NORMAN JAY

There is perhaps no other DJ amongst the profiles on site who has been around for longer or commands more respect than Norman Jay, once dubbed ‘The Institution’ by The Face magazine. During his career, Jay’s adaptability and eclectic taste have been the secret of his success, taking in different musical styles and movements, from jazz-funk to rare groove, hip hop, roots reggae, disco and soulful house. He’s been welcomed everywhere over the years - big house nights like Miss Moneypenny’s, gay clubs, acid jazz clubs, eclectic clubs, soul sessions. He is, quite simply, the DJ’s DJ, a living history of club culture, a man who’s seen it all. He’s been a regular at the Southport Dance Music Weekender since its inception; he’s inspired mass adulation at his legendary Bass Clef night; he’s formed his own sound system - Good Times - with brother Joey Jay which, after twenty years, is still delighting the crowds at London’s Notting Hill Carnival. He’s full of memories and anecdotes - like the night he bumped into The Sex Pistols at, of all places, Ronnie Scott’s jazz club when they came to buy weed from one of his friends... or the legendary PAs given by divas like Jocelyn Brown and Chaka Khan at his High on Hope club... or playing at last year’s Cannes Film Festival - the first DJ ever accorded the honour. We caught up with him to uncover the roots of his action-packed career...

Born in London of West Indian parents, and brought up in a musical, gospel-oriented family, Jay nurtured DJing ambitions from an early age, playing his first gig at a 10th birthday party for one of his cousins, when he himself was only 8 years old! The records of some of black music’s 60s legends were already favourites - Aretha Franklin, James Brown and Sly Stone among them. In fact, by the late 70s, Norman had developed a keen ear for the output of classic labels like Motown, Stax and Atlantic, as well as following the disco sounds of Salsoul and his own particular niche - ‘The Sound of Philadelphia’ (typified by acts like The O’Jays, Archie Bell & The Drells and M.F.S.B.).

As far as disco goes, he had experienced the American scene first hand, visiting the American side of his family (one of whom was an accomplished Brooklyn DJ) in New York and later attending legendary clubs like the Paradise Garage. For many of his contemporary DJs, the Paradise Garage’s resident DJ Larry Levan remains shrouded in an impenetrable mystique, but for Norman, Levan was just one of the many respected friends he’d met on his travels. ‘I didn’t go to the Paradise Garage till quite late - ‘85,‘86 - which was probably when it was peaking, so I was very fortunate to go then. I had all the records Larry had, but I’d never heard them played that way on a system. It influenced the way I programmed records - how you play them as opposed to what you play.’ And Levan wasn’t the only club hero that Norman could count among his friends: Timmy Regisford, Tee Scott, David Morales, Tony Humphries, Louie Vega - all were known by Norman years before they made a name for themselves in his native UK. At home, Norman had already started the Good Times sound system with brother Joey, but the New York experience inspired him to pursue his DJing ambitions with renewed vigour, principally through his Garage-style club High On Hope.

When getting to grips with the Norman Jay story, it’s also worth remembering that his other great lifelong love in addition to music was Tottenham Hotspurs football club. To this day, you’d be hard pushed to find one of his Sunday night radio shows where some reference isn’t made to George Graham’s men. And that fanaticism went hand-in-hand with Jay’s blossoming DJ career, for with the long days at away games came long nights checking out different local clubs in whichever city he happened to find himself. It’s also worth remembering that the UK club scene in the early 80s was not without its negative aspects. Take the night of Norman’s 21st birthday for instance when he was turned away from a club because all of his party were black. All these experiences informed his decision to go it alone and create his own unique space, and, in a way, his High On Hope night in the late 80s was an answer to what had been lacking in the UK club experience, ethically and musically. As he puts it: ‘High on Hope’s still the closest we’ve come to the original New York vibe. It was mainly black and mainly gay - just like the Garage - and you could play four-to-the-floor records and emotional soul records and long drawn-out instrumental dubs...’

But well before High On Hope, Norman had also hatched a plan with fellow DJ Gordon Mac to take the music he loved to an even wider audience via the world of pirate radio. The result was Kiss (na