Superstar DJ Gilles Peterson on how he went from pirate radio to the BBC
The French-born British DJ and record label owner stopped operating London pirate radio station because it was ‘one step away from becoming serious crime’.
Life and soul I was born in Normandy, France, in 1964 to a French mum and a Swiss dad. We moved to England when I was three and I went to the Lycée (Lycée Française Charles de Gaulle) in South Kensington. After passing my 11-plus exam, I got into an English school. English and French kids were different in terms of identity and how important music was. French kids are free to wear what they want at school, whereas the English had to wear uniforms, so when they went home they became a punk or a soul boy or a mod.
I became one of only three soul boys in my school – I was into jazz-funk and soul music. I was into Stevie Wonder and Marvin Gaye when I was 13. I would tune into Radio Invicta, a pirate radio station that used to broadcast on Sunday afternoons. I’d get the best signal in the bathroom; I would sit in the bath with an aerial trying to tune into the show and record it onto cassettes to swap with people. By the age of 15, I was going to weekenders and all-dayers.
Hitting the decks Before I knew it, I’d got some turntables. My mum and dad came back from an anniversary weekend away and what used to be an electric railway set in the garden shed had become a DJ station. They were really worried. I’d been quite sporty until then, playing rugby for the county, but when music arrived sport and education went.
I worked in a fruit and vegetable shop, but realised there was a way of making money from the decks. My first DJ job was an under-14s disco at a church hall in south London. I played Time, by Light of the World, multiple times because I loved it so much. I started DJing at weddings, bar mitzvahs, gay clubs – whatever people would offer me. By the time I was 18, I was DJing three or four times a week at pubs and wine bars. These gigs made me appreciate all the aspects of the job before I got to the glamorous bit.
To get better known, I’d organise coach trips and say to clubs, “If you book me, I’ll bring 100 people.” Soul clubs were full of girls and guys from all backgrounds who dressed up. It was more exciting than a bunch of boys drinking beer and listening to Def Leppard. We wore our hair in a wedge, leather trousers and Italian shoes, or casual clothes like tracksuit tops. If you saw a bunch of punks while dressed like that, you’d get beaten up. But that was your army and you believed in your music.