The Hills Are Alive With The Sound Of Music: Benjamin Myers’ Favourite Music | Page 8 of 14 | The Quietus

Baker's Dozen

Artists discuss the 13 records that shaped their lives

The aforementioned Britpop historians rarely mention that many of us were listening to all sorts of wilfully different music alongside it; it was less a case of Blur vs Oasis, and more a case of Big Black vs Rancid vs Lee Scratch Perry vs New York Dolls. And for me, hearing early jungle was as exciting as when I first saw that footage of Iggy Pop doing ‘The Passenger’, with a horse’s tail attached to his rear. It was music from another planet, and I wanted to know more.

My sister was living in a squat in Kennington, so from the age of 15 I began to make many deep forays into London life, travelling down to spend two weeks wandering London on foot – visiting every single record and book shop and undertaking mini-pilgrimages to places of pop significance. I’d head off to Soho, Notting Hill, Brixton and Camden with a notepad so that I might jot down some observations: the sights, sounds, smells… drains, fried chicken and BO, mainly. I didn’t realise it at the time, but I was taking further tentative steps towards becoming a writer.

Somewhere along the way I heard early jungle, which circa 1993/1994 was essentially ragga music reborn in London: fast, furious, really hard to dance to and not made for white boys from the north-east who probably resembled a member of Supergrass. I think it’s important to get out your comfort zone now and again.

I could have chosen ‘Original Nuttah’ by UK Apache with Shy FX but I was utterly obsessed with ‘Champion DJ’ after my sister’s then-boyfriend played me it. Blackstar was Michael West, aka Rebel MC aka Congo Natty, who’d had a hit with ‘Street Tuff’ by his early band Double Trouble. In fact, he is credited with spawning the term jungle. But it also features a sample from The Revolutionaries’ ‘Kunta Kinte’, which was recently used to spellbinding effect in Steve McQueen’s ‘Lovers Rock.’

When this song kicks in at the fifty-second mark it makes me want to shoot guns into ceilings, and it represents a period when life was semi-feral, and music no longer had to be tribal or parochial. You could listen to everything. I tried to spread the gospel by taking this back to Luton and playing it to my indie-loving friends. I think they thought I was just trying to be eccentric or contrary, but my love was genuine.

Years later when jungle and garage had a baby and called it grime, I was on board with that too.

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