or in Paris or Germany. So, I was probably one of the first DJs that was going out every week abroad and doing all of that stuff.
Going back to the pirate radio stuff, it made me understand a world that I would never otherwise have been able to understand and because I was 17 and wasn’t doing very well at school, I was completely obsessed with records. I had my turntable and my mixer, and I was off doing any gig I could get and was basically the one who had a car, so if a transmitter needed putting up, I could go and do it! They’d give me the keys to the roof, and I’d organize the links and put the aerials up. It was interesting!
That’s definitely one word for it! I wonder what was it that started your lifelong love affair with records? It’s clear from other interviews that you have thousands upon thousands of them, but what started it?
I had this weird set up where my mum and dad were both foreign. My dad was Swiss and my mum was French and we lived in south London, but they sent us to a French school in South Kensington as mum wanted to keep that French connection going for us as we spoke French at home as well. Then when I was 10, for some mad reason, they decided to put me in an English school. They obviously weren’t happy with me jumping on the train from Sutton to South Kensington every day!
So as a ten-year-old, I had to learn how to speak English properly and write properly to get into this school to pass my 11 plus. I managed to squeeze into the school and when I got there and was thrown into this English system, the first thing I realized was that I needed to become part of a “tribe.” You were either going to be into groups like Rainbow—there were always those kids into rock. There were a couple of punks because that was starting to happen, and in my school, there were three “soul boys” and they were into jazz funk and one of them, my friend Andrew, his sister had a Bobby Caldwell and an Earth, Wind & Fire record and that's what I was listening to when I was 12. I went from Bobby Caldwell’s “What You Won’t Do For Love” to Level 42 and through all of that. And that was it—I’d found my thing.
Another interview you did, you spoke about the time you had George Clinton in your basement for an interview and he didn’t want to leave. Did you ever imagine as teenager that you’d find yourself in that position?
No, it is amazing. I think one of the things with lockdown that has been timely for me is I desperately needed a break from the travel, which I hadn’t stopped doing since I was 16, nearly 40 years ago. I didn’t realize I needed a break, but it has made me appreciate that it’s still a hobby for me. We’ve had Lonnie Liston Smith perform in the back garden, we had Roy Ayers living with us for a while, Chaka Khan came down and the new generation too. That’s the great thing, you know, Anderson .Paak, Kamasi Washington, Flying Lotus and Thundercat—there’s such a great movement right now.
For me, the magic is that I’ve been able to carry on celebrating and championing music (including British music) but the old lot, the legends want me to interview them! I’ve become like Paul Gambacini or whispering Bob Harris! I’m really happy with that, there is no bigger pleasure than spending a couple of hours with these guys. I spent a lot of time recently with Gary Bartz who played with Miles (Davis) and those jazz guys are absolutely amazing, and to spend time with them is magical.
I always think about the documentary with Quincy Jones. Obviously, he is almost the pinnacle of the idea given the vast experience that he has, but these stories have to be told and passed down because the wisdom is too great to lose.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, absolutely. I always say to people if you get the chance to go and see Pharoah Sanders live, this is being almost able to touch that generation. It will never happen again. It’s like being into football and seeing Maradona play or something. From my point of view, I’m gutted if I don’t get the chance to talk to someone. When George Duke died a couple of years ago, I was so disappointed not to have had the chance to interview him. Last week I interviewed Archie Shepp, which was amazing! It was great to grab half an hour with him, but how can you have just half an hour with these people?!
I’ve been doing some research for another project and one of the stumbling blocks for UK soul music has been the lack of a supportive ecosystem for the music to find more appreciation. You have successfully built your own ecosystems with record labels and so on—what were your reasons for doing that? Was it to retain control?
For me, I couldn’t operate without being on the radio or DJing in clubs—they’re the two most important things. When it comes to putting records out or producing records, that’s more of an indulgence in a weird way. The bread and butter, from a financial standpoint anyway, has been DJing.
I have never hit the big time, so to speak. I had a record by George Michael that never got put out. I had a label called Hardback Records (it was backed by Morgan Kahn) with a guy called Andros Georgiou and we put out three records that didn’t do very well, but it was good fun. Then on the fourth record, Morgan says he can’t back us anymore, so Andros says to me his cousin will sing a song in secret for us and I was unsure, but he was like “its George Michael, it’ll be fine.” It was a version of the Bee Gees’ “Jive Talkin’” and it needed five grand each and we’d put it out. But I thought I couldn’t have anything to do with George Michael, it might damage my reputation (laughs). Anyway, he had a huge international hit with it, so from that point on I was always sure that something massive was never going to happen to me!
My whole thing has always been about being the underdog. It’s great to win a Mercury Prize like we did with Roni Size (for 1997’s New Forms), but even with the acid jazz thing, we were always the DJ in the back room, never the main event, so to speak. So, when Acid Jazz (the label) came along, I thought about how to make more people aware of Art Blakey and The Jazz Messengers, but also the crazy music coming out of Detroit. How do you mix it all together? It actually took 30 years!
At the time, it was a good name and a good idea, but it never really happened. A lot of the acid jazz bands that came out of that were actually just funk bands or jazz funk bands, but they weren’t really what my dream of it was, which was something a lot more mad. But watching The Comet Is Coming at a festival a couple of years ago I was like ‘this is Acid Jazz!’
That's what you had envisaged in your head back then?
It took 30 years to get to that point. It’s taken that long to get to where we are in the last couple of years. So, to answer your question, I’ve just always felt I had to do all of it, especially being on the radio. My approach has always been to try to bring the energy from the club to the radio show. Authentic clubs. That's very important to me—it’s part of who I am as an artist. It’s seven-hour sets in Sapporo or Berlin.
As I’ve got older and especially through this lockdown, I wonder how the fuck I have kept doing it for so long. A year ago, I was DJing in Graz (Austria) on the Friday night from midnight till 2am, then heading to Vienna airport which was an hour away. Getting an hour-and-a-half sleep until getting the first plane back to the UK at 7am, landing in London about 10am before having to go straight to the radio studio, as there was no time to chill at home, and doing my set at 3pm till 6pm before heading out to do another DJ set that evening!
Now, I would never, ever do that again! The point of it for me, is that this is what I am and my authenticity comes from bringing that energy to the radio and mixing it with whatever else is going on with emerging music. I’ve never really had a game plan—I live from week to week, from year to year. I was saying to my assistant that I feel a bit strange because tomorrow I’m playing the whole of the Pharoah Sanders/Floating Points album on air to make a bit of a statement and playing some live stuff for the 6Music festival. But it is frustrating because I’m getting so much new music at the moment and I won’t get a chance to play it because of those things. I’ve never had so much music landing.
So, every time I go to the radio on a Saturday and I get a chance to unleash that music, I feel a sense of relief and then I can go again! But tomorrow I can’t unleash it because I’m going to play the other things!
One of the projects that you’ve had and mentioned briefly was Talkin’ Loud. That recently had its 30-year anniversary—how does it feel knowing that it was 30 years ago? Does it feel like it was that long ago?
I have been trying to speak to them (the people who own all the music) and it’s been on my mind for quite a while that the label is not very well represented on Spotify and the other streaming services. They have the hits, but they don’t have the other “between the cracks” music, of which there is a lot. I keep saying to them that we should get it sorted and put it in some kind of order before I forget.
If I listen to the Young Disciples album, I am incredibly proud of that. We put out some significant stuff, not all of which did well. There was an artist called Bryan Powell who put an album out called Natural and it was so good. There was another artist called Jeffrey Darnell who put some stuff out, but there was a song that never came out that I managed to find a white label of and kept it for myself. I bet it’s worth a few quid! I’m very proud of what we achieved there.
I knew the most successful, headline acts from the label, but one name always catches my eye and jumps out at me and that is Terry Callier. He and his music are so close to my heart and I wanted to know how you felt about him.
Well, Terry was brilliant, and I obviously had a very, very special relationship with him, including going back to his apartment in Chicago and spending time with him. At the time, he actually gave me a copy of What Color Is Love where it was a double album with Charles Stepney interludes in between songs.
All of this has been a mad learning curve from organizing coach trips to clubs/venues in North London to going to America with The Young Disciples album, walking into Mercury Records and trying to sell new British soul music to Ed Eckstein’s son Guy—the real heavyweight music executives.
So, I’ve had all those experiences, going out trying to sign Steve Coleman or working with The Roots, you know. I put out the first Roots record in the UK because I was just absolutely crazy about them and their record and I went to New York to try and sign them. In fact, they actually felt sorry for me a little bit because I had a really bad tooth ache at the time, but Questlove and Richard Nicholls, their manager at the time, were signing to Wendy Goldstein at Warners.
So, I’ve done so much, but it’s always really difficult working with people that you really admire or are a fan of. I’ve had some less than positive experiences because you don’t want to give them too much expectation either because they may have been thrown to the wayside. It’s us as collectors and super music fans in Europe or Japan who rediscover these artists and tell them how amazing they are while they are busy being computer programmers or whatever. So, you have to go in gently and lessen expectation.
It was also quite a volatile situation at Mercury Records at the time—to work with Terry, I had to work with a person from Verve in America to make sure he had a really good distribution deal in America because all he cared about was for his daughters to hear his music on American radio. As much as we loved him in the UK because of his cosmic Cadet stuff, he was really just into being able to make an emotional folk soul record. I was lucky to work with Brian Bacchus and Chuck Mitchell at Verve and convince them to do the deal. I didn’t sign Terry, I got him signed to Verve and then I released the records from Verve and helped with the A&R. I didn’t sign him, but certainly helped bring it to fruition.
You know some artists are picked up and once the label has had their 2000 records sold, they put them to one side again, but that’s never been the case with me and the artists I‘ve worked with. There’s a human being there after all, especially with the elders like Terry.
I managed to get to see him a number of times at the Jazz Café and Forum in Kentish Town and he always seemed perfectly happy and content on stage. Not showy or flashy, but happy to be playing and to share the stage with his band. Was that your impression of him too?
You know, Terry had tough times. I think he found a good family here in the end. A really good manager and people like Jim Mullen playing with him on guitar and he had a good band who loved him, but he was quite a complex man. He’d had some issues with record labels and all kinds of stuff in the past.
I remember going to see him at the Jazz Café once and he was pissed off that the record hadn’t arrived. We’d released it, but the Americans hadn’t, I can’t quite remember but something had gone awry. I remember he was so honest, that was his thing, wasn’t it? You could connect to him when he was performing. And then he started to talk about the record company and although he wasn’t having a go at me, everyone in the building thought he was, unaware that he was moaning about the Americans! The whole room (or what felt like it) turned to me and I felt so bad. But he was a true artist and I really, really miss him and I’m glad he worked with Beth (Orton) and Massive Attack and a few other things.
He did something with Paul Weller didn’t he?
Yeah, Paul Weller. He truly got rediscovered and I felt really happy to have helped that happen.
We’ve spoken a little about the realization you’ve come to regarding your non-stop lifestyle and how untenable it may be in the future. COVID has obviously decimated touring and with that allied to the miserly rewards from streaming sites, how do you see the industry proceeding once things return to a kind of normality? Will we see a new normal? Or will things go back to the way they were?
I really don’t know. I think that I’m mostly concerned about the current generation that has been really unfortunate. Every year, there’s a turnover of new blood and it keeps this dynamic moving forward. In the UK especially, there’s an ongoing, constant reimagining of music and such rivalry and competition for the rewards. It’s hardcore here and it’s very difficult, but it creates what for a small country is a huge cultural impact. I just don’t know what will happen.
I’m very glad that some music on the fringes—jazz and other stuff, has been able to stake a claim and have found a way to monetize what they do. It feels like there’s a lot more going on from a jazz point of view. Whether that is ending up in their pocket or not, I don’t know, but when I see Yussef Dayes or Moses Boyd or Nubya Garcia or Sarathy Korwar or Shabaka (Hutchings) and they’re doing so well on an international stage, it fills me with such deep joy. I see clubs like Church Of Sound or Total Refreshment and all these new places that have created communities that can come together and grow and be profitable, authentic and don’t need funding and it is amazing. I hope it manages to survive.
The actual transfer of money, how to survive and do gigs and what goes on is a mystery, really. Community is the key, really, and any “scene” needs platforms and that's what I try to do with Worldwide Radio. We can join communities together so whenever I see a community putting on bands, having the DJ and putting on some food, doing their own flyers and they’re managing to make ends meet, that's what makes it worthwhile. There are more people making music now, than ever before—people are going to have to realize that it’s going to have to be a hobby for a while longer. That's what many of us are realizing at the moment.
Tough times indeed. I think you’re right though. Community is a massive thing, not just in terms of organization, but also keeping energy moving forward.
Yeah, energy is right. It’s about making sure that there’s room for all ages to feel part of it. It's the opposite of what STR4TA is, because that is a nostalgic project, looking back on a golden era. But here’s the funny thing about it as well and I sound like John Peel at this point, but I have a definite younger set of listeners for the project. People are discovering this music and that's why I kept the project secret for a year or so because I didn’t want people to know it would be a couple of over 50-year-olds! So, we did it as a mystery!
This morning, having listened to the album a couple of times, I started to play it again, but this time interspersed with songs from the original era. I played some from the Incognito album from 1981 (Jazz Funk) and the Level 42 album from the same year (Level 42) and it was such a good fit. The album really sat alongside those releases beautifully.
That’s great. You know Brit Funk ranged from Light Of the World to Freeez and Atmosphere. I loved Hi Tension. That first album was brilliant because they were such good players, in fact that’s how Spandau Ballet came to be where they were—they used their playing on early records. Personally, I love that Atmosphere album Entrance. Its slightly more fucked up! So, we’ll try to push it more that way.
We’ve got some great guests on the next album, I can’t tell you who, but we’ve got them! We’ve got some Americans interested as well.
I am going to finish off with the question we ask all interviewees, given that we are all about celebrating the album as an art form. What are your Top 5 albums of all time?
Let me think. I always say the same ones! I would say Speak No Evil by Wayne Shorter is one I go back to over and over again. Blues And The Abstract Truth by Oliver Nelson could be there too. Also given our conversation today, Places And Spaces by Donald Byrd. I would say What Color Is Love by Terry Callier as an all ‘round thing. From a female perspective, I’d say Who Is Jill Scott? Of course, this isn’t my top 5, but it’s what I’d listen to right now. What other category is there? Give me a category?
Well given it’s been a theme of the chat, how about something more “fucked up?”
You know what record I discovered recently and thought it was a masterpiece? Soft Machine III. The one with “Out-bloody-rageous” on it. You know, Robert Wyatt, they don’t get the credit they deserve! Wow!
I haven’t done any world music…you know there’s a record which is really amazing and I always go back to it. It’s not very well known, but I think they‘re reissuing it—it’s by a Brazilian artist called Jose Mauro. Put that in there, it’s called Obnoxius. This guy is the Brazilian Nick Drake who only made one record and then disappeared. Everyone thought he’d died. He’s a bit like Arthur Verucai who has just done some production on the new Hiatus Kaiyote album. Anyway, it did nothing in Brazil and got rediscovered by DJs in Brazil 30 years later and so everyone started looking for him. There were rumors he’d had a car crash and other crazy things but then Joe Davis (who runs Far Out Records, an amazing label) found Mauro a couple of years ago living alone in the middle of nowhere. They realized with time that there were extra tracks, so they’re going to reissue it with them all.
Let’s get rid of Oliver Nelson, go back to Wayne Shorter. And, oh, I can’t put one of my records on it!
You can put whatever you want on it!
Put Nuyorican Soul on there! It’s like the ultimate A&R job for me. And that is 25 years old next year and there’s talk of Kenny and Louie coming back and performing it.
That would be amazing. I absolutely love the George Benson one on there.
“You Can Do It Baby.” Is that five? I’m not sure now!
Probably half a dozen or so, but I’m sure we can swing it for you!
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