Gilles Peterson began life running a pirate station from a local phone box in south London. In the late eighties, he was instrumental in the birth of acid jazz. Today, Gilles has a late-night show on Radio 1, the UK's nationally-owned pop station, which is syndicated to scores of radio stations around the world. 

What was the first record you ever bought?
I do remember going in to a shop and buying Blondie ‘Denis’ and Electric Light Orchestra ‘Mr. Blue Sky’. I was getting into the punk thing and, later on, listening to bands like Young Marble Giants. But at the same time discovering jazz funk.

How did that happen?
Pirate radio, through a friend of mine. I was basically a typical school kid, middle class parents, living in the suburbs in south London, nothing to do with music in my house. Father’s from Switzerland (Zurich), mother’s from France (Paris). I was living in a continental household in the UK, attending the French Lycée. Then I started going to English school when I was about 12. No music, just sport for me. And then a friend of mine, his sister was a soul girl and he had a good record collection at home, so I’d hang out with him. He was cool, you know. He’d buy his clothes from the Kings Road. Take me to a couple of pubs that played jazz funk and he had records like David Bendeth ‘Feel The Real’. And he introduced me to jazz funk, to pubs that played that kind of music, to pirate radio and Robbie Vincent and Greg Edwards. So I was babysitting for the neighbours and listening to Greg Edwards on a Friday live from the Lyceum. Listening to Robbie Vincent and his jazz funk 40. Popping up to Kings Road and buying a pair of leather pegs. Growing a wedge. Listening to Slave and Earth, Wind & Fire and the Jones Girls.

Then I discovered Radio Invicta which was really a huge influence for me, and I was tuning into pirate radio in general. And it was a very exciting time for pirate radio, not just the music, Invicta had the music, but it also had the danger as well. Suddenly, radio seemed interesting to me. Eventually with my friend Andrew hiring a Citronic mixer as I was studying for my O levels. My parents found out, because the turntables were in the garden shed, and were really distraught about it, because they were obviously hoping I’d have an education and realised it was all going wrong. I was doing the weddings, the Bah Mitzvahs and organising an under 16s party at St. Andrews Church in Belmont, where I’d play the whole of the Light Of The World album! Made a few quid.

What was the reaction to this?
I don’t know! Before I knew it I was doing a residency at Claret’s Win Bar in Cheam, which is still there actually. Then we’d arrange coach trips to the Royalty in Southgate or go to the Goldmine. Started building up on that Sutton Soul Patrol thing. Going to Caister and being part of that culture and doing a bit of DJing on the side.

What do you remember about going to places like the Goldmine?
I just remember it being totally exciting and there being a mixture of people in there. To me it was quite multicultural. Going to those things there were ... Girls! It was exciting, it was something that no-one else was into. It was my secret. It was a little like listening to pirate radio, which was also a bit elitist. It was difficult to explain it to anyone else, which is what made it so special, that tribal element of it. That whole thing about travelling up, which had a parallel with the whole M25 rave thing, the fact that you were going up there and listening to Chris Hill, playing Eruption or Tania Maria.

At the same time as this, I was really caught up by Brit-funk. So I must have been Level 42’s biggest fan, I used follow them wherever they were playing. I’d hitch hike back from Guildford and I remember one night trying to get backstage at the Fairfield Halls in Croydon. Then meeting Mark King, which was the ultimate buzz. I phoned up Elite Records at the time and Andy Sojke - who’s departed now of course - he was the first person who sent me a promo record.

Did he run Elite as well as record for it?
Yeah, I think it was his label. He sent me a white label with ‘Sandstorm’ on one side and Powerline ‘Double Journey’ on the other. That’s a fucking rare record now, I bet. I remember talking to Steve Ripley at CBS and he started giving me a few bit and pieces. I was doing my mobile discos and making enough money to buy the records that were coming out every week on import.

How did you get into the mobile DJing?
As I said, with my friend Andrew, we went and bought a Citronic Thames mixer/double deck on hire purchase.

Did you have speakers as well?
Oh yeah. And we got the Thames which was then the best mixer that Citronic did. We’d heard about the 1200s, but we’d never seen them. I remember going to the Bridge pub in Sutton, which was where people like Barry Stone used to go, those sort of DJs. It was very much that south London, Steve Walsh, sort of scene.

Did you go to places like Frenchies?
Yeah, and of course the Belvedere in Camberley. It was such an intense period that you were discovering these things within weeks of each other. Cat’s Whiskers in Streatham which was suddenly a much more urban thing. The way I separated it was it was a Blues & Soul thing as opposed to a Black Echoes thing. There was the Mafia, which was Pete Tong, Jeff Young, Caister. Then there was the Black Echoes thing which was DJs like Steve Walsh and a more urban crowd. That was my introduction into that more urban world,. Then Blues & Soul that was the more comfortable world, of Pete Tong, Sean French and going to that place in Tooley St., the Swan & Sugarloaf.

What was the difference that you noticed between the two, was it racial?
There was a more racial element. In a way it was more dangerous to go to Streatham, because the suburban thing was what I was relating to more from my upbringing. To me DJs like Steve Devonne and Trevor Shakes, those kind of DJs, but particularly Steve, because it was just dirty funk. He’d play the brand new Cameo record ahead of Robbie Vincent. When Caister moved to Bognor Regis, I think, and they invited me to DJ, that was a huge moment for me.

What year was that?
I’d have to look it up. I was about 18 or 19. It all went very quickly from doing weddings, to doing the Claret wine bar, to suddenly having my own little pirate station, after I bought a little transmitter. My next door neighbour was really into pirate radio and he was really into John Peel, so he’d have all of the Clash records and I’d have all of the Robbie Vincent type stuff. So I bought a transmitter and we used to record stuff on to tape in the garden shed with my Citronic mixer and then broadcast it from the top of the road. There was a tree that would get us about a half a mile radius from, Sutton. A few months later, I convinced my dad to drive us up to Epsom Downs where obviously it was quite a bit higher and we’d connect the transmitter to the car battery, to an aerial on the highest tree and we’d pick up phone calls from the local telephone box while my dad sat in the pub. We’d get one call and it’d be incredible!

How did you build the material for a pirate station?
Well, it was easy, you just got a transmitter. I used to go to pirate radio meetings, where all the local pirate radio stations would meet up to discuss tactics and how to get away with it. That’s how I met an engineer who, for £25-30, built me a little rig. So I get a phone call from Invicta who’d lost all of their equipment in a raid recently and had heard about this lad called Gilles. And also, I had wheels, you know, I had a Mini, and I had the enthusiasm of a hundred kids. I was annoying. Next thing I know, I’m going up tower blocks in Leyton and putting aerials up with them and waiting to be busted. Eventually they gave me a show.

Did you ever get busted?
Yeah. I wasn’t up the tower block when we got busted. Suddenly we’d be off the air so we’d look out the window and there’d be Eric, I think his name was, the guy from the Home Office, taking the gear down. Another time I was doing a station later on with Chris Phillips, who’s now on Kiss and Jez Nelson called K-Jazz, which we used to broadcast from Crystal Palace at the time when LWR was pretty much the monopoly station in south London. We got busted, and we quickly ran up to our site in Crystal Palace only to be confronted by some bad boys. It wasn’t the Old Bill, it was another pirate station. In other words, LWR.

I did K-Jazz in between Radio London and having worked on Solar and Horizon. Cos when Invicta finished I went to work for Horizon. But then we all fell out with Christian who was the megalomaniacal boss of Horizon Radio, so we split from him to create Solar Radio. Horizon was a magical station at the time because it was one of the first 24 hour stations, before Kiss. I’d do the all night shows, because I was the young kid who was fucking around, along with Jez. I played Tommy Tate through to jazz funk. For me radio’s always been my primary thing. I just wished I’d taped everything I’d done. I’ve only started taping things three years ago when I started on Radio 1. Just to see where my head was at. At that time, you didn’t realise what a career it would be. It was just a period in my life when I’d fucked up my studies but I was earning enough to live (my parents had gone back to Switzerland), I was 18 years old, renting a flat in south London. I didn’t know where that would lead in a few years’ time, but I had this burning feeling inside that I was going to be alright, although my family was concerned.

What advice would you give a youngster about how to get into radio?
It’s so hard, especially right now. There’s two kinds of radio, there’s radio to be a broadcaster, and there’s radio to be a music programmer. If you wanna be a broadcaster, I can’t tell you what to do apart from be true to yourself and try and find out who you are, rather than someone else. It took me years to be me on the radio because I’d been influenced by so many DJs that I wanted to sound like, like Robbie Vincent or Chris Hill. Most importantly, believe in what you play. I don’t think I’d be a DJ now if I was 18. I don’t think I’d want to do it, because I don’t think I’d have that excitement. If you want to be successful now, you almost have to have a marketing team and a PR company behind you.

How did the acid jazz thing come about?
Well, acid jazz, well… OK, I was the weird little alternative DJ playing in the back rooms with the Nicky Holloways. Me and Bangsy. Bangsy was Eric Morecambe, and I was Ernie Wise. He was a real hero of mine. He was funny, he was eccentric, he was quirky, he had fantastic musical taste. He sold me my first overpriced records. He found this crazy little kid with a lot of enthusiasm. He was definitely my mentor. And we’d do a lot of things together. I got myself into playing at places like Electric Ballroom, which was more a London thing. Then I’d do loads of these one-offs like the Doos At The Zoos, and it was basically Bangsy and me that would do it together, we were like a double act. We’d get dressed up, we’d play quirky stuff like ‘Tequila’ by Edmundo Ros through to ‘Cerveza’ by Boots Randolph, through to ‘Iron Leg’. It was that sort of eclectic set, with plenty of humour. That’s what I thought was great about Bangsy. Suddenly we were going to Ibiza, before they’d all taken ecstasy, and Corfu.

And then they all came back with ecstasy. We’d always been regarded as the kind of weird and eccentric bohemian types. We prided ourselves on that. We were the ones who smoked weed. We nearly got sacked from the Royal Oak on numerous occasions for being a bit rebellious. We weren’t beer boys and it was a beer boy scene at that time. So it was a bit of a shock when they all came back and were suddenly sitting in speakers at Rockleigh Sands on ecstasy! From my point of view, I didn’t get ‘on’ it until I was at a Boy’s Own party a year later. Which I’m really pleased about, because I don’t know what the fuck would have happened to me if I had then. Musically, I don’t know where I’d have gone.

I remember very clearly being at Rockleigh Sands doing a radio thing. And we went into in the studio, this was before E. Danny Rampling was doing his set and Jimmy Jewell, don’t know if you know Jimmy Jewell, but he was an early character from that Shoom time. Danny was just a B DJ at that time. We turned up wearing bandanas, and stoned, reading William Burroughs, we just got on that trip, which was funny and we half believed it as well. I can remember seeing them looking at us wondering where the hell we were at, but within a year it had all changed!

Acid jazz happened when Bangsy and me were playing at the Waterman’s Art Centre in Brentford. A one-off gig by Nicky Holloway. I think Paul Oakenfold or Pete Tong were DJing. It was all ‘get on one, matey’ and it was banging acid house. They’d just got back from Ibiza, and they were introducing stuff like Phuture ‘Acid Trax’ and all that stuff. Bangsy and I were like, ‘what the fuck are we gonna play’, because it was different; something had changed. So Bangsy pulled out ‘Iron Leg’ by Mickey & the Soul Generation, put the record on, and “Fuck that, if that was acid house, this is acid jazz!"

That was acid jazz. It was a joke. Suddenly, with Bangsy humour and everything, we started putting a beret and goatee beard on the smiley face and we were putting on these Cock Happy parties, the first of which was at the Cock Tavern, which is in that market where Fabric is. That’s the first, shall we say, acid jazz party, where ecstasy spirit of that scene, but the musical soundtrack was different. We were playing funk, rare groove, a bit of acid house, batucadas: ‘Celebration Suite’ Airto, Phuture ‘Acid Trax’, Funk Incorporated ‘Chicken Lickin’’. We took the party from there to Lauderdale House in Highgate with a view on the park. Then a lot of the Shoom crowd, who’d already started getting pissed off with the whole stereotype of that scene, we started getting the Chris Butlers and Jimmy Jewells coming to our parties. It was like an alternative acid party with a different soundtrack, and the Lauderdale House parties were really classic parties.

Were they druggy?
Yeah, they were. We’d had an element of the druggy crowd and we’d have some of the old spliff crowd. It really was spliff versus E at that time. Then we’d have Rob Galliano in the room upstairs with a red light flashing on and off and playing with one turntable, more of the Shaka type DJing, playing reggae. Throughout all of this period I was playing at the Belvedere Arms in Richmond on a Sunday and I didn’t want what I was representing to become northern soul. It wasn’t all about old music. The same people would come throughout the whole of this period, Danny Rampling, Rocky & Diesel, anyway. I remember going to The Trip and it blew my mind.

What was your impression of going there?
Incredible. It really was. It was amazing. Within a few months the whole thing had just totally changed. I must admit, I did need to take an E to know what it was all about. I did that at a Boy’s Own party around Guildford. I went and sat in the car with my girlfriend for five hours. I remember people knocking on the car window at five in the morning going, “Gilles, you’ve got to play some records” and I was like, “No way, man, this is too good!”. I opened the boot to get my records out and - the classic quote - “oh, my records, my beautiful records”. I never actually got round to playing records that day. Then I remember going to Dingwalls and having another little nibble and… jazz has never sounded the same really! You had to know why there was this change. It was important for me to understand that.
Do you remember the first time you heard house?
Well, it’s difficult, because there was always the disco thing and I regard that as house, really. You know, Geraldine Hunt ‘Can’t Fake The Feeling’, Firefly… Seeing the jazz dancers dancing to Phuture’s ‘Acid Trax’ was a real trip for me. Other records were quite crucial to me, too, like Universal Robot Band’s ‘Barely Breaking Even’. Leroy Burgess. Fingers Inc.

What was the reaction to house from some of those jazz guys? Were they into it?
No. It was radical. Dingwalls, I don’t think I’ve done a better club. Cos it was on a Sunday, you’d get the post-rave crowd, we’d get the Bukems, a really wicked mulitcultural scene. We’d start with two hours of jazz, the IDJs, the Brothers In Jazz, they were all there. And then we’d put on a band, Dave Pike, Roy Ayers. Then from three until six, it was a mixture of rare groovy things, Linda Williams ‘Elevate Your Mind’, into jazz, classics, through to De La Soul, and then records like 808 State ‘Pacific State’, which was a crucial record for Dingwalls because it had that ambient jazz intro. Yeah, it would piss people off, but that was good. I remember playing ‘Fight The Power’ by Public Enemy and people were like, ‘Gilles is playing fucking hip hop! It’s wrong!’ But the club kept getting more popular and those people didn’t leave. They slowly got more and more into it. We would play Elvin Jones at five o’clock to claps at the end and then play ‘Can You Feel It?’ by Fingers Inc.

Tell me about the time you came on after Carl Cox in Ibiza?
Well, it was probably my most freaky experience as a disc jockey and a big turning point for me, too. I’d been asked to play at Space on the terrace on Sunday night and finish off the Radio 1 weekend in real style, in a pure Balearic way. I thought, ‘actually that’s a bit dodgy’ because I knew what it was like on a Sunday, but they said it would be alright as long as there’s a big space between the DJs. As we arrived in the car park at Space we could hear people cheering. Carl Cox was still on. I’ve got to do a radio show, live to the UK, from fucking Ibiza. It’s me on the decks and I’ve got to follow this. I’m freaking out. The closest record I’ve got is the Herbert remix of Moloko’s ‘Sing It Back’! Carl Cox saw me coming and he was, like, ‘you can’t be serious?!’. But there’s no escaping. So I had to go on and the first half hour was extremely difficult.

What did you do when he finished?
I let his record play out and then played the most mad, weird record that I had. A weird, tripped out future jazz tune with a long intro. And watched people’s faces just drop. Suddenly, they’re like ‘what’s happening?’ I got on the mic, sounded nervous; like I was shitting it. And the reaction was basically: Fuck off. You cunt. Finally, when it had dropped from 800 to 150, we actually had a really good party. It taught me as a DJ that you don’t need to be frightened. I dealt with that situation. Not particularly well, but I dealt with it and I didn’t die. Ever since then, I’ve been far more confident about who I am and what I am. I spent a long time during that house period thinking, “Shit, I can’t mix!” when really I can and it’s not difficult. Now, I’m like fuck it, if I get it wrong, I get it wrong. I’m not going to try and be Carl Cox or DJ Marky.

How do you approach coming on after someone?
Well, to a degree, I’m finding that other DJs are preparing for me more… If someone’s banging it hard and there’s 1,000 people going nuts at some festival. I just go and play something mad. Rather than try and follow through from where they’re at, I’d rather start again and create my story. I’d give it a few sound effects, start off slow and create my own little patterns, really. It’s like Norman [Jay]. Norman will just get on the mic. ‘How are you?’ he’ll ask them. People are coming to hear you because you are you, so let them know you’re there.

What do you think makes a good DJ?
A good DJ is someone who can relate to the audience. I think that’s really key. Someone who gets inside and connects with the energy and ambience that’s there to take it wherever they want to take it. A fantastic DJ is someone who can take it from nothing to somewhere.

Now what about your show on Radio 1…
You know things are changing in America now. The amount of hits and downloads we get from America through Radio 1 is enormous. I can fill a club in America now on the basis of my radio show here, because they listen to me on the net.

Can you gauge how many listen?
No, but we get loads of emails. You know, I’m drivetime in LA! I’m on KCLW there, so I’ve been building my little thing up through the radio. Because you’re playing something a little bit different you need to let people know the basis of your music. Radio’s always been hugely important for what I do, because you can play something a little bit weird on the radio, so in a UK club they would know it. You know, I keep getting invited to DJ over there at Body & Soul and Kevorkian’s said he’s not going to invite any English DJs over until I do it, but I’m just too frightened to do it. I’m stupid and I should just get over it. But those guys like me and how I am because of what I play. But… this eclectic DJ thing, you’ve got to get it right too, you know. It doesn’t mean I can play the Specials followed by Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers. There is an art in doing that which I’ve been able to get to a fine point over the years.

For you is it about finding links between different styles and genres and transmitting that to the crowd?
I guess that’s quite a big part of it. You can do it without it being as brutal as that. It’s not about playing two of this, two of that. Sometimes it goes dreadfully wrong as well. Like in Centro-Fly in New York. That DJ booth just killed me. I’d been touring, I’d been playing well, but I got into that DJ box and I was disconnected from the crowd. I’m not Erick Morillo, I can’t do it in there. I just wanted the decks on the stage so I could touch the audience.

How important is it to be physically near to the dancefloor?
For me it’s crucial because I guess I’m not technically good enough to just bang it out and not be seen. I need people to see me and feel what I’m doing. You know, Americans are great. They’re much less critical than in the UK. I do believe that if you can do it in London, you can do it anywhere, because in London they’ll let you know. If you’re no good, they’re not going to come. London’s high pressure. I still have the odd nightmare gig, but I think you need to have that as a DJ.

It’s been easier lately with Radio 1 being around the country. It’s also come at a time when culture is changing. I think kids are tired of Mixmag and Muzik and all those magazines telling them what’s cool and what isn’t cool. Their older brothers and sisters were into Gatecrasher and now they’re into listening to Matthew Herbert remixes and a bit of Mos Def. That’s tripping me out. I’m going round the country and it’s young kids, very young, like the kids who are going to come and listen to me in Newcastle tomorrow night. It’s satisfying.

What’s the biggest crowd you’ve ever played for?
I’ve never done anything ridiculous. 3-4,000.

How would you approach it? Differently?
Last year I did the Big Chill and I DJed on the Friday night. It was a huge tent and there were 3 or 4,000 people and I was the headline DJ and I played a two hour set, finished off with Josh Wink ‘Higher State Of Consciousness’ having played what I play. And it was like a Carl Cox gig, it was a real achievement, because I’d found an audience responding to me. You know, at these festivals, I’ve always been the weird alternative guy. I’ve always said ‘put me on early’, I don’t wanna go on late after fucking Fatboy Slim, Basement Jaxx or whoever.

That festival was the first one in the UK where I got a big buzz from it. The crowd was with me, as opposed to confused by me. And if they’re with you, then you can take them anywhere and suddenly, the whole Larry Levan thing makes sense. It’s all about having a crowd that’s with you. If you’re thrown into an environment where people don’t even understand what you’re about, then it’s not gonna happen. But I’ve found in the last two years particularly, that there is a big audience that understands DJs like me. Norman Jay doesn’t have to play a house set to rock a crowd in Sheffield anymore. He can go and play what Norman Jay plays.

How would you regards pacing a night?
Every night is different. Pacing for me is dynamics, it’s about being able to take people to a point and drop it. Slow it down without losing the crowd, bring it back up so the peaks are strong. For me, I love to warm up my audience. I find it quite cold to go on as a guest DJ at one o’clock. The ultimate for me is starting at 10.30pm and I can start with, you know, George Duke ‘Liberate Fantasies’ and I can take it where I want it.

How important is having a good record collection to being a good DJ?
I think it’s important to be able to look back. To have that kind of back catalogue - as long you know where to find them [his collection’s in a mess]. But… to be a good DJ, I think you’ve really got to be on top of what’s happening right now. I’m going through so much new music right now and to be on top of it is so important. Especially these days when there’s so much music coming. In a way you can be lazy, because there’s so much stuff there’s still going to be something for you, but I think that listening through to anywhere up to 100 records a week is crucial because out of that 100 there’ll be five great ones. Having the back catalogue is great, because you can pull out the connections with the new. The bigger the collection the better. The problem with that is you need to have it organised. My collection’s chaos.

What’s the most extreme thing you’ve ever done to acquire a record?
I’ve spent more money organising bikes and cars to pick up records than I have paying for the actual records. Landslide did a remix for Kaidi Tathum on Bitasweet and I got the guy who did the remix to go and open up his studio, run a CD off and bike it to me just so I could play it for five minutes. I remember calling Simon from Basement Jaxx. I absolutely had to play ‘Deluma’. It was just as they getting quite big and I managed to convince him to bring a copy of the record and leave it on reception for me. As for old music, oh my God.

What’s the most you’ve paid?
Not more than £250.

What advice would you give to a DJ just starting out?
Believe in what you do. Don’t do it for any other reasons than music.

What’s the best advice anyone has given you?
Enjoy it. Be happy. Don’t take it too seriously. People go to clubs because they want get off with people and music’s part of it. Never forget those rules. It’s a night out. So many DJs, I hate playing with because they’re so caught up in what you’re going to play that you can’t relax. Have a laugh. I think it’s important that you take your passion seriously, but as for being better than the next man… Boring.

© DJhistory.com

Interviewed by Bill Brewster in London, 26.2.02