So after a few stops and starts with writing here, I finally pulled my trousers on and decided to actually do something about it. So here we go.
The story begins on a chilly night, way back in a year I have forgotten the name of, deep in the heart of Bristol. I had come down to visit my older brother and have a bit of a knees up as Mr Scruff was playing in the O2 Academy, and after drinking many cans of luke-warm cider (my brother was in 2nd year at this point) we stumbled out into the night towards the o2 Academy to get our groove on, as they say. Although, on a sidenote, tragedy did strike as I had bought a ticket and slipped it into my back pocket, and on the walk down to the venue the bastard slipped out of my pocket so I had to get a new one.
But anyway, Mr Scruff. He played, as expected, a dazzling set. I had only been told earlier that night about his ‘wee bag’ so he doesn’t ever have to leave the decks, as well as how he only drinks tea during his sets, which certainly added to the wonder I experienced during the show. Those who have been to a Mr Scruff set will all agree upon his brilliance. He has been known to play music varying from disco, soul, funk, jazz and his own special blend of all of these which is exemplified in his brilliant album ‘Ninja Tuna’. It was also probably the most bass-y show I had been to up to that point – I remember looking over at a glass of water on a table next to me and watch it judder across with each bass note.
Also in his shows he has a projector screen featuring all of his own hand-drawn animations which usually consist of fish or potato-like humans, but each one being customised for the town he is in – so for instance there were on-screen shout-outs to Clifton and St Pauls. It certainly adds a twist to the standard DJ set, and it makes it seem much more intimate.
After the show, he came down to the front of the rails and shook hands with folk, chatted and signed things for people, along with the mandatory poses for photographs etc, etc, etc. I decided to wander over, in quite a haze of cider and get him to sign me something.
At the last minute, however, I changed my mind. I handed him the leaflet and said ‘Can you draw me a picture?’. Mr Scruff nodded in his approval, and the bald, toothless man next to me looked at me and exclaimed ‘Fuckin’ nice one mate. Any cunt can get a scribble of a name’ and staggered off.
I can’t really remember much of that night after that point, but I woke up with this in my pocket:
It has been creased and stained throughout the years, but that was the first drawing an artist did for me, and throughout the more recent years, I decided to continue this ‘project’ of sorts. I have now decided to post some of them up, hopefully over the next few days. I’m not going to say who else has done pictures because then it will be exciting. So get excite!