If John Peel to you means Fall B-sides and the occasional spin of ‘Teenage Kicks’ then think again. You’re just as likely to hear Peelie play Luke Slater, Richie Hawtin or Black Dog on a Saturday afternoon as you are Sebadoh, Polvo or the latest football score from Anfield. Not only that, but he never does a bad mix and always tells you what the records are called. Yes, you guessed it, John Peel is the world’s greatest jock. Paul Benney booked himself in for a session…

Do you always look forward to turning up at the studio or do you ever feel like calling in sick?

“Oh no, even when I had kidney stones, which was very painful indeed, I would have liked to have done my show from my hospital bed. I always feel like someone’s using my toothbrush when someone has to fill in for me.”

Why do you think that Radio One didn’t find it necessary to replace you when all the other DJs your age got the sack?

“Good question. Apparently Andy Kershaw’s show and my show are what’s called pro-active shows as opposed to re-active shows, so they decided to keep them.”

Did you know that Andrew Weatherall recently said that your show was a constant source of inspiration?

“I met him last year actually and he came up to me and said something similar which I thought was really sweet because it’s really difficult to say that and I was really touched that he did.”

Is that the sort of thing that spurs you on?

“Well, it is really. Not just because he’s a famous person – anybody who says stuff like that. You’d have to be a bit of a barbarian not to be spurred on by stuff like that really.”

Have you heard their (The Sabres Of Paradise) latest single?

“Yes, in fact I can see it from here. I’ve only heard it through the once, but I’ve got at least one track down to play.”

Any recent techno sessions that you’ve particularly enjoyed?

“To be honest we’ve had amazingly few bad ones. Frankly I’m never quite sure where the borderline with this stuff is because I don’t go to the kind of places where they rigidly stick to one style – well I don’t go anywhere in fact apart from the pub in the next village. I’m not part of a culture that has those rigid definitions. If I hear it and like it I just stick it on. I don’t worry about whether it’s this or whether it’s that. The main problem as you know is that there’s just so much of it so that for every record I play and for every session I book there are two or three that I’d like to and it’s tremendously frustrating.”

Do you still get the same buzz out of listening to the week’s new releases?

“Oh, definitely yeah. I was up all last night waiting for my son’s A-level results – so I was up listening to records until four o’clock this morning. Records always sound good – well the good ones do anyway. There’s still too many to cram into five-and-a-half hours of radio.”

Did you think Woodstock 2 was a good idea?

“I thought it was a pile of crap really. I think the original one was something that I didn’t want anything to do with. I don’t think it was the festival of peace or love and joy and wonder and all that kind of stuff. For a lot of people, it was a lot of aggro – crappy food, nowhere to go to the lavvy – all the things that happen at festivals that you could well do without. To recreate the thing 60 miles from the original site or however far it was – it would be like Glastonbury, I dunno what’s 60  miles from Glastonbury, Swindon or something. The other thing of course is that Radio One wouldn’t have anything to do with the original and then it takes up an entire day and night of programming to broadcast the rather feeble re-creation. It’s the sort of irony that happens all too frequently. I can remember when I first started at Radio One everyone saying: ‘You shouldn’t be playing all this stuff by Pink Floyd’ and then of course a few years’ later it’s become the icon of respectability. I’m sure they’ll probably have something like the Pink Floyd story on soon or if they haven’t they’re thinking about it.”

Do you understand all the fuss that the press make about a band like Oasis?

“Up to a point I do. I think in the long run it’s bad for a band because if they were any good there is so much pressure put on them so early in their career. It’s because the music weeklies are forced into a kind of tabloid position now since Record Mirror and Sounds disappeared overnight and the magazines came in and they’re having to compete with those, so they have to have a new sensation all of the time so they both really have a very narrow focus these days. I still read them both – I must admit I get a lot of mail from people – well, not a lot of mail, but enough mail from a lot of people in Europe who used to really rely on NME and Melody Maker to tell them what’s going on and they now rely on them to tell them what’s being hyped. Some of these bands may have the germ of a good idea but I think in a lot of cases they’re not really given the opportunity to develop it before they’ve been used up and thrown away.”

Do you ever force your children to sit down and listen to certain records?

“No, no, perhaps I should force them. I try not to compel them to do anything. I suggest stuff and if they ignore my suggestion I see it as being their loss.”

Have you got any psychotic fans that write to you every week?

“There are people who have been writing to me for years and it always sounds awful – the sort of thing you’d write in a press release, but they are genuinely fans.  A lot of them are people who come and stay with us and do stuff like that. It’s easier with the people that listen to the European programmes because they haven’t really been sold the idea of DJs as celebrities. I try to have nothing to do with that aspect but the mere fact that you are interviewing me now is an indicator that it does exist and that I go along with it to a certain degree but only because you give me the opportunity to say things that I want to say and also because you sound like a nice bloke. I don’t like to tell people to piss off because I want to watch TV. What I like about it is that it is kinda personal and interwoven into my life in such a way that it’s not something that I put on and take off. It’s a constant in my life so that the people who are into it as much as I am – people of all sorts of ages end up becoming family friends. There’s a fella called George from Swindon who used to write to me for years and never put his address because he knew I always felt guilty about not being able to answer all of the letters and then one day when I was on a bike ride raising money for the Heart Foundation he cycled up and said I’m George from Swindon. He now comes and stays with us two or three times a year – usually when Swindon are playing in East Anglia. So, I don’t really think people are fans and I know this all sounds awfully crap but all of us are involved in the programme –  listeners, me – it’s just that I’m the one that plays the records. It’s like you’ve got a whole bunch of people in the room and you say let’s listen to some new records and I’m the one that’s putting them on – ‘Oh, you did it again this week, John’ – that’s the way I feel about it when I sit down on a Friday night or a Saturday afternoon for the programme.”

Do you think your heroes always let you down?

“Not really. Kenny Dalglish turned out nicer than I thought he was going to be when I met him. I don’t really know how many of the people that I regard as heroes – I’ve met Mark E. Smith a couple of times and he seemed alright, although I’m sure he’s a bugger to work for, but there’s nothing that says to do good work you’ve got to be nice. If you’re sort of chilling out with the stars you sort of lose your perspective and I think if you’re constantly referring to all your famous friends it also alienates the people that listen to your programme because they think you’re being flash. If you look through my address book there’s hardly a single familiar number. I’ve got an old phone number for Kenny Dalglish because I like having it in there, but apart from that… David Gedge, I’ve got his phone number, that’s really about it.”

Any A&R tips for Feargal Sharkey?

“I saw him at Glastonbury with M-People, and I was glad to see him and glad to hear him, I’d love him to get himself sorted out because I like him, but other people say he can be difficult.”

If ‘Teenage Kicks’ is your favourite record of all time – what is your second favourite?

“God, tens of thousands of second places. My favourite this year is a track by LSG – ‘Hearts’ – on Superstition Records. Every time I play it I get stacks of people phoning up asking what the hell was that.”

You’ve said before that a lot of people seem to like the records that they were into when they were 16 for the rest of their life. What records were you listening to when you were 16?

“I was 16 in 1955, so, obviously it was the start of rock’n’roll. I was into Fats Domino and Little Richard and Elvis… Lonnie Donegan. I still occasionally listen to them, but I sometimes feel that I was born without the bits that people have that are full of nostalgia. I mean I can be as nostalgic as the next person but very seldom listen to old records. Every once in a while I put on Roy Orbison’s Greatest Hits, but that’s only  because I want to sing-along.”

Is there a record that is still guaranteed to make you dance?

“I’ve never been much of a dancing man to my wife’s considerable regret as she’s a very enthusiastic dancer. It’s all to do with being incredibly self-conscious as a child – neurotic in fact.”  

Do you ever get asked to DJ at friends’ weddings or birthday parties?

“No, not really. Probably because they’d want loads of Phil Collins rather than obscure records out of Frankfurt or Fall B-sides.”

What makes you laugh?

“Situations really. I like really funny things that aren’t funny – things that aren’t jokes. I never usually find jokes funny, but I rather like people who can do situations. I saw John Shuttleworth on TV last week and I like that fact that a lot of people in the audience and a lot of people in our house didn’t really know whether it was funny. That’s why I used to like Ted Chippington as well. It tends to be conversations you hear in the pub.”

What makes you cry?

“Almost everything unfortunately. I cry incredibly easily which I’m sure is a sign of a disordered personality, but anything from real crap like ‘Little House on the Prairie’ to news film of Rwanda, so I’m a very unreliable guy. Obviously one thing is pure saccharine sentiment and the other kind is a real horror and my tear ducts unfortunately don’t make the distinction between the two.”

Is there anything that you haven’t done that you wish you had?

“Well, obviously I would have liked to play for Liverpool. I would like to have been a racing driver at one stage of my life. I would have liked to have played the electric guitar staggeringly well, the piano as well – when someone says at a party: ‘Does anyone play the piano?’ I’d like to be able to say: ‘Well, I play a bit’, and then rattle out something stupendous. By and large, all of the things that I’ve wanted to do I’ve sort of done. I know it sounds smug. I’m a great believer in setting your sights low so that it’s perfectly possible to achieve what you want. If you would have asked me that when I was 12, I would have said I wanted to live in a cottage in the country, having a job on the radio playing records, having an astonishing wife and by and large some pretty amusing children and loads of dogs and cats and a huge record collection and that’s what I’ve got.”

How would you like to be remembered?

“I do actually have the answer to this one because it is something that I was thinking about the other day. Somebody from the Evening Standard phoned me up and said I’m sorry to have to ask you, but is it true that you’re dying? Which I must admit rather stopped me in my tracks. Y’know, do they know something that I don’t? I’d like to be able to say I never shafted anyone.”

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