6 April 1963 – 17 February 2020
The composer pays tribute to a brilliant polymath with singular musical vision, who was also a warm and wise friend
I’ll start by saying that DJing, remixing and producing were just something that Andrew did. I always looked at him as a much bigger presence. Spending a day with Andrew with a spliff and a cup of tea was an educational experience. I used to leave those meetings with fire in my belly, raring to go. He couldn’t wait to tell you about the new record he had just heard, or the new film he had just watched, or the new book he had just read, because he wanted you to taste what he had just experienced. He wasn’t precious or pretentious. He wanted to share the love.
In 1990, I saw him play at a club in London. He was already this mythical, brilliant DJ. I remember getting up the courage to say: “Hi, my name’s David. I live in Belfast. Will you come and play at my club Sugar Sweet?” He said: “I’d absolutely love to come to Belfast. I’ve read so many books about it.” He arrived with his corkscrew curly hair, motorbike boots, leather trousers and Breton top. He looked amazing. Back then, a lot of DJs wouldn’t come to Belfast, and rightly so! I get it. But Andrew was fascinated by it. He liked to go to the weird, off-kilter, dangerous places. He loved outsiders.
