Let’s start with where you grew up.

I grew up in Brixton, London. Music was always around me. My dad was a good record buyer [and he had] brilliant tunes. Not a massive collection, but a great collection of ska, Motown and stuff like that – across the board black music. He loved ballads, too, like Marvin Gaye. Growing up in Brixton, there was a massive blues party scene going on. Round the corner from me there was a place called Elland Park. On a Saturday night, you could have five or six parties going on, all with sound systems. I could hear them from my house. They were in people’s houses, or they used to rig up sound systems in old squats (there were a lot of squats in those days). We used to go to the local blues parties when I was 13 or 14 years old. I had a whale of a time, man. That got me into going out and being in this place with loud music playing. It was great because the blues scene was the original club scene, on one level: using huge sound systems, having MCs, not mixing, but with the whole emphasis on loud sounds.

And this is very much Jamaicans doing over here what they used to do over there.

That’s right – and bringing it over here. We used to go to regular clubs: the sound systems were so crap, and you’d get DJs talking shit all night. “The next one is, A-Ha, ‘Take On Me.’’ It wasn’t like that at all. You’d have the host, the MC and the guy who used to play music – it was kind of like this narration. You weren’t that aware of what was going on, but it was brilliant. Those were my first indulgences in music.

Growing up in Brixton was great because of the vibe. Brixton’s very colorful and you can’t really escape the music thing. Music and crime. You had these two areas where you could go if you didn’t want to do a 9-to-5 job. Either be a criminal or be, not necessarily a DJ, but have something to do with music. There wasn’t no money in it or nothing. It was strictly for breaking premises and having a party till 1PM.

Did people charge [to get into the parties]?

They did. They used to charge like £2 on the door. The whole thing, though, was going in and buying drinks. They used to have a little bar set up and stuff like that. It was all very civilized, but it was also really dangerous because we were mixing with hardened Brixton criminals. You stepped on someone’s lizard skin shoes, man, and it was curtains – for real, serious. It was like Goodfellas. You don’t fuck with these guys.

There was one guy in particular, One Dread. He was so smooth and he used to do this slow rubbing thing with girls. He could dance with a girl and skin up a spliff at the same time. We used to watch him, “He’s the fucking man.” It was this whole mad thing. The dangerous thing was a lot of people wanted to be like them. I did as well, but luckily I was more into music than wanting to go out on the rob.

Was it inseparable?

The DJs were the guys who decided “We want to set up our sound system here, and play our music.” The guys – the criminals – used to follow them around because all the girls used to be there. And, of course, wherever there are nice girls, there are criminals. And it was great: here were these beautiful women that wouldn’t look at you [before these parties]. You never had a chance. We were like 14-years old and they were 21-years old. At around 9AM, they’d slow it down and you had to ask a girl for a dance. I think I had one dance in the three years I was going to blues parties. I was so nervous – I think she walked away halfway through it. It was the earliest memory I have of being captured by the whole club thing. Then things moved on and I got into the whole soul scene.