Sinister: Bad sad news

[Sam Walton]

"A great man is dead. The news shocked. So young - well, 65 is not quite 
young even now: but it needn't be a dying age in the millennial developed 
world."

These, dear Sinister, were the words (albeit with the age changed) of the 
Pinefox, 22 months ago, when writing his wonderful obituary of Joe Strummer. 
They still ring true today, but with a different man.

To a few people John Peel wasn't necessarily a favourite DJ, largely due to 
his frequent and uncompromising penchant for submitting them to a record 
that would never find a place in anybody's ears, let alone mine. However I 
returned to him more than I ever did to anybody else. Fads and personalities 
came and went, Peel remained – he was a cornerstone of my musical education. 
And for all those 20-second Japanese noise-core bursts of feedback or 
impenetrable glitchtro workouts ("rather good, I think you'll agree" was 
normally the growly description, and one to which I often came to concur) 
there was a guarantee of stone cold brilliance at a far more frequent 
interval than during any other programme you'll ever hear.

My overwhelming feeling tonight is one of guilt and regret for all those 
times I never listened.

The clichés were of Peel’s unmistakable voice as the nation’s favourite old 
sweater or much-loved uncle, as a universal source of fondness shared by 
all. I can do a mean Peel impression, and indeed the vocal delivery by 
Messrs Radcliffe, Lamacq and the like owes much to the great man, who seemed 
to be the first to um and ah whilst being equally equipped with a killer 
turn of phrase.

But the fact remained that while every competitor's failings eventually 
irritated, Peel's foibles became the very things I adored about his 
programme, and the trademark that kept me tuning in. He enticed listeners to 
his endure his butchered pronunciation of a German techno groups, or to 
abide one more seven inch played at 33rpm – “John would’ve liked a minute’s 
silence but he'd probably have played it at the wrong speed” somebody 
suggested on the Radio 1 tribute tonight.

He was scratchy and unpolished – a fact that he frequently and genuinely 
lamented, but which made him irreplaceable to me. When he spoke into a 
microphone, he was speaking to me, individually, with all the nervous 
inflection that inevitably comes with telling somebody about a newfound 
love, and I felt almost honour-bound to embrace his choices. He was not a 
musician, but reminiscing over the greats of 20th century music - yes that 
includes Lennon, Presley, Rotten et al – I can’t name anyone who has altered 
my musical taste more, directly or not. He was an innovator and an explorer, 
and his death leaves me wondering what uncharted waters he has left 
permanently unmapped. In today’s radio schedules there is simply no space 
for a programme as frankly random as The John Peel Wing Ding, and without 
him there will be nobody to enforce its existence.

John Peel was not my favourite DJ, but there is no other of whom I am 
fonder. Stronger, deeper fans will pay more attentive tributes, but I’m 
afraid I listened to Mark & Lard more religiously, or the Evening Session, 
or latterly the Breezeblock and Worldwide. Strip that all away though, and 
Peel was always there and always reliable; he was the best and most 
dependable DJ I will ever hear, and for that I am truly thankful.






   ================================
     "He's strictly a pain in the ass, but
      he certainly has a good vocabulary"
               - Holden Caulfield


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